My wolf took me to the Bristol Air Balloon Festival, one of the dreams I've had on my bucket list for a few years now. I went up in a balloon and felt that familiar excitement and shot of adrenaline like a Sambuca stinging the back of my throat. I always said I was a doer not a dreamer, bit by bit I'm living my life through wonderful experiences and at the moment my wolf is the best one yet. There's something almost unreal about the whole thing, as if I'll wake up tomorrow and I've dreamt up the whole thing, my mind couldn't imagine up anyone more perfect to fit me. So much has changed in the last six months I'm still catching my breath, I'm looking back to last Christmas thinking-Is that me? That weak quiet thing crying on the kitchen floor? Was I really that empty?
When I walked into that fitness class for my regular routine and saw a randomer staring did I ever think I'd even see him again, yet alone be unexplainably attached to him a handful of months down the line...How do these things come about? I'm still amazed.
My Hot air balloon ride was exactly as I imagined, being in love again however is catching me off guard at every corner.
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