messy.

Love is a funny thing. You expect it to be easy, a world of roses, laughs, happiness & perfect moments, you find only in the movies and novels. You expect him to always say the right thing and always know how you feel, or exactly how to react to it. You expect him to calm you down when you're yelling or chase you when you run away. You expect so much that you feel entirely and utterly defeated when something doesn't match up to your plans. But that's the thing. Love isn't a plan. It doesn't have a certain beginning, it certainly has no end or visible finish line to those deeply in it. Love happens, and it's incredibly messy.

update on the monster.

She's the cutest ball of fur. That's all I can say.