All of the Stars, and the Moon, Too

I love her.

I love her so much more than seems humanly possible.

I love her so much it cannot be defined by numbers, words, or distances.

I cannot even begin to describe her . . . How would I? She is my dream for tomorrow. Her smile is my fireworks display. Her laugh is my favorite song. Her words are the most graceful of poems. When her eyes light up, it's like the sun is rising. When she sings, it feels as if my soul is taking flight. When she blushes, it's as though the fire in her spirit is flaring up. The way I feel when talking to her, or near her, or even just thinking about her is impossible to name. It's love, yes, but the word simply doesn't do it justice.

She makes me a better person. She makes me want to try to be the best person I possibly can. Around her, I feel emotion. She inspires me to keep living. Every time I draw in a breath, it's with the thought of her. When I'm with her, I am vulnerable. My hopes, flaws, dreams, fears, scars, wishes, are all out in the open. My walls are down, and there is nowhere to hide. But with her, I don't feel the need to hide, to conceal my thoughts and opinions.  With her, I feel beautiful. I know I'm not, but with her I can pretend. She is the reason I am alive at the moment I write this.

How could anyone say that our relationship is wrong? How could they insult us, call us names, spit on us, look upon us with disdain, simply for loving someone? How can my parents not see, not understand? Are they truly so blind as to not notice anything? Or do they see, but yet not care?

Real love is silent as well as blind. Sometimes, I think it's deaf, too. Harsh words should not be able to break love, to rend it limb from limb. In this era, words are everything. But words fade. Words mean veritably nothing but what we make of them. Words don't last, but actions do. The actions behind words are real. You can touch them, taste them, smell them, hear them, see them. So when somebody tells you they love you, don't answer in words. Reply with your eyes, your smile, your gentle touch. When someone tells you they love you, don't say it back. Show them how you feel. Don't explain it, feel it.

She doesn't deserve a life of discrimination. She doesn't deserve to be unable to look in the mirror, or to skip a meal on purpose, or to bring a blade to her skin.

She deserves tears of joy, times of breathless laughter, many starry nights, to dance in the rain, to sing along with the radio, to watch the lights go down before the start of a concert, to look around and see the beauty and grace in everything, and most of all to be happy.

She deserves to fight her battles not alone, but with an ally by her side.

She deserves to turn heads not because she's holding the hand of another girl, but because she's so beautiful.

She deserves the freedom to choose.

She deserves to realize that she has made a difference in the world.

I want to give her all of that. I want to hold her hand and laugh at every guy or girl that looks at me with jealousy for doing so. I want to stroke her hair as she falls asleep. I want to compliment her until she blushes. I want to be the cause of her laugh, and to laugh with her. I want to stand beside her and look defiantly at those who would cause her harm. I want her to let me love her, if not for the rest of her life then for the remainder of mine. I want to walk with her on the beach at night. I want to see a movie with her, and take her out to a restaurant for dinner. I want to have a snowball fight with her, then go inside and drink hot chocolate. I want to make sure she knows that she is loved, wanted, appreciated. I want to look her in the eye and say "I love you." I want to show her that I love her.

I wish I had more time . . .

I want to give her all of the stars, and the moon, too.