(Morning Of) Nineteen Rugsėjis of Twenty Eleven

I'm sitting there, holding him in my arms and pondering how he would take off my garter. For some reason, I can picture him pulling it off with his teeth and smiling up and me while I blushed. It's weird because the next instant, he was asking me what it would be like if we actually got married.

I stood, for a split second, completely shocked.

Whether it was Fate, God, or similar personalities, we were both thinking about that commitment. We both wanted the reality of never missing each other for weeks and waking up every morning to smile at them. We wanted to furnish a house and keep kittens and everything involved.

Of course, this is all too serious for someone at my age to be thinking about. But my half birthday is only a few months away, and before we know it, I'll be the age I've been dreaming of. (Only seven months and eleven days until my next birthday. And only 11 days until his.)

I swear it's society. Convincing me that I want to be married and fall in love. But then, it's society that tells me that I shouldn't rush it and that I should take my time and make sure things are alright. But still, I've got this white dresses floating in my head, the priest and the 'I do's,' the beautiful white dress, the cake, and everything...

We even talked about going to Lithuania for our honeymoon. He considered it.If I could die of love, I think I might.

And now, I introduce the way I'm feeling, in pictures:
















'Tip toes and her heels hit the ground,
soft skin touches the church floor
with teeth bared,
he takes and tosses,
another eager from the pack snatches.
She tosses herself and let's go of the life she once knew,
A life they both lived for themselves.'