I Love You, Easton Miller.

Your eyes scan the room. It seems as if you pay attention to everything. Every little detail. Every little noise, and every sudden motion. You capture it within you as if you want to save those moments forever.

You have this attentive soul that makes me want to get inside your head, even for just a second. I long to know how your mind works- What interests you, and what doesn't.

You're the type of guy that takes every word, every facial expression, every change in pace, and every emotion - and you run with it. You cherish it. You make it your prime focus. You make it yours.

When you have your mind set on something, you need it; you crave it. Believe me, I understand.

But I know it's not me. It never has been. I've never been a thought in your mind that makes you think harder. A thought you truly focus on, and crave.

I used to think you saw everything. That you saw things in ordinary places no one else did. That you saw things in people, that no one else could.

Yet, with all of this intuitive nature of yours, one thing seems to go right over your head.

It's silent, but it's there. As delicate and soft as it may be, it's forever lingering ; a heavy presence on your chest; like the feeling of not being able to take a deep breath. A thick blanket of fog surrounds us, but you never sense it. This all goes completely unnoticed by you.

- and whether you choose to ignore it, or you really don't notice.

I love you, Easton Miller.