Because I don’t just love you, I like the fuck out of you too, a lot, as a person. And there are very few people, as you know, that I actually genuinely like. And I like you the most. You’re my favorite.
Because I want to write stories with you, all of them, for the rest of my days. I want to discover you, discover us, word by word, sentence by beautifully written sentence, page by wondrous page. I want to write histories and futures as they unfold to fill book upon book with tales of happily ever after because for the first time in all of my days, I believe there is such a thing.
Because there are literally a thousand reasons why I love you. The greatest part of that is that I haven’t even discovered them all yet.
I want you. I need you.
Because I love just talking to you when it’s absolute nonsense and we laugh like idiots over things that shouldn’t even be funny. I just love laughing with you when we’re not just lovers but friends, too. You’re my best friend.