You. You are… you, to put it simply. You are kind, you are handsome, you are sweet. I’m so glad I know you. In all of my times of need, want, hurt, or happy, you are there with me. You hurt me, but in a good way. I love you so much it hurts me. Is that normal? I think I've heard of people loving someone that much before. I wonder if my parents even love each other so much that it hurts. Sometimes I’m not sure what to do with all of these feelings? Where can I put them? How can I release them?

I know how people tend to release their feelings. Kisses, hugs, hand holding, maybe just talking at each other. I know those are typically ways of expressing feelings and releasing tension, and I would love to tell you what you mean to me. There is nothing I want more than to tell you how much I love you. Unfortunately, there are no words in my vocabulary, or in the entirety of all the hundreds of languages and dialects in the world, that I could possibly string together in such a way where you could comprehend my feelings. Trust me, I try. It doesn’t work. I can try, though. You are perfect in every conceivable way, you are kind to me, and I’m glad I know you.

I’ll never get tired of looking at that face. The worn crinkles around your eyes from smiling, and dark under your eyes because you never ever sleep when you need to, and the nose which I love to tap when you’re being silly. The sound of your voice is like sweet music to my ears, and your laugh is better than any piano concerto that a thousand composers could possibly write. The way your fluffy hair falls around your eyes when you’re looking down at something forces me to use all of my willpower in restraining myself from running my hand through the dirty brown/blond strands. The view above me as you tower over me (which isn’t hard to do, seeing as how everyone is taller than me), I will never grow old of. Your smile, your eyes, your hair, the way you smell, the tone of your muscles, how you dress, your music, your job, even the way you walk is perfect. You are perfect.

Not only are you perfect physically, but you are selfless and kind. A beautiful exterior and interior. You are patient when I mess up, when I don’t know something, or when I’m late. I’m always late. I watch you help the elderly cross the street, help our neighbors search for their lost cat, and smile guiltily when you make me soup when I’m sick. How could anyone be as lucky as me? I vulnerably spill my secrets and insecurities to you, and you store them away in some mental filing cabinet labeled, Topics I Will Never Crack Jokes About. No one has ever taken my rambling seriously, but you listen until I finish and you smile happily, as though my words are the gospel by which you live. You are too kind to me, and I often wonder how I became so lucky to know you.

When we first got to know each other, I was hesitant, because I felt so lucky to talk to you. Does he like the same things I do? I wondered. When is it okay to start showing him affection? Oh no, I already like him. I can’t tell him. These were stressful moments indeed. But as always, even though you weren’t aware, you were supportive through it all. I was so lucky to have your affection and your time. I was so lucky to hear your jokes, hear about your family and your friends, and even your eventful trips walking your dog. I was lucky to know such a vibrant personality and a beautiful person, who took the time of day to pay attention to the mess that was me.

You know exactly how to make me feel better after a long day of stress, anxiety, and annoyances. One of my best friends flaked on our plans for the third time in two weeks.

“Screw her!” You jeer with me, and we laugh. You invite me to spend time with you, because you miss me. And really, I miss you, so the plan is a good one. I’m glad I know you’re always there with me when I need you.

“I’ll show her what happens when she messes with you,” you joke, offering to fight my coworker, and we laugh. It makes me feel better, even if she’s not getting the whooping she might deserve. I feel like my head is exploding from the stress of my classes. How the hell can I pass this class when I feel too dumb?

“You’re nowhere near dumb.” You coo sternly at me, brushing my hair out of my eyes. You pull my frustrated hands away from my face and pull me into your chest as I sigh in relief. You make me feel invincible. I could not do this without you. My heart has been pounding for hours; sometimes socialization is too much for my fragile introverted persona. You catch the look in my eyes.

“Wanna get out of here? You look ready to go.” You murmur, lips pressed against my ear. My shoulders droop in relief and I lean into your side, smiling sheepishly as I allow you to steer me toward the exit. When we get home, we put on a few films and you fall asleep, mouth slightly ajar, your arm still tightly pulling me into your warmth. I smile fondly, admiring your features before kissing your cheek and closing my own eyes. I will never tire of you.

I have never loved a person so fully before. You know me inside and out, and I know the thoughts racing through your brain as if they were my own. You know my heart as if you had studied it for lifetimes, and each time it beats signifies a new level to my love for you. A love that I cannot wait to explore for the rest of our days together. Every day has brought me so many feelings of joy and tenderness. Softness, affection, and care. I cannot wait to show you all of the ways in which I love you. Someday, you will see. Someday, I will show you. Someday.

I just haven’t met you yet.