can't... stop... blogging
Stephen and I were sparring in the kitchen last night. I don't know why. I guess we were just feeling feisty and martial-arty or something. I don't even remember how it started. Roughhousing feels good sometimes. I had to channel all my tae-kwon-do from when I was eight (there was still some left in me! I remember how to punch and block and kinda kick, but it's hard to go up against a guy with more close combat experience than me.) I slammed my hand on the edge of the counter and busted a blood vessel. It's all swollen and brown-looking now. I also got a fist to the top of the foot. I feel bad, though, because I caught him in the mouth, which I don't even remember doing, but I think it was when I was going for his shoulder or when I was blocking a jab to the abdomen. His mouth bled a little and he spit blood into the sink. He said he was fine, but today he had a bruise on his lip. I feel like an ass for that. He's in a wedding this weekend... oops! Sorry, BFF. Didn't mean to leave a mark.
I miss him so much tonight.
He calls me things like "Sweetie" and "Love" and "Killer." I really like it.
I miss him so much tonight.
He calls me things like "Sweetie" and "Love" and "Killer." I really like it.