I want you, even if it means waiting for you.
I’ve waited for you for 19 years and I will wait for another 19, if it means you’d appear.
I’ve fantasized of 101 ways we’d meet, then fall in love. 201 times where we’d fight and break up over the little things. 301 stories of how we’d realize that we can’t live without each other. 401 gazes in all the different ways. 501 times of crazy, passionate sex. 601 heart-stopping kisses.
And 701 I love you’s.
As a hopeless romantic, I believe in “The One.” I believe that when I meet you, you’d be the first and only one who’d make me alive. You’ll break down all my walls and it’ll be the first time I let go of my inhibitions and fears. “I love you,” you’d say, and my world will just fall into place.
I will tell you all my secrets and show you all my hidden scars and you’d do the same. I’ll take your good and bad and love you even if no one else approves of you. Within our love story, there will be so many other little love stories.
I won’t fall in love with you all at once, or maybe I would. But I will love you more and more every single day.
The little moments, the not-so-subtle gazes, the uncontrollable touches, I want that all with you. I want to lose my mind with every touch and every kiss. I want to go mad when I argue with you, only to go insane at the thought of losing you. I want to fight and then make up. I want you to grab me in the middle of the hallways and leave me breathless with a scorching kiss.
I want to laze around with you on Saturday mornings and stay over every Saturday night. I want to wake up to breakfast cooked by you or wake you up with breakfast cooked by me. I want to lie on your lap as your stroke my hair as we Netflix.
I want to blush every time they ask me about you and I want to only ever talk about you with so much love.
I want you.
Even though I haven’t met you yet. I want the all-consuming love with you. I want you, all of you. Even if you will end up breaking my heart, I still want you.