I’m in love with you. Every little bit of you. I don’t know anything about love, but it’s the truth. I love the way your hair is never quite fixed. I love the way you don’t get angry. I love the way you walk and the things you say. I love that you’re down to earth, but your head is still in the clouds. I love how smart you are, and how much you know about the world, books, movies, and music. I love it when I can talk to you, just you. I love your eyes when you smile and the way your face lights up when you laugh. I love your hands and your fingernails, as strange as that is. I love the things that I know about you that most people don’t. I love when you say my name because it never sounds like any other person calling out to me. I love the way you break into song, and even more, dance. I love it when I catch you looking at me (I’m never sure if it’s coincidence, or if you were looking for a reason). I love it when you’re silly. I love it when you’re serious. I love you in the morning when you’re tired. I love you at night (when you are also tired). I love the way your dark lashes outline your eyes. I love how you read the paper. I love the things you say when we text. I love your butt (sometimes I stare). I love that you’re a gentleman and how you hold the door. I love your illegible chicken scratch. I love the color of your lips. I love the random way you think. I love it when you ramble, especially when it’s about something you love to talk about. I love it when you touch me, just a nudge or an accidental brush against my body. I love the way you dance. I love how you don’t care what people think or say about you. I love it when you’re with me. I love how you get nervous. I love how you sleep. I love everything about you (which probably isn’t healthy), but nonetheless, more than anything, I just love you.