Because she always makes me feel better.
Because I can go to her with any of my problems.
Because no matter what, no matter who she helps or how many people she’s given hope to, she will never appreciate herself and how selfless she is and how deserving she is of the amount of affection she receives.
Because she’s beautiful, not just in body but in her essence, her very soul.
Because she’s the kindest person I’ve ever known and yet the most real person I have ever met.
Because I can’t remember ever seeing her break down, and because in the face of adversity she’ll pull all-nighters and laugh hysterically and starve herself but she will never give up.
Because she takes three steps to keep up with my standard walking pace and laughs with me as she jogs to keep up.
Because every time I speak to her I hope that I’m not bothering her or intruding on her life.
Because when she hugs me and I can press my cheek to her head as she rests her head on my chest, I remember that survival and happiness aren’t mutually exclusive.
Because every time I look at her I am captivated by this wonderful soul, who could know me better than I know myself and still keep me in her life.
Because I feel horrible for not getting her any presents because I don’t know what to get her.
Because whenever I think of her I smile, and whisper a silent thanks to the universe for allowing me to meet her.
Because she’s one of the only things left in the world that tells me that having emotions, that being emotional and vulnerable and honest, is more often than not a good trait to have.
Because I care for her deeply, something I don’t often do.
Because when I think “I love her,” it has nothing to do with wanting to date her; it has nothing to do with wanting to have sex with her; it has nothing to do with wanting to have her every day for the rest of my life.
Because I would love nothing more in life than to see her smile.