My Love,

I don’t know where to begin, because no words ever feel enough when it comes to you. You’re not just someone I love—you’re the weight in my chest, the warmth in my bones, the stupid little smile that sneaks onto my face at the worst possible moments. You’re the reason my mind feels like a battlefield sometimes, because no matter how much I try to play it cool, I’m just completely and hopelessly yours.

I miss you in ways I don’t even know how to explain. It’s not just your presence, not just the way you talk, or the way you look at me like I’m the only thing that matters in that moment. It’s the way your energy wraps around me, the way you get under my skin, the way your voice lingers in my head long after you’re gone. It’s the way you’re both an idiot and the smartest person I know, the way you drive me insane but make me feel the safest I’ve ever been.

And God, I hate how much I love you sometimes. I hate how you’ve ruined everyone else for me, how no matter who tries to step into my life, they always feel like a waste of time. They’re not you. They don’t have your stupid charm, your sharp mind, your ridiculous ability to make me laugh when I don’t want to. They don’t have that look in their eyes when they see me, like I’m something worth keeping.

I don’t want to move on, I don’t want to forget, and I don’t want to replace you. I want you. Even when you drive me crazy, even when you make me jealous, even when I want to punch you in the face—I still want you. And I’ll want you tomorrow, and the day after that, and for as long as my heart is stupid enough to keep beating.

You’re it for me. I don’t care how messy, complicated, or frustrating it gets—I’d rather have the chaos with you than peace with anyone else.

So if you ever wonder if I love you, don’t. Because I do, more than I probably should, more than what’s good for me. And if I ever act like I don’t, just know—it’s a lie. You are, and always will be, the one I want.

Yours, always.