Just recently I was told by a man that is not scared to tell me what I need to hear, or let things slide, that in three in a half years I would be engaged to be married. I almost died. Not out of excitement, but rather fear of him being right. Although I love love, and the thought of being in love, there is no way that in three and a half years, this girl, being nineteen then, will be ready to be somebody's cute little wifey. No way I tell you.
I haven't let that topic escape, it's been on my mind nonstop for the last three days. So rather than let the though fear me, I've decided to embrace it, even though it is not likely. So if I do get married when I'm nineteen feel free to tell me I told you so.
It'd be silly for me to say that I haven't found that boy that makes a smile spread across my face just thinking about him. Or the one where I can just be my crazy self with. Or the one who gives me butterflies when I see his face. The boy who would hold me close and tell me everything is going to be okay, when I am certain it is not. The one who makes me feel like I am loved. The one whom I love.
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