I am so full of crazy
I stare at the mirror and wonder what you could possibly find attractive about me. I complain, I whine, I’m insecure, I have a high pitched squeal for a laugh, and I’m not a very good human calculator.
You are such a beautiful person.
You put others first, you don’t lie and have a smile that could light up a fucking room during an apocalyptic darkness. You satisfy all 5 senses and you calm down every worry by just holding my hand. There’s not a time I don’t want to be held by you. I get crazy because I feel so dependent on your love. I want it all to myself. I want you to myself. I can’t get enough of you. You’re perfectly pieced together. I’m missing so many pieces. Corners and insides. You are the completed 500 piece master piece that the artist intended one to put together, I’m about 20 pieces short of being deemed “half-price” on a toys-r-us shelf in the back.
I don’t understand my thoughts right now.
I love you.