My Beloved, My Sunshine, My Emotional Support Human,
I regret to inform you that I have fallen for you in the most inconvenient, dramatic, cartoonishly intense way possible. Like, trip down the stairs in slow motion while violin music plays fallen. Every time you exist near me, my heart starts acting like it’s auditioning for a telenovela—dramatic pauses, heavy sighs, unnecessary yearning.
You are so attractive it feels personal. Rude, even. I will be minding my business and suddenly remember your face, and BOOM—brain empty, heart full, dignity gone. Scientists should study you, because there is no logical explanation for how one person can be this charming without violating several laws of nature.
If loving you were an Olympic sport, I would place first, cry on the podium, and thank you in my speech while sobbing uncontrollably. I would fight a goose for you. Not win—but fight bravely. I would share my snacks with you. The good snacks.
You are my favorite thought, my favorite distraction, and the reason I smile at my phone like a fool. If this is cringe, so be it. I am cringe—but I am yours.
