16

Sex Accidents: I hurt what?! !!!!

You know those times you are busy fucking so hard, so fast and so often that you feel that your gentials are constantly entangled and may not survive being separated for long periods of time? I’m pretty sure that’s where we were at… And since he said I could post about it but will suffer the consequences, I hope you all realise the pain I’m putting myself into for your reading pleasure.

Anyway, a few weeks ago Cern and I were having a marathon sex session. Not that many of our sex sessions aren’t marathon… but that’s beside the point.

Cern learned something that no one has done so far to me, that if he makes me cum over hours and hours of sexing my entire body becomes electrified and when he touches me, I start to shake. If he touches me in certain spots I feel like there’s a current running from his big warm hands into my body, under the layer of my skin. It feels like my cells are sparking and making me jittery. My stomach knots up, my whole body has this reaction to him that I have no control over. He found it delightful. I found it disconcerting. He started to run his fingers up and down my spine, from the base all the way up to my neck. And being that my neck is super sensitive without the rest of me being electrified; so with the way my body was my neck felt like he had ripped my skin off and was playing with my nerve endings that led straight into my panties. I shook, I moaned, I clenched my hands and I couldn’t figure out if he kept going whether I was going to cum from his scratching my back or maybe I was going to splinter into a million and one pieces of orgasmic ecstasy.

He kept going, this time he added nails too. Before long I was starting on a wave of pure touch induced bliss. The more he kept at it, the closer and closer I came to reaching orgasm – yet he persisted. The fingers, the touching, the scratching, the nails and my withering at his fingertips. Surprise orgasm. Let’s call this one a surprise orgasm. Who knew you could get there with just touching alone? I sure as hell didn’t. But he did get me there. And as I lay there totally spent, having a hard time breathing and waiting for the fireworks to subside and my skin to get back to non-tingle stage, I wondered what the hell just happened?

What was that? Is that even normal? Does that even happen? I know I’m a bit weird in the way I’m wired. I cum from spankings. I can orgasm from giving blow jobs, I cum from nipple torture and now it seems I can spontaneously orgasm from oversensitive back touches. He seemed to love that he could get me somewhere I’d never been before. I wanted to smack his smugness but laughed instead. I’ll give him his cherry, he did good. He seems to be finding a lot of cherries that I didn’t even know I had and relishing in popping them.

By the time Monday afternoon rocked around we’d had a pretty big deep and meaningful that morning and I was feeling a bit emotionally raw and frayed and I’m pretty sure he may have been as well when I offered snugglefucking to cure our woes because nothing fixes anything like losing yourself in each other right? Right. For a pair of people who aren’t in a relationship I’m loving our communication, anyway… He offered his place as long as I was quiet. Me? I could do quiet, I can totally do quiet as long as you don’t hurt me. Hurting me means all bets are off the table unless you put your hand over my mouth to ensure I don’t scream while growling in my ear to not make a sound. That usually works a treat too. But anyway, I promised I would be quiet and we organised to have a shag fest at his place.

We spent most of Monday night chatting and sitting around with his housemates before I really needed to go to bed as I’d not slept the night before and was feeling the pull of sleep. He had to drive someone to the train station for them to get home and I took that as my leave to go get in a nap for at least 30 minutes. I have no idea how long I had a nap for, it didn’t feel very long but I was woken up with by the sight of a great big hunk of man. A girl can’t complain, honestly. We spent most of the night shagging. I was so quiet, everyone should be proud of me. We pretty much christened nearly every surface in his bedroom and his en suite. Note to self: tiles on the bathroom floor bite into one’s knees pretty hard. It’s nearly as bad as kneeling on rice.

At some point the next day after a full night of fucking and sleeping and fucking and sleeping and fucking… He bent me over the bed and he was slowly turning me into putty with long, sure strokes that were alternated between hard and soft. To be honest I have no idea what happened, all I know is at some point I was cumming and I may have clenched and he may have missed the re-entry, or something – when he didn’t say anything and I certainly didn’t think anything of it. So it kept going until we finished. Then a bit extra, like in the shower. The bathroom. The bathroom floor as I may have tried to crawl into his bedroom. He didn’t let me go anywhere.

We fuck a lot. And it’s pretty amazing. Apparently I’m good sex, cheers Cern. I’m pretty awesome, I know. But getting back to the story and not our fucking antics…

We stopped to have a break and to lounge around waiting for his appointment during the day. When we went into the bedroom and I dropped to my knees to worship his cock for a while and as soon as I got it out and into my mouth he frowned.

