I know it’s unrealistic… Which makes it wrong. But I am so in love with you. You are not a perfect person, but you are perfect for me. I’ve watched you grow up, and I’ve recognized your flaws. Everyone’s flawed, but I’m lucky that your flaws are being too scared to be mean to someone, and insisting that I have it better than you. I want to hold your hand when we go out for strolls downtown, and get piggyback rides when I’m sleepy, and sit on your shoulders at concerts, and share milkshakes at our favourite diner named after you, and bring the guitar outside and sing the afternoons away, and I want to write songs about you! I want to see your face when I give you presents, or watch you smile while reading old love notes. I want to run my fingers through your wavy hair before you leave for the night, I want to give you long hugs, and smell the laundry detergent on your clothes, I want to know you inside out, and share myself the same way to you. I want to stare at the specs in your complex eyes in the sun, and count the freckles on your nose. I love your eyebrows. I want to wake up early and do devotions at opposite corners of the room, and then make a huge breakfast of eggs, bacon, hash browns, toast, fruit, and tea. We can eat on the patio that I grew up loving for the always-so-perfect-temperature, and listen to the tiny water fountain behind us. We should take Polaroids and drink lemonade out of mason jars and bike to Majors Hill park and read books and watch the sun go down behind the museum walls.
I want to be with you every second, and especially right now. I want us to fall sooo deeply in love someday.