I’ve tried to come up with a thousand different ways to tell you how much you mean to me, but I’ve realized its not something I can do. I’m not good with words.
I can’t describe the feeling I get when your hand brushes mine, or the compassion behind your eyes when we argue. Or how attractive I think your curly hair is.
All of these words have been said before. Someone else has written the monolouge to my life.
But I get to live it.
I met you in the 8th grade. And I fell in love with you. We spent hours and hours learning, and playing and laughing. Memories flood in every day, and the shock factor of when we look and eachother & we say “we’re finally here” is so intoxicating and overwhelming.
I can’t begin to express how much I missed you when the years went on. How time bounds you to the wrong places, and people.
How much you feel like home to me, is where this is going. There’s never been a point where you’ve out casted me. There’s never been a time when you haven’t helped me, or pushed me to be a better person than I am, that I know I could be.
There’s never been a moment where I haven’t felt the love pouring from every inch of your soul, every moment, every laugh. Every tiny corner in your brain has exhilarated me.
You grow flowers in the darkest places of my soul. You make me whole.
“And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you.”