Straight from the source- My journal.

Private concerts that I didn't ask for. Trains in the distance. And my love is fully absorbed in himself and his music. I listen, whole-heartedly, wishing I could write. So, now again, of course I'm here. Practicing writing, dreaming of days when I'll have a pile of these. Beautiful photo albums. Heartwrenching diaries. Brutally honest journals. Dull, boring, exciting, fantastic. I don't care. I love. Love-existence. Existing fully, perhaps on itself. Times like these I know I can breathe and be full. Artistic, gorgeous. Wrapped in our sheets and love. Regardless of what other people say. They've really got no idea. (He shifts his music, I shift my body, both to be more comfortable and content) It's too bad that no one can see how it is. With me and him. There are sometimes when I don't see it either. But when I look at him and feel my smile, its no ownder I'm still madly in love. I say still, because this isn't a normal thing for me. I'm so consistent in my changing. So consistent that normally nothing lasts long. I've grown to love life that way but I find myself "settling" comfortably, happilly. Because I can see myself in ten years, still madly in love with him. I don't see it any other way. And I'm glad. I can do this. I believe in myself, in this love, in him. And I know he believes too. Not to say I've lost faith in change. Because I haven't for sure. I still believe it can happen and that it will always happen. But perhaps, not in the way that I love him. Because I believe in consistence with him. Patterns, schedules, that althought they may change my partner remains. Lovingly, happily. And no matter how much I dwell on the fact that no one else can understand, I still very strongly believe in it. And for once its good to believe in something. Especially something like this in all its beauty and all its terror.