Hmmm. Warning Houston, we may have a problem.

He said hold on, so I did. He felt his penis a bit while I was eye level with it and he said does it look weird to you. So I looked and looked and wanted to lick it and nuzzled it and show it some loving, but I behaved and just looked. And he was right. There was a slight purplish bulge along the left side of it. I blinked. Um, that’s not right I said. I asked him if he hurt, he said it doesn’t hurt like he’s dying kind of hurt, but he can feel the pain of it there. I sat back on my heels and frowned.

My blow job. It just went the way of the dodo – however his penis health trumped my suckling urges. Penises are really rather important to fun times, it was more important to me that he hadn’t done anything that was going to damage it or himself.

So we held off on my sucking his cock, yes I was disappointed but I was more worried that we’d hurt it and that he was in pain. So we discussed the pain a bit, was it sharp? Shooting? Could he walk? After ascertaining all this he decided we should get it checked out. I agreed, there is no reason for us not to and it’s better to be safe than sorry.

So off we trundled to the ER in the next town. We checked in with the triage nurse and I have to admit, I giggled she asked what had happened and he waved at me and said “her”. To be fair, I felt pretty horrible, I’ve never broken a penis before. Sure I may have accidentally snapped an ex’s ribs, but we were wrestling at the time and we fell off the bed – plus she was tiny…

I didn’t know what else to do but touch him. Pat him, hold his hand… I couldn’t imagine what was going through the poor guy’s brain at this time. So I offered what I could… touch. Comfort. Hopefully some stupid humour to get him to crack a smile. Before long we were ushered into see the nurse, who took notes and asked about the injury. We left said nurse and waited some more when the Dr then called him in. I figured I didn’t need to be in there for that bit and sat outside waiting. Thankfully he didn’t leave me alone long enough with the cricket on the TV so that I didn’t try scratching my veins out. However he did come out with a smirk so at least I knew it was going to be ok.

We started off back towards his car and I asked. Sooooooooooooooooooo?

He said that the Dr thought he’d burst a blood vessel of some kind which is why it was swollen and purplish looking and he had the sharpish pains in his groin. He said he had to rest it for an entire week. I may have felt my heart drop… What I asked? A WHOLE WEEK?!

Yes, he says. No straining it. Not even licking it? No, not even licking it apparently.

OH FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THE GODS! HOW AM I MEANT TO GO A WHOLE WEEK WITHOUT HIS PENIS?

Of course I kept my composure and may have giggled. He had to keep it in his pants. snickersnicker at least I could wank.

Suffice to say we didn’t last a week of not fucking, especially since we spent nearly the week together. However we haven’t been able to have a marathon since because of it. I miss riding it. Devouring it and just enjoying it without it hurting him. It pains me that it hurts him so. I did enjoy sucking it while we were watching GoT the other night on the couch, there’s something to be said about a guy that lets you enjoy his penis with your mouth for as long as you want, I threw a pillow on the floor and kneeled on it. My housemate came up for a smoke at one point so he told me to stop, so I stopped but kept him in my mouth. But being that I’m so nice I put him away as soon as she stepped outside and curled up next to him on the couch for the rest of the night.

But dear gods I am so fucking horny.

And this is where we’re at dears, a week later and it’s still hurting him a bit. I’m rabidly horny and contemplating taking on my housemates fucking machine called Humphrey to dull the itch a bit. Oh Humphrey, if only you didn’t scare the bejesus out of me!

download

31

Aren’t we all alone, really? Mixed emotions.

I saw Cern last night, granted briefly, we coupled rushed and rough. I made him a very late dinner, which tasted amazing and we talked. He explained that he went there with the other lass over the weekend. The one that expressed a bit of jealousy of me. So today has seen me feeling a bit off kilter.

I’m unstable. My boundaries feel like they’ve blurred. So I messaged Cern this morning for clarification. Of my place in his life, which is so full already and now this. Should I take a step back and let them do their thing? What is my place? Does he have time for me in all this? He wanted to think about it, so I’m giving him space to do just that.

In the meantime this song came up in my music mix list and I thought I should blog about this. This feeling of dread that’s settled in the pit of my stomach.

