11

17

That how many years it took us to find our way to each other, and yet it feels like we've known each other for 100.

One year

That's how long you had to listen to me talk about the other one, always giving your "NON-BIASED" opinion. The opinion always being "you guys should talk it out" or "I really don't think you want me to comment," but what you really wanted to say was, "Why is he taking this for granted?" or "You honestly deserve better," or "...I could be better."

One week.

After I had been single for one week, you had already made your thoughts and feelings crystal clear, and it didn't take long for them to become mutual and it may have felt like months simply because it felt so real.

One month.

Is how long it took me to fall in love with you. I used to be scared of that phrase and felt it needed to be justified, so in my classic control freak way, I compiled a list of proof that took days, not because it was hard, but because the amount of proof was so overwhelmingly large.

• You make me want to write poems like these. I've never been one for writing cheesy things and now it is all that comes to my mind.
• I wore your hoodie the other day and took it home, but now I'm scared to wash it because I don't want it to stop smelling like you.
• When you don't show up to second period (the only class we have together) or you can't walk me to my bus, I genuinely miss you even though that hardly counts as quality time together.
• You make me want to be a better person. You told me you wish I wouldn't drink so many energy drinks because it is bad for me. I laughed it off and told you I need energy drinks to survive, but I haven't had a single drop of Redbull since.
• When you are busy I suddenly want nothing more than to be able to call you.
• I was having a meltdown one time for no specific reason. My phone broke and I couldn't text you and suddenly my meltdown was that much worse. But when I borrowed my sister's phone to call you, I calmed down the second I heard your voice say "Oh hey sweetheart."
• I. Don't. Do. Manual. Labor. AND I don't ask for days off at work. But when you asked me to come help with your Eagle Scout project, I told my boss there was no way I could come in that day.
• When you swore in front of my mom I wanted to strangle you. Honestly, if I didn't love you so much, you might have died at that moment. But she was laughing and you seemed so amused by the anxiety you were causing me that I had to let it slide.
• I cannot sleep unless I am talking to you. I cannot wake up unless you call me. Before you became such an active part of my life, I became known for not showing up to school, but now I even come on the worst days. I will pry myself out of bed so that I can make it on the bus to see you for five minutes at breakfast in the morning. I will do this even on the days that opening my eyes feels too hard. That breathing feels too hard. That existing in this world is too hard. But I'll do it all if it means I can see you. For five minutes.

One thing you do that really gets on my nerves, though, is ask questions. You have a question for everything and I hate it because I rarely have the answers. Your favorite question is "What?" and I'll reply, "What do you mean, what?" "What are you thinking?" and the problem with this is that I hardly process what I am thinking while talking to you as much as I can pinpoint what I'm feeling. I tell you as much and you say, "How do you feel? On a scale of 1-10," and I can tell you with certainty that the response will more often than not be a whispered "11."