I love my husband.
Like, a lot.
He's the end all be all when it comes to men.
And to friends. He's my best friend.
I'm fighting a panic attack currently. I had literally the worst day at work you could imagine, and then some. I have all of my finals due tomorrow night approximately two hours after I get out of work. The absolute last thing I want to do is cram, but here I am.
I tell him about my nerves and worrying, and he calls me immediately. He makes jokes to calm me down and asks me what kind of pizza I want. He tells me that I'm not in this alone, and it's all going to be okay.
He always tells me it's going to be okay.
That's weird to me.
That everything will be okay.
I'm not used to this. I wasn't raised this way. I don't know how to accept it.
But I believe him. I trust him. And, he's almost always right. (Except for when I'm right... which is always.)
Marriage is fun. People still stop us in our tracks and give us lectures about how we're too young. You know what I think about those people? I think their life is sad that they can't imagine a life where people could love one another so much that they would beg their parents to get married before they graduated college. So much in fact that they would spend almost three years away from one another because being on a break due to distance seemed like a stupid idea. So much that they've been through the absolute hardest and ugliest of times together, and together they made a beautiful life.
Yeah, we're the stupid ones. To all of you who think these things, I feel sorry for you. I hope that you see what a foolish thing you're saying. I hope you see that all you're doing is killing spirits because yours is dead.
I feel sorry for you, and I hope that your life gets better.
I really, really do.
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