Where there is love there is life.

5:18 am

I messed up.

Real bad.

fuck.

ever. the smallest things can take me to the worst places. why dont you get that? do you not remember things like that? do you not care? i worry about things, even if some part of my brain knows it will work out. do not realize that? if only you knew me.

i cried for you. alot. i shed my tears on the teddy bear that you gave me. the usually things i think about to get me to that point were no where in my mind. it wasn’t about missing you. it wasn’t about needing you. it wasn’t about being scared and waiting for you. it was purely about you. about how you must feel. all alone. scared. nervous. stressed. and i can’t even imagine what else. these last eleven days, you’ve probably been under more stress than ever i have put you through. i have no idea how you feel. i have no idea how you’re doing. and ontop of all the things that your going through, i know youre worried about me. i know your super worried about me. everyone tells me that you literally won’t be able to find the time to worry things, but that’s never been an obstacle you couldn’t get over. i can’t wait for this to be over. almost 2 weeks down. this will be night 12 by myself. well, now i have a little buddy to sleep with me. i love him so much. 

I want to get laid. I wish my husband was here. I miss him terribly. He is in basic military training working his butt off (literally) to provide for his family. And I absolutely appreciate and support him 100 percent. But it’s hard to let go when I spent every single second with him. I miss his smile. His laugh. His warm body (well he is my personal heating pad). His humor. His temper. His commentary. His irritability. His passion. His hair. His lips. His eyes. His chest. His back. His dick…

Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband, he’s charming, he’s witty, and he makes me smile when I feel like I’m about to just give up. We’ve been through more than I would have imagined possible in the last 3 years, but I have always depended on him, and he has depended on me. He was my best friend, then my lover, and now my husband. He is my rock, and he is the man I have been dreaming of to start the rest of my life with. 

But right now, I hit that stage of pregnancy where I want to wrap my legs around his waist and ride until the sun comes up (my pregnancy bumb is a little too big so i can’t really do that, but that’s what i want!) But I would settle for just pushing him down on the ground and riding him like there is no tomorrow. seeing my long nails up against his tan skin, slightly digging in. 

I can not wait until my husband comes home.

My brother-in-law (he is 8 years old)asked me when I was putting the playpen together.

I told him when he moved out of the room because there’s no space for it.

He asked me how long does the baby have to be at the hospital.

I told him that she will come home the next day, unless there’s something wrong with her.

Then he said, and I quote “I hope there’s something really wrong with her because I don’t want to move my stuff.” 

I know he’s 8, but I wanted to kill him.

i don’t feel like writing right now. I honestly don’t know what I feel like doing. Actually I do. i want to run outside. I just want to run away from here. from everywhere. i want this to be over with. its only been the majority of a week. not even a whole week. i’m starting to develop the sadness. I want this to be over with. i don’t know how to handle this. Every other minute I’m deciding to live somewhere else. To suck it up and go back with my parents. To give in to this depression and just stay here and see where it leaves me. To jump to Florida as soon as i can and forget about our life here. all i can think about is sadness. i need to go home. 

she asked me if i ate. and i said yes. 

she asked me if i ate the leg. and i said no.

she asked me why not.. and i told her that i don’t eat the leg if i don’t have too.

then she said andrew always eats the leg, then she started crying.

it was a sad moment. and all i could do is feel sorry for her.

and for me. i shouldn’t have let him go. i need my husband

if i should type things or write them down.

my email. why do i expect a text?