There are certain noises you make in your sleep. Certain ways you talk to people, certain ways you approach yourself, and certain ways you neglect yourself. You live life the best that you know how. You are big-hearted by nature, at times over-sensitive, and at other times unaturally insesnitive. You are my best friend. You are love, comfort, and often the only thing I depend upon. You don't like my favorite band, my general lack of organization, procrastination, or tendancy twoards self-centerdness. You hate when I interrupt you as well as my sleep schedule with undying passion. Your insecurities of me leaving you for another individual wear you thin, you feel excluded from my social life, and wish I'd learn how to finish a load of laundry. I can't always converse with you about your favorite books or musicians, because I lack interest in such things. Politically, we varey and with that comes an ever-present promise of arguement. Seasonal deppression plauges you, relentlessly. But your love for me, despite all of the fore-mentioned, is inescapable.
I grow sick of your requests, no matter what they may be for. I suffocate when you want to stay in for the night. I don't know how to deal with your anger. On occassion, I find you too needy. Your dramatic inclintions lead you to complain excessively. I hate when you grow tough to impress yourself, or those around you. I find you a master of hypocrisy. I can't stand your mustache, or desire to maintain it. I feel cut short when you ask me to touch you. When you deny me, my heart shatters. I genuinely believe nothing this world has to offer feels as good as my head nuzzled between your shoulder blades. I find no one capable of being as asthetically appealing or emotionally stimulating as you. No one will ever be what you are to me, you are in every way my other half, and therefore I am not be capable of leaving you for someone else.
No matter how dry our respect may run, or how far past the boundaries of sanity we drive eachother, we are at all times two parts of an incredible whole. We may not be healthy, and we may not be ideal, but we are us. I know I may not always hold you up, but I refuse to let you fall.
April, 2009 - November, 2011.
I grow sick of your requests, no matter what they may be for. I suffocate when you want to stay in for the night. I don't know how to deal with your anger. On occassion, I find you too needy. Your dramatic inclintions lead you to complain excessively. I hate when you grow tough to impress yourself, or those around you. I find you a master of hypocrisy. I can't stand your mustache, or desire to maintain it. I feel cut short when you ask me to touch you. When you deny me, my heart shatters. I genuinely believe nothing this world has to offer feels as good as my head nuzzled between your shoulder blades. I find no one capable of being as asthetically appealing or emotionally stimulating as you. No one will ever be what you are to me, you are in every way my other half, and therefore I am not be capable of leaving you for someone else.
No matter how dry our respect may run, or how far past the boundaries of sanity we drive eachother, we are at all times two parts of an incredible whole. We may not be healthy, and we may not be ideal, but we are us. I know I may not always hold you up, but I refuse to let you fall.
April, 2009 - November, 2011.
You have held my heart.
