My Normal Life

Love Is In The Air

Oh hurrah! Another is moving so quickly down that road I am greatly beginning to loath, while I just stand and stare at. The road of love and happiness is what I believe it to be. I know that we were all put on this earth for one other person, at least that’s how I feel, but it may take us more than one sip before we find the good whiskey. These days, that’s all I feel the need for. I feel that I have been obsessing too much over relationships. I obsess only because I make it seem like my days are growing shorter. I know I am still a young gal and can accomplish so much. But hearing about one of my last people about ready to not live alone, but with the one that they love, I could feel my insides beginning to tear themselves apart. Maybe I had helped them find their other half, the half that they had turned three pages for and found. Well, wah-hoo, good for you! It’s only taken me three dating sites, twenty singles meet ups, and three speed dating’s and I still sit here, looking through my shrinking Facebook, wondering how long it will be before I am the last one. That’s a little more than three measly pages.
Why is love always in the air? There must be some way to get rid of it. Lysol maybe? This atom bomb I’m learning about, perhaps? I don’t mind “it”, that one time of year, since all that chocolate is involved. Of course, that is always just another time I begin to shallow away at hating my empty heart. There really are only two good days in a year, anyway: the 4th of July; this gives you an excuse to drink. And the 22nd of February, because, well, we must never forget our first president. What a great man he was!
Love should also not be in our Motorcitiy since these love bugs are more prone to the fresh, non-gasoline drenched air. Oh well, if they ever did make it through the snow, rain, or heat they would probably just smash themselves on a person’s windshield while flying from heart to heart.
My bed is still all mine, though. I get to lay wherever, however I want. Whereas all of you have to squeeze around those other halves of yours. The only benefit to them is those arms you get to feel, wrapped around you, as you drift away. Their scent you smell, as you breathe in their love. The only arms I have are mine and this breathe never smells as good as love is. Sometimes, I’m not even sure what that smell is, but you wouldn’t want to wake up to that.

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