We are all alone at the end of the day aren’t we? It’s about who we decide to share all the other bits of ourselves with.

So then I guess it becomes about knowing where I stand with Cern. I want to share bits of myself with him and every time I see him I feel like I have an emotional drop the next day. I don’t know what it is, but he leaves me emotionally frayed. The little things get to me. I get introspective and I start to question a lot of things.

So I’m hoping that with some clarification from him I can decide where I stand. If I’m just a fuck and nothing more than I can regulate my emotions for him and leave it as just a fuck once a week and get on with my life.

But without knowledge of where I stand I feel like I’m flailing around without much of an anchor.

Ps. Cuntmonkeyface still hasn’t replied to me. It’s now a week and a half. I’ve gone from being angry to contemplating going to Vegas and marrying him… I don’t know what to do now. Part of me thinks that she’s being a bitch and for that I’m not walking away from him for that. He’s a part of my life and I love him. Either way, I’ll see him next year. Whether she likes it or not.

21

Sex and vulnerability – missing pieces.

I’ve had some interesting conversations of late with someone whose input I’ve come to love for the differences in our perspectives and the way we approach things. Some experience, some insight and a different perspective have brought into clarification something that I had been missing.

The new FWB, he needs a name. Let’s call him Cernunnos after the horned god.

During our very long and very very extensive coupling a few days ago I’ve gone over and replaying a lot of things that happened. Which is a good thing, a lot of what happened was fantastic and wonderful and joyful and orgasmic in so many many ways.

But during all this, Cernunnos decided that during our last love-making of the night, he would rock me steady and sure with long slow strokes. As he did this, with my head buried in his neck and shoulder and his head buried in my neck was that for every orgasm I had in this position, I felt a layer peel off me exposing something I haven’t purposefully exposed before. For every roll of our hips I felt a bit of my armour shatter and crumble. Somehow this great big beast of a man was exposing parts of myself I wasn’t aware that I hadn’t been exposing before. If he’d kept going I was pretty sure I’d have cried. And this, from the woman who used to scoff at all those women in films that cried during sex because it was so emotional.

Something clicked in that moment. I was grateful we didn’t keep that pace up and going for longer than we did. I wasn’t and still am not sure I’m ready to face that kind of vulnerability with just a FWB.

But what does this all mean? 

Continue Reading

31

Quaintrelle – New FWB, new words and breaking of droughts.

So yesterday I had a date of sorts. With someone I met off OKC. The first date I’ve been on since I got back from the States and post break up with Loki.

We’d chatted a while but we never really got to the point of meeting before until I messeged him last week asking how he was as he’d been quiet for a while and being the gentle soul that I am was worried. He said he was good and that he was glad he heard from me. He gave me his number and said to message him on there. Done deal, we talked a bit, we sexted a bit, he thought my denial of wanting cock pictures was interesting – instead I had him send me pictures that engaged my mind. Half glimpses, moulds, curves in pants. It gets me hotter than a cock shot let me tell you. Coupled with his teasing me over messages made for an interesting few days leading up to our date.

He asked if I was serious about all the sexting talking. Did I put out on the first date? I laughed. Usually no, no I don’t. But we aren’t dating to become long-term lovers and build a partnership together. We were meeting for me to judge him in regards to him being a FWB. Entirely different ballgame! But I said that I didn’t usually, however to be fair, there were a few men that figured out my buttons pretty early and I may have ended up jumping their bones. But usually no, it waits for the 3rd date or more.

We’d gone over the ins and outs of what we were wanting and expecting. I was clear that I was only after a FWB thing. I don’t have the emotional capacity to offer more at this point in my life. He said that’s good because that’s all he can pretty much offer too.

Fast forward to Sunday morning. I was so nervous I was at the point of sitting hugging the toilet bowl because I was going to throw up.

For some reason my nerves are never based on how attractive a person is, it’s how much they’ve engaged my brain, I think I’ve mentioned before that I’m very much a sapiosexual right? Well I am. And this guy engaged my brain, he was smart, articulate and was finding buttons that made me a panting wet mess within 5 seconds with just words in a text message. Granted I’ll also affix some blame here to someone sending me other pictures via email that also added to my highly aroused state the day before but that’s another story.

