Truth is I cannot find anything about you that I don’t like. When people talk about you, when people mention your name, like a kid, like an adolescent first time in love, I feel butterflies. I think I know you better than anyone else. I am in your head. I am in your tortured mind. I am in your good and generous soul. You do not need to open up to me. I read you. I imagine you in your room, the same room as when you were a kid. I see you reading. I see you thinking. And reading, and thinking, and absorbing the world in your body. I wish I could help you in lightening the world, coloring the view from your eyes. I wish I could carry with you a bit of those thoughts.
Things we cannot change alone, we will change together. I wish we had time for that.
I have never loved someone this way. I have never loved someone like I love you now. Everything is about you in this love. I have not once wanted you to think of me. It is enough for me to imagine you. To see you. In your mind and in mine.
The butterflies I feel are never about me. The butterflies I feel in my stomach when I know you are happy, when you are in peace. It is never about what you gives to me.
I wish I could be there to listen more often to your aspirations. I regret sometimes I neglect that part. I wish I could be there more often. Simply more often.
Truth is there is nothing else to say more than just the love for you. As much as I could analyze, look into the “problem”, there is only that one truth. When people talk about you, when people mention your name, I blush. I love you more than my skin. I love you more than my life. There is nothing I dislike about you. As much as I could think. You are a such a good person.
Yes, you are such a good person. I see you. Butterflies. Blushing. I love a good person. I love, love, and love. A good person. It is fundamentally important.