random thoughts & scrawls

07.26.17

But you don't get it. You don't get how fucking special you are to me.

I've never woken up with the thought that I made someone smile when the sun hit their eyes simply because they remembered that I adore them.

You don't fucking get it.

And it's frustrating.

Because I know you know I love you.

But you don't understand just how much.

It doesn't matter how many times I tell you; or how many times I insist I love you more than you love me.

And I want to scream it from the fucking rooftops.

Every hour of every day.

For the remainder of my life.

So long as I can spend it with you.

But maybe I'm the fucked up one here.

Maybe you love me infinitely more than I realize.

Maybe you wake up every morning thinking the same damn thing I do.

Maybe you stretch, glance at the other side of your bed and smile because you imagine me right there next to you; my breathing steady and relaxed as I sleep beside the one I love more than anything in the world.

Maybe we're just two awkward youngens who're fucking terrified that the other will leave for something better.

Maybe we put one another on an unreachable pedestal, adoring each other until (we are so persuaded) one of us gets annoyed and leaves.

But Jesus Christ, I hope that's how it is.

I hope my devotion is at least almost totally reciprocated.

If not,

I'm fucking screwed.

Because baby, one of these days,

I'm going to say something--or write something--that makes you realize that I've fallen so damn hard, you could curb stomp me if you so desired and I'd probably thank you and kiss your hand for taking time out of your day to acknowledge my existence.