So while I stood pacing around the house like a caged lion, my house mate laughed at my nerves and when our security buzzer went off I flapped at it for 3 rings before picking it up and letting him into the building, I didn’t even get out anything more than a hello and I’ll open the door then hung up. I forgot to say “wait I’ll come down and get you” or “don’t get lost in the garage”. I squawked at the buzzer I’d just hung up and rushed off to go save him. Yes, my housemate was still at the dryer laughing at my antics.

I ran downstairs to save him from our car park of hell and brought him up so I could grab my wallet and keys so we could head out to get coffee.

We went to my local and sat down and talked. And talked. And talked. At least we didn’t run out of things to say. He termed me as a quaintrelle. I admit I had no idea what he was gibbering about so I had to look it up on my phone. Thanks google!

Quaintrelle

I thought it was sweet of him to say – I try to be, some days I succeed, other days I fail miserably. But I figure that’s life right?

Continue Reading

44

Friends, fucking and love contemplations

Today I read a quote that I had to share because I’ve asked myself some of these questions while I take the time to heal myself:

“I asked my ex, now good friend, if she would ever have an open relationship and she said, ‘No, I don’t think I could do that’ then after a pause and a smile, ‘but what about love affair friendships?’

She went on to describe an impenetrable fortress of female friendship, her own group of best mates who’d known each other since school and had supported and loved each other through almost all of their lifetimes. They sounded far more bonded to, and in love with one another, than their respective husbands.

It struck me that we don’t have the language to reflect the diversity and breadth of connections we experience.

Why is sex the thing we tend to define a relationship by, when in fact it can be simple casual fun without a deep emotional transaction?

Why do we say ‘just friends’ when, for some of us, a friendship goes deeper?

Can we define a new currency of commitment that celebrates and values this?

Instead of having multiple confusing interpretations of the same word, could we have different words?

What if we viewed our relationships as a pyramid structure with our primary partner at the top and a host of lovers, friends, spiritual soul mates, colleagues, and acquaintances beneath that?”

—Rosie Wilby, “You’re More Polyamorous Than You Think”

I think there’s a whole host of relationships that we have with other people and this quote has made me sit and think about these friendships, relationships, loves. For some friends who I love with all my heart and I’m totally in love with them as people.

I believe there’s a whole other world out there that could explain that we all do lead poly lifestyles in a way without even realising it. We give our love without thought to those we hold dear but don’t fuck. So why does only the ones we fuck count as loves of our lives? I’ve had more deep and meaningful relationships with some friends than I’ve ever had with partners.

So why do we focus on fucking for meaning when there’s meaning in so many other areas? How does this all tie in to me though? Sex is really important to me, but it’s not the be all of me and how I relate to people.

But I had to put this here to remember to think outside the box while I keep working on myself.

27

America – I did you. Oh how I did you. Wrap up of my first visit.

My last post wrapped up when I went back to Texas to visit with Daddy and how I took 10 years off his life with my cuts, bruises and bleeding in his car. Not the kind of bruising I was hoping for but best laid plans and all that. We never did break open his toy bag. All that leather that didn’t touch my skin, oh well. Next time. There’s always next time no?

Next time…

So I flew back into Vegas and let Scotty know I was back. He asked if I would stay with him again and I said that I thought it was best that I spend the last few days in Vegas in my room as it’s easier for me to buy all the bits and pieces I needed to take home and I didn’t want to inconvenience him with having him drive me everywhere. We didn’t ever get another night of amazing fucking, which is one of my regrets, but I figure he’s not going anywhere and he’s not given up on me yet so who knows, maybe there will be awesome sex happening again sometime soon.

I did however spend the second last night I was in Vegas with Mr. Married. Yes, he and his wife were in an open relationship, he found me on OKC while I was over there and he was in town on business trip so we agreed to meet up again as he was the one I had a date with but had to cancel because I was dying from the Santa Rampage and he bought me headache tablets to help while I was hiding in bed wishing I was dead.

So he knocked on my door after he’d finished work for the day, we picked up our conversation from the last time we met and before long we were ripping our clothes off and fell into bed. I have no idea how we went from amazing conversation to naked sex, but I blame his brain. I’m such a sapiosexual that I’ll blame that. His brain made me wet.

sapiosexual (comparative more sapiosexual, superlative most sapiosexual). Attracted to intelligence or the human mind.
Wiktionary

Continue Reading

23

Mental Health Week

I’m not sure if you guys are aware but tomorrow is Mental Health DayFriday 10th October. So in support of this I’m going to write about my issues centring around depression and health.

