It’s crazy. You’re raised to believe that when you meet “the one” you’re supposed to feel nervous, uncomfortable, anxious. But I met you, and everything felt right. I wasn’t scared because for whatever reason I knew I could trust you. I knew I could be myself with you. Since day one. I knew I could laugh like a fucking seal, that I could sing like no one was listening even though you were right next to me. I could say the weirdest shit with my delirious 3 am thoughts and you would giggle and agree. Or you’d make fun of me. But even then when you’re laughing at me I don’t feel vulnerable, because you do dumb shit too and I love it. I love that we can just be us.
That’s how it should feel. That’s how it should always feel.
I don’t love you because I think you’re perfect, I’m not that naive. I know no one is perfect, but you’ve become perfection in my eyes because of how much my love for you has grown. It’s growing even still.
“And I understand. I understand why people hold hands: I’d always thought it was about possessiveness, saying ‘This is mine’. But it’s about maintaining contact. It is about speaking without words. It is about I want you with me and don’t go.”
You deserve someone who loves you with every single beat of his heart, someone who thinks about you constantly, someone who spends every minute of every day just wondering what you’re doing, where you are, who you’re with, and if you’re OK. You need someone who can help you reach your dreams and protect you from your fears. You need someone who will treat you with respect, love every part of you, especially your flaws. You should be with someone who could make you happy, really happy, dancing on air happy.