I try to think of things to put down on this sheet and I find myself lacking in words. For someone who means so much to me, have I nothing to say? I was always so poetic about those I had a crush on, I could speak for minutes upon minutes about every aspect of them; I could string the words into such a beautiful, lyrically tuned masterpiece... I think that maybe those people broke me. And for that I am thoroughly sorry – the words no longer flow like they used to, perhaps they remember how falsely they’ve been placed before – perhaps they are frightened. I thought about it. Your smile. I could talk about your smile. Of course, I could talk about your smile.
When you smile, I must smile with you. It is not because of some deep-rooted feeling of necessity, or some weird psychological nuance, it is simply a happiness that never fails to present itself. When you smile – your eyes narrowing, your cheeks rising – and your elated face graces my eyes, I feel like nothing else in the world could matter too much. You make me forget my worries; you make me realize that love isn’t about an overwhelming surge of emotion threatening to wipe out all others. Love is the fact that your simple smile can swell my spirits, and it always does. Love is the fact that every time I’m around you you’re all that I concentrate on. Love is the fact that no matter what happens – even if we ever separate – I will always take care of you. In one way or another, I promise that I will never let them – the ones who don’t smile at your smile – stop you from smiling.
I love you.