This year has been a bit of a rough ride for me. I went through my first bout of depression when one of my friends committed suicide and I broke up with my ex girlfriend.

This year I got dumped via text message because he was too scared to try. I found out the reason I seem to be piling on the weight even though I’m eating right and exercising didn’t have to do with me, but because my ovaries and PCOS has decided that I need another round of fucking up my life with insulin resistance. My blood sugar is so high that 1 more point and I’m diabetic. Yes, remind me to thank you ovaries again, for fucking my life over in so many nice ways. I’m on tablets I take daily, I started them 3 days ago. I’ve lost 3 kilo’s in 3 days. I’m on my way back, but the urge to run and hide is like a drug to me at the moment.

I can’t figure out if I’m currently agoraphobic because I’m depressed or I’m agoraphobic because I just don’t want to go out.

If only I could lose the big black cloud that’s currently circling my head because let me tell you something; knowing that you’re doing all the right things and your body isn’t doing what it’s meant to is a real kick in the cunt. I’ve rejoined the gym up the road so that I don’t have to avoid going for a run because it’s raining any more. My membership starts tomorrow and I can’t wait to get back into it. Also the fact that I can’t seem to find a man worth of even a cup of coffee and some talk is super depressing. Am I going to be alone forever? Should I get some more cats to counteract this?

I’m off to see my GP this weekend to get a referral to see a psychologist. Because in Australia you can get 10 free visits to a shrink for free under our health system. I’m going to make use of it, because I know what she’s going to say to me when I’m back on that couch. But sometimes I need to hear it from someone else that isn’t a friend or family. Sometimes I need to hear that anyone, given the circumstances would feel the same. I need to hear that I’m not crazy and that I will be ok. Soon.

Health wise I feel like I have taken back some control of my life. Things are going back the way the need to be. In a months time I go and get my insulin levels checked again and hopefully, hopefully they are climbing down. And with them my weight and my depression.

Continue Reading

10

Spam + Uggs = me apparently. The equation sucks.

I don’t know what changed since last week to this week, but apparently the Ugg boot people love my blog so much they keep sending messages. And facebook. And the uggs.

40 comments overnight.

What the ever-loving fuck?

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love my ugg boots (inside only in Australia) and I totally immersed myself in bogan behaviour whilst I was over in America for the visit from the Arctic early this year (and wore them outside).

I have always owned ugg boots, even when I was a wee lass.

That’s beside the point though. In America people wear them outside. Like outside where strangers can see you.

That’s just, well, unheard of. Why not just wear your pajamas outside too? Oh wait, they do.

Is this my snobbery coming through? I was taught not to wear my bedclothes out…

Granted my 2am Target run in my ugg boots and pj’s doesn’t count, I was having a Buffy marathon and my DVD player broke. It was urgent I replace it and who in their right mind would be shopping at 2am?! I was guaranteed that no one would see me.. except when I went to check out and realised the girl behind the counter was someone who was in my geology subjects from university. Oh the fail.

Although to be fair I do have this one friend who has thigh high lace up ugg boots. But he is also gay and carries it off so well that he just looks fabulous. I fear I’d just look like a frump.

Getting back on point though, ugg boots outside is a huge no no. I turn my nose at people wearing their undergarments out during daylight hours, I do the same for ugg boot wear.

The beauty being that while I was in Pittsburgh in February and the temperatures dropped below 0 quite often, my ugg boots got the workout of their life. Not outside.

It wasn’t until I went off to visit my ex in West Virginia that I broke my rule of never wearing my uggs outside. Because I figured the hillbillies wouldn’t get why they shouldn’t be worn out and I was in good company. I buried that snooty bitch and often wore them to the shops to get bits and bobs. Except if I was walking up the road to go to petrol station to buy something. Then I’d wear proper shoes.

So why then are the Ugg people spamming me? Don’t they realise that I am probably not the best person to be spamming. These things keep my toes warm at home and home only.

Except if I’m taking the rubbish out. But that’s just outside the door. And not into the general population.

No, wearing ugg boots out into the general public is akin to me wearing white tights with a black g-string on underneath and then wondering why people are giggling at me. Just.Not.Going.To.Happen.

So if you are one of those people who wear ugg boots outside, why? Is it because it’s comfy? That you think they aren’t just slippers? They are slippers, by the way. They just are.

