My mom taught me something about relationships when I was growing up. She told me to never be the one to love the other person more. I always thought that was odd. That was until I saw how my mom loved my dad more and let him leave bruises on her skin. That was until I found my best friend drunk, bleeding on her bathroom floor, because the boy she loved more broke her heart and left. That’s why when I start to fall I catch myself. I don’t want to be the one to love more because I’ve seen what that does to people. Oh, but god do I love you more.
It’s funny how artistic we become when our hearts are broken.
I’m used to it
And here we can see the Blogger in her natural habitat.
The blogger is a shy, docile creature…
… that prefers the darkness…
… and tends to be wary of the outside world.
The Blogger rarely sleeps, and when it does, it does so in seemingly random places.
We have attempted to understand the dietary habits of the Blogger…
… but to no avail.
I am so glad this is back