I appreciate cuddling and relaxing all day wit my man. It’s the best thing.
May sound strange but I’m always afraid that I’ll forget the memories, good and bad. The bad ones because I don’t want to relive them and the good ones because I need something to hold on to when my day turns shitty. I’m notorious for having dozens of random handwritten notes to myself in my purse at any given time. Most of them I can’t even decipher what I was thinking at the moment. It’s just a comfort knowing that when I’m least expecting it, I’ll find a past memory scribbled on crumpled paper that will evoke some sort of emotion.