To be young and loved and feel it in our bones

Even when I detest all things about me down to the very way that my synapses fire, even when my worries sting jagged and raw in the middle of the night, even when I'm so very taken by my own helplessness that I can't even look you in the eyes... still, you love me.

You know. You know without knowing, as I sleep curled up around a pillow in your bed even though you're not tired, that sleeping next to you was the first peaceful sleep I've had in weeks. And so, you let me sleep, you cover me with a blanket, and you wrap your arms around me until I wake up.

Today is when I knew. I suppose I've known since that first time I kissed you in me somewhere, but today felt like I'd never really looked at you before now. Today as you said, "Goodnight sweetie," as I was drifting off, I realized that what you did for me today isn't what boyfriends do. It's what you do for the person you want to be with for the rest of your life. 

I told you that I was sorry for who I was. And you were adamant. "Don't you ever say that. Not to me. You can be sorry that you have an anxiety disorder, but never apologize for being who you are. If you weren't who you are, I would have no one to love." 

When you said that to me, perfectly punctuated with kisses, like it was straight from a movie, I cried. I couldn't help it. That paragraph of words meant more to me than anything has in my entire life. I cried, but not out of fear or sorrow. I cried because it's the only thing to do when I am me and you are you. 

I love you, I love you, I love you. These are the only words I ever want to say.