I'm happy and alive...most days. I love many things and few people. My fingers itch when I'm away from my camera too long and I can't even think about starting my day until my alarm clock starts singing to me. I'm hardly a professional, especially at blogging. M-P is my outlet, take it at face value.
Mango-Passion
I feel like calling my mom and telling her how happy I’ll be to stay here for the rest of my life. I feel like I probably proved that by buying this house but I worry that everyone can see through my facade. I mean, they all know how much I always wanted to move away and live my dreams. I want to be able to convince her that I’m happy here. I don’t want her to die not knowing how much I love her and how willing I am to give up everything to make her life whatever she wants it to be now. I don’t like thinking about my dad. I don’t like how much it hurts and I don’t like knowing that he died without knowing how happy I was. I think too much of my life was wasted on hopeless teen angst.
