I like you, Jade.
You make me want to eat ice cream, every day, and not care about the inevitable rising of numbers on the scale. Every day is like Christmas, but instead of presents I am showered in kisses and tender eye contact. Sometimes I want to wrap you up in a box and love it forever; other times I kind of want to ignore you and pout in a specifically chosen corner of the room. I am not mad at you; I want attention and I know that your warm heart will fulfill my need to be babied.
I still do not know the meaning of the word ‘kiss’, because when you touch your lips to mine there is nothing worthy of that definition- much less a mere one-syllable utterance. Maybe this is why “I love you” feels inadequate. The complexity of feelings I have for you requires a much more in-depth and thorough vocabulary than I can ever hope to understand, let alone possess.
I want to color on the walls with you. I want to eat mashed potatoes with you and not worry when I spill some every few minutes. You don’t care; I don’t care. Most importantly, you don’t care that I don’t care. A lot of people expect a soul mate to be of finest perfection. You only expect me to keep my clothes on in public and not stick my finger in an outlet. I can do that. In this strange ethereal reality we like to call life, you are a dream to me. Fortunately, I still haven’t woken up yet. Unfortunately, my arm is scarred with many miniscule pinch marks. I hope that when I do return to consciousness they will fade.
In my world full of octopooooo and sour patch kids, you are the biggest and softest stuffed animal. You are the cutest thought and most intricate idea that life has created. I am very lucky to have such a wonderful man as you. Someday you might run out of stuffing or lose an eye, but I will happily try to sew you up again. And when I fail, I will cuddle you just as tight as before. I need you, beebee.
I love you, Jade.