#rin's antics

[rinematic]

I miss you

Ok well you know what to do then

[rinematic]

Hey I’m going to be super real with you. I would fuck you.

Me too- on a good day.

[rinematic]

that’s right motha fuckas it’s time for a playlist redux and yes! yes My Blood IS in fact going to be on there, yes it will be the only song, 60 times,

[rinematic]

A meme (and also a different post) made me think of my own relationship

When we met I just really wanted to get drunk. It was day 3 of the Trauma Aftermath and I had no fucks left to give and there he was. In the passenger seat.

The night drew on and so did we. I stopped drinking because I knew I needed to be sober or I could lose what was so suddenly right in front of me

And we moved pretty quickly that first week. I know. We knew. But we fell into place into each other like we'd known each other forever like we'd done this before

And I hated the jokes about how the next month we'd be married

We knew how it looked on the outside looking in and yes it scared us and yes we worried that maybe everyone was right but they weren't. They weren't us and weren't in our places

Almost a year and a half later and here we are. I wait for him to come home to us, to me and our dog and our cat I wait for waking up with him next to me

Blissful. Feeling Right.

I feel so very different and think so very different. But I'm older now, too. Of course. I am a different person. This is a different time. And those doubts and fears become so easily squashable.

This will not be ruined. Not this time.

[rinematic]

I sing our dog to sleep sometimes (or back to sleep in some cases) so her dad has me sing to comfort him or to sing him to sleep

Which is...nice? But makes me feel self conscious bc i know (and he's acknowledged) my singing needs work so like...y tho

[rinematic]

incredibly good sex + feeling very in love & loved.

[rinematic]

things keep happening to Dr. Spencer Elliot Reed and I sure fuckin wish they wouldn't

[rinematic]

did i mention i used to have panic attacks if i stopped writing? i literally believed wholeheartedly i was supposed to write for the rest of my life that it’d make me who i wanted to be that it was what i was meant to do i haven’t written a poem in months. like more than half a year probably. and i don’t care. part of me is like “did i lose the thing i loved like i thought i would? were all of those panic attacks for good reason?” because every single one carried the thought “this is the end this is it i will never write again” and i know it’s probably not true but i was never a good writer anyway i mean comparatively i have 10 books laying waste somewhere and some i will never see or read ever again and i don’t care yikes.