I didn’t see you coming, you know. When you walked into my life it wasn’t some dramatic entrance, it wasn’t some sort of spectacle. Lights didn’t shine down and focus solely on you, despite that I couldn’t have taken my eyes off of you either way. I didn’t know that when I met you, you were going to become such a large part of my life. I didn’t know I would want you to be.

I wasn’t sure I would want anyone to be, for a very long time.

The truth is, I didn’t know in the beginning just how long you would stay. I spent the first few weeks, even months, filled with a mix of overwhelming excitement about every new experience we had together and underlying nervousness while I waited for the other shoe to drop. I am used to the idea that the moment you get too excited about something, that’s the moment it slips from your grasp. I’ve learned that once you think you have something to call yours, it makes it known it never was to begin with.

You definitely are something that I am not used to. The way you handle things, the way you look at the world, the way you look at me, are things that feel so foreign. I enjoy discovering new things about you. Whether it’s by you telling me yourself or when I manage to catch a moment of you being who you are, unashamedly. I have found comfort in the way you manage to not get tired of having me around, despite that I wait for you to say it. I appreciate how if I ever do something that does get to you, you tell me, because you’re not afraid to do those kinds of things. I adore the way that you’ve always respected me in my decisions, my ideas, and all the things that are important to me.

The truth is, somewhere along the way of all these whirlwind moments I fell completely and remarkably in love with you. And it scares me sometimes.

It scares me in the way that somehow my heart has made more room for someone that it ever has before. It scares me that I can love someone so much already and still feel like I don’t know them the way that I should. It scares me that in the moments where I let my guard down and can briefly see a future in it that includes you and me, that it doesn’t seem constraining or suffocating. It scares me that I can look at you and see a person I might want to share a home with someday, that I can look at you and see home in a person.

Yet at the same time, I can admit that loving you has been far more incredible than anything else. The moments where I know I can have the worst of days and you wrap your arms around me, no questions asked. The moments where we spend what feels like hours laughing at something we both found hilarious, even if no one else would’ve found it nearly as amusing. The moments where I open myself up to you because I know I can trust you with all the parts of me, not just the ones that are seemingly perfect. The moments where when I’ve looked back on my days and weeks, I realize that my most favorite moments usually included you, too.

I may not know a lot of things about how my life is going to turn out. I may not have any idea where I’ll be in the next few years, or what I’ll be doing. All I know is that I’m holding onto some hope that you find yourself right there with me, just like you are right now.

Because I’m completely and remarkably in love with you. But it’s starting to be a little less scary than it used to be.