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yeah. I’m actually a fucking psychic. WHAT OF IT? I have no idea why that began so aggressively.

Proof #1:  So there’s this ex-lover of mine who ALWAYS texts me or talks to me in some way the day after I have a dream about hir.  It’s kind of magical.  Idk what it means, I don’t even know if I ever want to date hir again there’s just this…connection. FUCKING PSYCHIC.

Proof #2: I rock the tarot cards….and…like….75% of the time they’re right.  Pretty damn good, if you ask me. FUCKING PSYCHIC.

I think we all agree that this proof is enough…

So there’s this book about five love languages.  I fucking hate that book. Ugh…douchey ex girlfriends’ ex pathetically trying to use it to rekindle something…UGH..While I was dating the ex.  um, dramz. OK.  I don’t actually hate the book, but it’s healthy enough to irrationally dislike a book because it was used in several attempts to break you up with your girlfriend, right? Right.  (haaaaay AWKWARD.)

Anyway, the stupid book has a point. (not like I’ve ever read it)  We all have different ways we accept and give love.  I, for instance, am more focused on the love that I give.  OBVS I want to receive love too, but I focus on giving love in the form of support and kindness.  I’m a super (obnoxiously so) positive person, so I’m always telling people I love that I love them and that they’re great and wonderful and amazing.  And I mean it. (friends too!)  The craptastic book says there are only five love languages (apparently.) But, I think there are tons.  And I’m fucking psychic. So I’m right.  Also, there are no rules. Don’t limit yourself to five languages.  Rock the trilingual lovin’, darlings, don’t limit yourself.

Look, I’m as cynical and jaded as the next person.  I rock the jackoff motion (at least mentally) during most cutesie moments as well as when people say “I just knew” about their lovers. I mean, shit, didn’t YOU “just know” about every person you’ve ever dated? (If you just say it about every person you date, you’re bound to get it right sometime, right?)

 But there are some things that are just magic. Some people just feel perfect. One amazing person was perfect for me because of the magic between us. There’s a guy who was perfect because he loved video games and spoke in random accents…JUST LIKE ME!  A girl who was perfection because there was not once in the two years that we dated when could I foresee NOT being passionately into her.   …a guy who’s perfect because he always knows what to say to me and, well, he just feels right.  …a girl who loves the same art as me….

Who knows. Maybe in a few months I’ll be starting a post with “well, I just knew.  Now throw it in my face, you smug cocksuckers.”  And I expect each one of you assholes to throw it right back in my face.  And I’ll tell you, “NO. I just knew because I’m a FUCKING PSYCHIC.”

Until then:

really, I just look for pictures and figure out how to tie them into the blog. But, tell me this isn't a rockin' pic. Bad. Ass.

I’m off to paint and cuddle with my kitteh in hopes to sooth my hurty back, cankle and uterus. (all unrelated pains…sadly)

Stay amazing you delicious little blogdrops.  I’m sorry for calling you assholes.  I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Swearsies.

xx

LeeAnn

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