;P (Taken with instagram)

Luna wanted to play with the new kitten so bad, she wouldn’t even let the door get in the way! (Taken with instagram)

This is how he begs for food, he stands up on his hind legs and stares at you;Bunny Adam<3 (Taken with instagram)

<3 (Taken with instagram)

Tucking her in I think, so cutee; (Taken with instagram)

April babies;<3 (Taken with instagram)

Happy birthday to Me, my sissypoo, and cousin dearest. (Taken with instagram)

I love getting things in the mail! Definitely my new favorite pair of heels, I was even greated with a smile by a little turtle in the box!;<3 (Taken with instagram)

Today it occurred to me that no matter how many problems I have been able to overcome, a piece of me is forever scarred from my experiences. I am a person who takes pride in where I am, and how I got here. For once in my life I feel as though I can honestly say I am happy. Reality hit me like a ton of bricks today, deep down inside as much as I hate to admit it I am still in one way or another defined by my past. My faults, my insecurities, no matter how I’ve overcome them before they will always still be a part of me and there’s nothing I can do about it. I hate this helpless feeling. Everything else in my life has been so stable, so to have this sudden drop in emotions because of one silly little nothing drives me nuts. I love my mom, I truly do, but there is no doubt in my mind that the little things she used to do have affected me greatly. I used to like to think I grew to be independent, that I didn’t care, but if this truly was the case these tears wouldn’t be rolling off the tips of my eyelashes. I remember when I was younger there’s was a time in my life where I wanted nothing more than to just hang out with my mom, go shopping, have a girls day out just the two of us. We would always set a date, and my hopes would be sky high even though I knew what was coming. On the day of I would remind her about our date, and time after time this is how everything would play out. I remind her, she said she knows. After she gets home from work I would ask her if we’re going to go, she pushes it back an hour. I check up in an hour, and she pushes it back again, and again, and again, until finally, “It’s too late now.” I don’t remember if I cried back then, but now in days when I think about it I can’t stop. When I got a little older there were times when she would have to pick me up from school, she would be hours late. There was no feeling I hated more than sitting outside, waiting and waiting not knowing when she would come. It killed me inside. I would catch myself crying, screaming and cursing out loud to no one but myself. To me at the time, it was proof of how much I thought she loved me, she didn’t love me or care about me enough to pick me up anywhere close to on time? There was even one time when she didn’t come after two hours and I just walked home. All of my “waiting” issues with my mom have resonated deep within me, it’s become a big part of who I am and I hate it. In the long run it left me with feelings of abandonment, loneliness, and neglect. And now it has made me into a person that almost cries every time anyone postpones on me, I get irrational thoughts and it’s hard to control it. I love my mom with all my heart, but I wish to God she had never made me wait around for her love when I was younger. I feel like deep down inside that may be the one thing I resent her for for the rest of my life.

He can be sweet sometimes, he has his moments. (: