I love you.

Not a part of you, not the entirety of you.
Not despite your flaws or because of them.

I just love you.

Whatever that means.

There are days where I can’t help but wonder if I really know what it means to love someone,
And to be honest I have no clue if I ever will definitely know what it means to love someone,
But I love you.

That’s just what I believe to be true.

I’ve given up on trying to define what love means to me,
Because every time I try, it is too grand a definition,
Too vague
To encapsulate what it means when I say I love you.

This feeling I call love,
this feeling I feel towards you,
it’s far too specific to have a vague, inclusive definition.

Warm and fuzzy,
Home,
Christmas,
All things I’ve come to associate with your presence.
All things I think of when I think of you,
All things that come to mind as you wrap your arms around me, pulling me closer.

I miss you, greatly.
All the time.

And I tend to forget that,
Because we are apart pretty much all the time.

I forget just how strong of a hold you have on my heart.
How comfortable you make me with myself and my existence,
I know it has nothing to do with something you’ve directly done to me,
Maybe it’s my personal growth that I should credit,
But it’s undeniable that ever since you’ve become someone important to me,
I’ve become someone who recognizes my own growth and wants to better herself,

not because you deserve someone who wasn’t as fucked up as me, but because I understand that I deserve a life where I don’t feel the way I do about myself every moment, of every day.

It is undeniable that you are partly the reason, I learned to value myself outside of what I am to, or can be for, other people.

I love you.
I know that.

Why?
What does it mean?

I have no clue.