Victorian Romance

Vintage Fire King Milk-Glass Tulip Saucer :)

I'm still listening to Taylor Swift. Whatever. My mom thinks my life is a Victorian romance novel, but I know better. Pathological delusional thinking does not a romantic life make. My life is below-the-fold material.

I think my love life makes me look like a little kid who doesn't know anything about life or commitment. It makes me look like a stupid single girl who thinks she knows things she could never know. Maybe those things are absolutely true. Maybe I am stupid and silly and immature. Maybe I'm seriously emotionally disabled and operating at a 13 year-old level. I think I'm okay with those things being true right now, mostly because who I am is who I am, and there's nothing I can do about it.

So maybe I'm a hopeless romantic, combing the landfills of love, looking for something salvageable. Maybe you've heard this all a hundred times, and thinking, "What the hell is this blog about anyway, and when is it going to get interesting?" Well, sorry. I'm just a poor little orphan girl, looking for a home, and trying to make sure that people stop looking at the new, and start looking at the old.