Given that we live in a very hot country, ugg boots usually are only worn about a few months of the year in winter here. Wearing them in summer effectively would cause all kinds of disgusting foot conditions. I would imagine. Actually scratch that, I don’t want to imagine.

And why am I getting spammed about it incessantly all of a sudden?

Ps. I hate Mondays.

6

Road Tripping: Texas take 2

I know y’all been hanging out for this and so here we go. It’s a follow on from here for those not up to date.

I got driven to the airport by Scotty and with a cuddle, kiss and grope and some words telling me to look after myself and get back to him in one piece I was on a plane bound for San Antonio again.

When I landed in San Antonio I was picked up at the airport by Daddy. Who drove wrapped me up in a great big hug and deposited me in this car as we drove off. We went for a brief drive where he showed me his place that he shared with his brother. I met the cat and I got to be a sticky beak at check out the books. There were books everywhere and books tell you a lot about a person.

We didn’t stay long before he drove me off to the hotel that he had booked for me to stay in. The Emily Morgan is really a very pretty hotel and I loved it. It had gargoyles on the outside, instant love for me. Gargoyles on anything. Love! It dates back to the 1920’s and the rooms were just quaint and darling. Definitely somewhere to go stay at again if I’m in town. It’s a few minutes walk to the River Walk and shops. And the Alamo.

I had 3 nights there, we spent 2 of those together, I had a night off in between to catch up with someone I went on a date with last time I was on town but it never turned into anything but friendship. He’s a lovely guy and we talk each other’s ears off.

But the first night was great, Daddy decided that we were going to have dinner close by so we went off to dinner by the river and I ate some gumbo because I was having withdrawals from New Orleans. We chatted about everything, lots of things, music, books, our disbelief in the religious icons that litter our world with such hatred and discord. The gumbo was perfect, the twinkly lights along the river were just wonderful – as was the company.

We headed back to the room after a brief walk around after dinner and sat and talked a bit, he opened the toy bag he brought along and there were all kinds of fun leather things in there – however being that I was taught to not play with other people’s toys I sat and stared at it longingly.

Which I then promptly forgot because things started to get hot and heavy. His grin widened as I undressed slowly for him with some shimmy’s. His eyes might have rolled back in his head as I started to devour him slowly. Suffice to say, we didn’t leave the room for the rest of the night and there was a lot of fun had.

The next day he offered to take me out to his quad biking ranch. His brother and he were starting a new business you see, quad biking. I was overjoyed. I might have squealed. A wee bit.

Continue Reading

14

Blogaversary – the big 5!

WordPress just informed me rather unceremoniously that it’s 5 years since I started blogging with wordpress today. blogiversaryI wish I had the old content from my previous blog that I had on wordpress, it would have complimented what I write here so well. Granted I was slutting around a lot more at that stage so I’m sure it was probably a bit more XXX rated. Still, I had a look at the history in another journal I kept and 5 years ago today I got my wrist tattoo. It was for a landmark year. I’d made it to 30. I never thought I would. I partied so hard in my 20’s – I always thought I’d have killed myself by 30. But I didn’t. So I got this tattoo to remind myself that sometimes life has a different path for us than what we believed. My best friend and my girlfriend at the time accompanied me to my tattoo parlour with me. My best friend refusing to budge because she enjoys watching me giggle in pain, especially when I’m pinned down with a tattoo gun. And fuck me, did I giggle – especially over my wrist bone. I could feel my bone vibrating all the way up my arm. It wasn’t as bad as my tramp stamp I got back back when I was a wee teen before tramp stamps were popular, but it was interesting.

I didn’t know it at the time but it was going to be the last year that I was actually truly happy without a care in the world in my then relationship. Before the black birds started circling, the world got darker before it got brighter. I’d given up being kinky for my partner. I was vanilla and it was slowly killing me.

Things did eventually change, they changed for the better. I went on a my first American rampage a few years after this tattoo. I found myself.

And I remembered to tell people the following on occasion, just for my own sanity.

017

But happy 5 years wordpress blog!! Happy freaking 5 years, how far we’ve come, yet it feels like we haven’t come far at all.

It’s only when we truly know and understand that we have a limited time on earth — and that we have no way of knowing when our time is up — that we will begin to live each day to the fullest, as if it was the only one we had.

– Elisabeth Kubler-Ross