I woke up this morning thinking of you. Wondering how was your last night, if you’ve slept well, if you’ve missed my weight on your shoulder. This morning was completely different of every morning in the past three years only because of you, and it hurts. It hurts when I see myself waiting for you and never see you coming. It hurts when I realize that I’m counting on you for my life finally happen, and you do nothing.
I’m in love with an idea of you. I’m in love with an idea of having you around, making me laugh, taking me to the movies, walking barefoot with me, kissing me, taking me to meet your mom, messing with my hair, been a completely idiot with me, saving me from my unsolved problems. Because while I’m in love with an idea, you’re perfect. You’re just this funny-as-hell guy who can change my mood anytime you want to with no big effort, and who can be sweet without even thinking about it and says stuff like: “I’m missing talking to you” or “What have you cried about?” like you really care. But an idea isn’t enough.
What I’m trying to say to you is that I’m accepting you exactly the way you are, because I’m thinking it’s worthwhile. Because I don’t mind if you’re perfect or human, and I don’t want you to change for me. I wanna fight with you, I wanna stare at you with an ugly face when I get angry, I wanna have no money with you and find a way to have fun at home. I just wanna be with you. And I just want you to be yourself with me.
So I’m not skinny, funny or pretty like your girlfriends, but I’m the only one who loves you deeply and honestly. And I have two things that you’ll never find on them: a brain and a heart. This brain can laugh of any of your smart jokes and understand any of your movements. And this heart can handle with everything for me and for you, anytime. I swear.