Tales of a Teenage Tomboy

Ed...

He's perfect. Seriously, that's about all there is to it. His manners are impeccable. The respect he shows me is unlike any other respect I've ever seen. (This may sound biased but ask anyone) He is so extremely smart but refuses to flaunt it. He is so fucking adorable from the brown curls on his head to his sea green eyes to the shape of his nose to his grin to the length of his arms to his warm and loving hands to the nails on his fingers to his skinny little hips to his storky legs to the tips of his toes. He gives the best hugs. He wraps me up so tightly and squeezes the shit out of me, and then he lets go and kisses me gently on the forehead. His arm is constantly around me, or he's holding my hand, or his hand rests on my back. He always tells me he loves me and kisses me whenever he gets the opportunity. We can poke and tease each other and end up having tickle fights until one of us kisses the other. Never once have I doubted the burning love he so obviously has for me.
Sometimes I open my phone to see that he has written me an entire essay on why he loves me. When I pass him in the hallways, he might drop an envelope on my books containing a poem he wrote about me. We have arguments over ridiculous things, and he will sneak up behind me when I'm at my locker and squeeze my torso with all his might and say he's sorry. And then for the rest of the day he hugs me and kisses me says he loves me more than anything.
Ed is the best thing to ever happen to me. He has saved me countless times; he talks me out of cutting and he's even stopped me from killing myself. Once he rode his bike all the way to my house (like 5 miles) and sneaked into my room to take the rope away from me. I can't be more grateful for that. I love you, Ed. Don't ever leave me.