It's August 15, 6:30 am and I love you.

I've never conducted myself in this sort of manner, indulging in actions that would result in happiness. On most occasions my heart was quite desolate, with my head hand in hand with reality and her harsh lessons. Maybe I have forgotten the ache and become healed, even if the pieces came together disfigured. Love has never been as perfect as it's been described. So I'll memorize your expressions and your glints of pure happiness, never forgetting the idiocy that makes you more human than anyone I've ever met.

In the environment I drown in, it always slips my mind that the very fabric that holds our sanity in place is human emotion. It is touching one another deeper than physical contact prohibits, to understand another human being, to be another! I envy the empty side of your bed you turn away from in your sleep and I long to sit in the seats left vacant because you had to eat alone and I regret the days you couldn't say I love you because I was avoiding the risk of ever saying it to you... God, I wish I could suffocate within your mind and soul and witness the horrific beauty all at once! To be in love is such a craze, I wonder how I'm still breathing. My heart (with content), overwhelmed by the light that has finally enveloped the troubles before. Am I living? Am I livid? "Darling, darling! You're just in love!".

As it has been before I don't understand the answer because love cannot be "just" anything. Love is horrendous, it's enticing. Love is countless goodnights followed by no sleep. Love is never goodbye only hellos paired with an irritatingly sweet nickname. Love is your first thought at 6:30 in the morning.