Who can say if I've been changed for the better...

Emotions are hard. They are painful to handle, difficult to read and impossible to predict. Yes, we all need them to be able to feel the wonderful elements of life and subsequently, we must feel the rough, the heartache, the pain in order to feel love and passion and joy with the maximum effect, but sometimes when you're ill and all you want is calm, emotions are almost impossible to deal with.

Realising you're not important to someone, someone you hold dear, is challenging to accept at the best of times, so throw an illness in and that's it, Niagara fucking falls.

At times tears can feel like the end, falling rapidly and without an end in sight, but then there are those times when they bring relief, falling slowly down your cheek one tear at a time. They bring with them the realisation that a part of your life, a part of you maybe over. These feelings are not necessarily a negative emotion but when you're filled with a physical pain of flu and perforated eardrums, the inner strength to see the positive melts away. No matter how much relief they bring, goodbyes fill me with a certain sadness.

So my way of saying goodbye to one part of my life (yes, it was a really REALLY massive huge stinking part of it) and to welcome in the new, I have decided to spend my sick day writing a letter to my future. So here it is, my letter to my future Mr Josephine Maria;

Dear you,

If I can do one thing for our future, writing this letter is it. Everything else I do may seem irrational, silly and possibly out of a Jane Austen novel, so take this letter as my apology.

I will spontaneously break into song. A lot. If I say or hear a line that happens to belong in a song I know and love, it will take a mountain to stop me from singing it. And I have a terrible singing voice. If you want to shut me up, just kiss me.
Kiss me endlessly; don't be afraid to do it. Kiss me whenever and wherever you like. If I have chosen to be with you, I love you, so therefore do not ask, do not wait, just kiss me. I will love you all the more for it. Unless, of course, I am vomiting into a toilet. And then seriously, what sort of sicko are you? I'm vomiting, why would you even want to kiss me at that moment? Why? What is wrong with you?
I mock, but only when I care. Please take my gentle banter as a compliment. And please, for the love of Nutella, mock me back. Tease me. If you love me, I will know you are doing it to make me smile. And yes, you will be rewarded.
Use Nutella; you can always win me round with it. If you present me with it and I don't smile, you're in trouble. Real trouble. I don't know how to bring you back from that, but hopefully you'll know me well enough by then so surprise me. But not with your penis. If I don't want the Nutella you've handed me you can bet your fat arse I don't want your penis. Not at that time anyway.
Spend a day with me describing the film of us. Involve car chases, speeding fines and kicking someones butt on Senlac Hill before winning your girl (that would be the part I play).
Dance. Badly. I will adore you for it.
Kiss me, every morning. I know I've mentioned this before, but I can't stress how much love I feel when you are holding me close, kissing my lips.
Plan revoltingly romantic trips with me where we'll discover a city one historical fact at a time. It doesn't matter if we never go, planning them can be half the fun. And if you tell me that exploring my body is more important than exploring any city I may never recover.
Make love to me in every room in the house. And car.
Hold me when I'm sad. Love me when I cry. Laugh with me when I'm fun.
Take me on walks. Hills. Fields. Country villages. I may hum the tune from Pride & Prejudice, that simply means I'm happy.
Morning sex. If I need to explain that one we have a problem.
Tell me I'm the worlds ugliest crier, that the blotches and face swelling have convinced you that perhaps I am allergic to my own salty tears. But please, kiss me anyway.
I will send you cheeky photographs; don't be cross, just know that when you get home from work or wherever you are, my clothes are yours to be ripped off my body.
Don't cringe when I don an Eastern European accent. Life is too short, if you can't join me, just let me be.
When I am feeling sorry for myself, slap me. No one likes a moaner. Perhaps a jar of Nutella will lessen the blow.
Talk to me. I may like to talk enough for Europe but if you need me to listen, I always will.
Don't ever silently cry at night whilst watching me sleep. That's creepy, unnecessary and frankly, feathery strokers don't float my boat. If I'm that bloody beautiful as I'm sleeping next to you, rub my bottom and kiss my neck until I'm awake and we can enjoy the benefits of lying next to each other. Believe me, the benefits are multiple, mind blowing and the exercise is better than any gym! *giggles*
If you fantasise about me wearing your cricket or football shirt, just ask. I love you, I will do anything you wish. And yes, even if it's THAT football team, I will wear it for you. Be thankful.
Hold my hand when I need you to. Hold it when you need me to hold yours.
Let me wear my festive pyjamas. If you're lucky, I may even do my slow motion chicken dance in them for you.
Geek out. Whatever geeky interest brings out your boyish charm, embrace it. You will be at your most attractive when you do.
Never be embarrassed to share anything with me.
Love me. I don't know what the future holds, but if you love me let me know. The rest will sort itself out. I will love you. For as long as I can.

Life is short, let's have a little fun. Together.

Yours,

Josephine xx