Warm and Breezy:

10 days.  That’s it.  And then I’m living with Ryan.  I’ve never lived with anyone but family before.  And I know it’s not going to be butterflies and blanket forts all the time.  I understand.  It’s going to be raised voices and small grudges, soft hurt and loud rage.  I know.  But in the moments that matter, the rough ones will be forgotten.  Harsh words and sweet nothings balanced atop a thin thread of sanity bonded and braided with love.  Unbreakable.  Love.
It’s always there.  When I wake up, and roll out of bed, when I put on make up and even as I write,  he’s on my mind.
We’ve been fighting all week.  Little bickering nagging fights.  Not because we mean to, but because we’re both ready to stop talking about when that day comes,  we’re tired of waiting.  We’re ready to live with each other, and the slow passing of time is getting to us.  No more waking up alone, at the nanny house.  I’m so sick of it.  I’m sick of being cold of being lonely.  Of not being able to tell Ryan everything because after work, we’re too tired to say it over the phone.  I hate phone conversations because I can’t touch his hand or brush my fingers through his hair.  I can’t kiss his neck, or smell him.  Not for ten more days.  It’s the worst kind of tease.
I own my heart,  my choices and my decisions.  But more and more, it feels like it’s not about me.  It’s us.  We’re in charge of our finances, our fun, our bedtime.  We’re sharing an apartment with our stuff blended.  I gave him my heart long ago.  And he has it in his.  Part of it is always mine, my likes, my dreams but now we share even those too.  Because they affect everything in our future.
And I long for the day when summer comes, so blood can rush into my fingertips and when I touch him, he gets goosebumps from the feeling not the temperature.  When we’ve lived together a while and it’s warm and breezy, when we’re gotten through some tough shit and know we can do it better next time.  When my hair is longer and I can wear dresses.  When we wake up together and the thread we tied from my heart to his is still as strong as ever and we can laugh at tiny fights, make love after big fights, and get through each day, together.  Not through the phone.  And in ten days, we’ll be getting closer to that.  More so than ever.

I'm 26. Lost and in transition. I don't have the answers, just thoughts.