You said before that you love me unconditionally, and I think that is exactly it. but I am not sure you can truly see how much I love you in the same way. I do not love a polished version of you. I do not love you only when you are calm and certain and composed. I love you when you are mad. I love you when you doubt your own intelligence. I love you when your thoughts run faster than your sentences and you speak about everything and nothing at the same time.

Some people might say you are too much. some might say you are simply normal, others might rate 7/10, nothing extraordinary. I do not see you as usual. I see you as specific, textured, alive. the way you ramble, the way your mind jumps between ideas, the way your emotions overflow instead of staying contained, these are not flaws to be managed. they are signatures. they are the evidence that you are real.

What others might call imperfections are, to me, the most beautiful parts. they are not cracks in something fragile. they are the patterns that make you irreplaceable. if they are imperfections, then they are the kind that complete a person rather than reduce them, I love them too, fiercely and without hesitation.

I love you when you are near. I love you when you are distant. I love you when you are bright and when you are quiet. my love does not fluctuate with your mood or your confidence. it does not shrink when you question yourself. it expands to hold you exactly as you are.

I do not love you conditionally. I do not love you in pieces. I love you whole. and I do not know how to stop.

I’m so in love with you.