So. You’re the first (and I do hope the only) love of my life. I really don’t think you have any idea how I really feel about you. I know I say stupid, mushy shit all the time, but you don’t know that when you’re sleeping next to me, I sometimes stare up at you and stroke your cheek and marvel at how lucky I am to have you in my life. You don’t know how often I talk about you, or the sense of warmth and relief and happiness I feel when your arms go around me. You don’t know that I want to sleep next to you EVERY night, and cook you dinner, and.. fuck. Marry you. And the worst part is that you don’t know how terrified I am of losing you some day, so much so that it’s made me panicky in the past. See, I do want to marry you (even though that’s something we haven’t even begun to THINK about yet) but I think it’s more so because I don’t think I would make it through getting over you. I love you.