Marriage does kinda rhyme with cabbage....

Isn't it odd how at right this very moment, my future husband is somewhere... probably sleeping. He better bloody be sleeping if he has work in the morning. But like right at this second, he's doing something. It's weird how people sort of live in their own tiny sphere of existence and then one day, their sphere kinda merges with another person's sphere and then they have babies and all their babies live in their own tiny spheres...

I don't know if I'd be able to marry a guy if he didn't respect my writing and if he wasn't okay with the fact that my brain is kinda... spacey and that I am pretty much dabbling in my imaginations for a rather large part of the day...

It's too precious to me to have someone that important to me not be bothered with it.