Sappy.

You stumbled into my life on a sunny afternoon in August. And as I watched you surf while the sun began to dip below the lake, I couldn't comprehend the infinite way you would impact my future. Slowly you became my best friend. Somewhere between the bowling nights, eighties dancing, Sunday drives, Empire of the Sun concerts, and entire nights spent eating brownies straight out of the pan, talking about everything and anything, you became mine. And it scared me. I was scarred, damaged from the last smothering, horrifying relationship in my life, and I didn't want to willingly bring that upon myself again. You knew that. And that's the thing. You respected me enough to be my friend and my friend only until I was ready, until I trusted you enough to love you. My entire being was surrounded by walls; walls that were built brick by brick, heartbreak by heartbreak. Standing in front of that little redbox in the Walmart entrance, my walls began to crumble, and all I saw was you.

I adore everything about you, really. The way you hold my hand in the car and put your arm around me when we're doing homework. The way you tell me I'm beautiful even when I closely resemble a trainwreck and how you respond, "no, you're good" when asked if I PMS terribly. (I do). I fall deeper and deeper every time I look at you. It's amazing how quickly you've become my second half. You're amazing, honestly. And I could spend hours and hours typing out each one of your wonderful qualities. But really, when push comes to shove, you make me happy. One hundred and twenty percent happy. You make me more of myself and I love that. I love more than just that, though.

So, baby (hah), thank you for being you. You're my favorite part of every day, and life with you is so much better.

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