He makes me happy. And it's a feeling unlike any other. Every love is different. This one is defined by staying on the phone and listening to each other sleep. We argue sometimes, but he's one of the most forgiving people I've ever met. And I admire that about him. He's like me in a few regards, and different in others. He makes me laugh and smile. He doesn't plan or worry nearly as much as I do. His heart is incredible, and confusing. I've grown accustomed to falling asleep to his breathing and calling him whenever I get the chance. His voice is soothing and he says my name a lot, each time I can feel him acknowledging me as someone who exists.
I don't want to mess this up.
And I haven't been writing as much because he keeps me up late.
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