If you can’t make a decision like that by the time you’re fifteen then just give up motherfucker because life is way harder than that!
let’s get some things straight…
I don’t know what I’m what doing. I’ve been comfortably confounded in that fact for a time and it hasn’t bothered me until you came along and I realized that maybe, just maybe there’s some point to this whole thing. You give me purpose; point; projection. Or at least, you give me reason to believe that there is purpose and it’s waiting to be found. And to be perfectly honest, I am completely grateful — in a way that you can’t fathom because I have yet to fully express it to you but I am. My gratitude goes beyond the words I tell you or the looks I give you or the love that I show you. My thankfulness is deeper than the hugs I give or the smiles I respond with.
Contrary to how I may seem at times, you are more than what you may feel; you mean more to me than I can show in the small time it has felt that we’ve been together and I’m sorry that I fail to convince you of that constantly and consistently. You’re special, but more than that, you think I’m special, which — odd as it is that your belief may seem contradictory to my own — I find a sense of serenity within that. Your belief gives me hope.
So don’t give up on me like I’ve given up on myself. I don’t know what I’m saying or if any of these words begin to effectively communicate my absolute adoration for the very person that you are. But I do know one thing:
I love you. And that’s all that counts.