you turn me on to the idea of growing old.
Don’t leave me like he did. Please don’t get tired of me. I can’t be the one that cares the most in my relationships anymore. I really just can’t. I love us. I am so incredibly happy. Happier than I’ve ever been, I think. I want our plans, and I want to stay with you. I love that we’ll live at the beach and both teach at really awesome schools. And how we’re going to take off and sleep in all day, and take amazing vacations every summer, and roadtrip everywhere. How I’ll open my bookstore with you. I can make you and your class white chocolate macadamia nut cookies; when I walk in, maybe they’ll say “ooooooh!” really loud, like you hope they will. We’re still going to listen to really badass music when we’re old, by the way. And, our possible children? They’re going to be wonderful. “Wh-what the heck do I need to be from Mars for?!” They don’t need to be from Mars because we’ll build space ships in our back yard! And let them draw everywhere, and listen to good music, and we’ll teach them lots so they’re not ignorant.
I can’t imagine ever getting tired of you because you really bring out the best parts of me, as cheesy as that is. You’re exciting, fun, weird, intelligent, and you keep me on my toes. I don’t want this to end, I don’t want this to end. And the last time I thought that it was all a train wreck. Let’s not wreck this one. I don’t want to drive this in the ground. I don’t want to fuck this up. I really just want to stay with you forever. I feel stupid admitting that. But marrying you would be AWESOME! There you go, love. That’s my gift to you. I may not be able to paint you an awesome picture, or play you any pretty music. But, I can give you words. I can give you little pieces of me. Eventually, you might have everything (I’m crossing my fingers this is mutual). But, if you break my heart, I’ll kick your ass.
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