Week 3 has been mad. And it's ONLY Week 3. I'm just glad it's over. I hate my odd weeks.



18 months spoke alot about you and me. It told us that love was a kind yet cruel force, and it whispered the little secrets that belonged solely to us. It bore the scars of tiffs, of jealousy, of lonely nights, of long weekends, and of the tears shed in the name of love. As always, I could never fully put into words the love you shower upon me, and I just hope love is the best I can give to you.


Happy 18 months, love. And trounce that viral fever with all you can muster, because I'll need you in my life, in every moment of you and me.