I love you. I think no one has understood me as a person beside you. You are the person who makes me think of rainbows and butterflies when all I can think of most of the time is what happens when my body dies. Death for me has always been a curious thing but lately death for me has been an intrusive thought that I couldn’t seem to stop to the point where I feel like I’m going mad or insane. It is only when I think of you that I think of life.
I love you. And what I really mean by that is that you are my healing. And maybe somewhere along the way, I’ll blame you for not being the person I imagined you to be, but I promise that I won’t change you because I love you just the way you are. And you are terrifying and strange and lovely. Something that requires time to fall in love with. Something that requires more appreciation than possession.
I love you. And I thank you for making me love you. And I thank you for making me horny. You make me feel like I’m not clinically depressed. You give me so much hope. You give me so much love. My brain is safe inside your warm heart. And it is only when you tell me that you love me that I know that I am.
I love you therefore I exist.