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I have had xanga for over three and a half years. Closer to four. That's pretty fucking intense. Me and this shitty little blog have been through quite a lot together. In fact, I really think I would like to print everything out and save it. After all, it was my journal for a long time. Just not lately. Realistically, I don't think that will change.

As to be expected, old flames crash and burn. For the same reason they always do. If it's one thing I have learned about teenage boys and love, it's this--- once a controlling freak, always a controlling freak. And once a lazy, unmotivated, judgmental commitment phobe, always.... well, you know. A leopard doesn't change its damn spots. At least certainly not for the same girl.

To be fair, the same goes for me. I am not about to say I am without faults, because certainly I am. As far as some people are concerned. In the end, I am who I am; that happens to be a really vulgar, family-oriented, angry, tattoo-loving asshole. But here's the thing-- go find someone who wants to be ruled, because you will run her. Go find someone who expects nothing, because that's what you have to offer. And somehow, through sheer luck or fate or who the fuck knows, I managed to find someone who really enjoys all of the things I have spent a good six years repressing. Someone who laughs at my filthy personality, finds my aggression to be a nice quirk, thinks my tattoos are both an expression of my personality and attractive, and loves my family because they have such a similar one.

Once again, to be fair (and honest), I had no intentions of ending up in another relationship. In fact, that was seriously the absolute LAST thing I wanted to do. From the time I was fourteen years old, I have never spent longer than perhaps two months single. As an adult, it was time to have that freedom. I suppose you could say that I did have it, but like my feelings on most things, go big or go home. And that's what I did. In about two weeks, I crammed a ridiculous amount of debauchery into my life. With the help of two very supportive cousins and a kick ass sister, I had a very interesting experience... to say the least.

After that though, I guess I did sort of want to do the whole "discovering myself" thing that supposedly can only be done while alone. As it turns out, the people who say that have only been in relationships which are not supportive. Or in a relationship with someone so very different from themselves that true self discovery becomes impossible out of fear of destroying said relationship.

I have spent a long, long time doing nothing but wearing myself out trying to make people happy. Compromising. Bending. I don't have to do that anymore. And for the first time in my life, I am with someone whose main goal is to make ME happy. I want to do well for myself because I know he will be successful. I want to soak up as much knowledge and information as possible to keep learning and growing together. I want to share books that we find interesting. Share families, the way our sisters have become so important to each other. This is where I am supposed to be. I am motivated, I am confident, I am strong, and happy. I am in love.

I have not touched my xanga in ages. Damn, yo. Maybe I will do a genuine update soon.

.....maybe not?