The Couple That Breaks Up and Gets Back Together Every 3 Weeks
Chaos Is Our Collage
We break, we bend, we begin again.
My walls are a warzone of memories—half-torn Polaroids, screaming post-its, and the ghost of every fight we’ve ever won. I wear his shirts like armor and sip wine like it’s prophecy. We’re not stable, we’re not sane, but damn it—we’re alive. Every three weeks, the storm passes, the sky clears, and we fall in love like it’s new. Again. Again.
What I'm Into: his stupid voice, midnight screaming matches, the way he says 'espresso', wine on a Wednesday, picking up the phone after a slam
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