Swag is not about what you wear, but how you wear it.

After recent criticism I've gotten on my clothing, I've realized that fashion is also about making mistakes. It's taken garments and pieces of clothing and making it work. Just because one person wouldn't wear it, it doesn't mean it's not beautiful.

My point is: I like my white dress. Regardless of whether or not you like it.

Some kind of wonderful.

It doesn't matter if it's raining outside. Things are finally starting to look up. The pieces of those things that fell apart are finally falling into place. When the time is right, everything just works out on its own. It was a hard lesson learnt, but it was worth every struggle. As much as the sun may shine, the sun isn't here to stay forever. We will always have rain. As sad as the sky may seem, the rain gives life to the things that need it to grow. There's always a lesson to be learned and peace to be found after every struggle faced.

Messages 88 through 90.

"Thanks for another amazing time with you. I hope you really realize how much I care for you, cause the truth is, it grows everyday and I can barely keep up. You are my darling and everytime I smile, for whatever reason or through whatever I'm going, you are what I see smiling with me. You are what I smile for... Goodnight baby :)"

CLICK: Another Unkept Secret
I stumbled across this one night. It's both a beautiful and heartbreaking read. I wish someone wrote to me this way with a strong certitude in every single word because sometimes it's not enough to just say something. You have to mean it.

Here's to a clean room and a fresh mind.

It is true that one's room is a reflection of themselves. My room is disheveled and unorganized - story of my life. Yet here I am spending so much time into fixing it and so much thought into how it should be organized - the other story of my life. It makes me wonder about how much time, thought and effort I put into myself and other aspects of my life.

Rich Tree

After dinner, we go on a walk outside just as we did three years prior. He and I walk hand in hand with our fingers intertwined, undisturbed by the frigid air. We near the alternate entrance to the restaurant and stop in front of the doors. He pulls me into his arms as I draw mine around his neck. He lays his hand softly against my face lightly stroking my cheek with his thumb. I close my eyes as I let the pleasure of his caress take over me. I move forward as he drops his head and I angle my face to complement his. Our lips meet for a few brief moments in a delicate kiss. I move my right hand to the back of his head to draw him near. Standing on my tip toes, I whisper in his ear, "Happy anniversary. I love you." "And I love you," he says as he responds with by meeting my lips with another kiss.

As we settle in back into the car, the heat is turned on full blast and the radio is set to a jazz station but is nearly inaudible. When he decides our hands are warm enough, he asks me to retrieve something from the glovebox. I open the glovebox to find a little package poorly wrapped in a foil finish wrapping paper. "Is this it? Nice wrapping," I jokingly say. "Shut up," he says, "Open it. It's my anniversary present to you."
"Aw, Babe! You didn't have to get me anything! Now I feel like a douche bag... I didn't get you anything. Thanks."
"I know I didn't have to get you anything, but I wanted too. Douche bag. Hurry and open it!"
"I will! Stop telling me what to do! What is it?"
"Open it and find out."

I stare at the lightweight package resting in my hands and begin tearing at the wrapping paper. His face turns anxious as he waits in anticipation while I take my precious time opening the gift. As the wrapping paper comes off, an airline symbol catches my eye. Plane tickets. I open the flap to reveal two roundtrip plane tickets to France. I sit there frozen, unable to move.
"So... will you come to France with me?" he asks.
"Of course I'll go with you to France!" I reply, throwing my arms around him. I lean over to kiss him and our lips move in synchronicity, opening and giving way so that he's able to slide his tongue inside my mouth. Fighting the urge to continue making out in the underground parking lot, he pulls his face a few centimeters away from mine and says, "Happy anniversary. What do you say we get out of here? We have a plane to catch in the morning."
"Morning?"
"Yep. Our flight leaves tomorrow, which means you have to finish packing!"
"Alright, let's get out of here." With my hormones raging inside of me, I half smile and say in my sultry-I-want-you voice, "By the way, I lied. I do have a little gift for you... but you'll have to wait `til we get home."