I love you. I know you wont believe me; now, more than ever. But I love you. And I mean it. And trust me, I hardly ever mean it. You’re inspiring and unique and different and quirky and cultured and intellectual and flawed and adorable and imperfect and wonderful. I love you. I realize that this wont change anything, but I’d just like you to know that. Because even if you do not acknowledge it, your subconscious has processed it. The thought will rest somewhere in the back of your head, probably to collect dust quietly. Then again, I’m not the best example of self-loving. I’m a mess. But if I could ever be sure of one single thing, it is my loving admiration for you.
Just thought you ought to know.
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