How does one even begin to write about possibly the best thing that happened to her "lovelife"? For the first time, words elude me. And those who know me, know that I'm a girl of many words. And what can I say that hasn't already been written? Only now I understand what those great writers really mean.
For the first time since I can remember, I am happy with the one I'm with. And for the first time, I really mean that.
I read somewhere that some potters make a break in the line of the design of their pottery... Sort of like a symbol that it's a never-ending cycle. The earth, the wind, the fire--everything that goes into making it a beautiful thing. And maybe it remains that way, or maybe you break it along the way... But the cycle goes on and the story continues... In that same manner, I will end this entry with a ;