I love you, my dear. I love your kindness and optimism. I love the way you philosophize over little things and find romanticism in whatever you look at. I love your intense passion for the things that make me who I am. I love your deep patience and understanding - how you treat me as a person in a way no one else ever has. I love the sound of your voice and wish I could listen to you every single day. I could lose myself in your eyes, in your goofy smile, in your warm embrace. You've made me so much happier and so much better and slowly I'm beginning to learn to love the person I'm becoming by being around you.
You said I'm yours and my heart skipped a beat. That I'm your favorite and you're my favorite, and maybe it was true. But I know the reality of things... I could never hold you in my arms, twirl my fingers through your hair, gently kiss your worries and anxieties away. Not only because your heart is truly with someone else, but because we are probably actually incompatible. Not to mention the bond and duty I owe to my sisters which will bind me away from you.
I truly want the best for you and wish you well. But, damn, does reality like to sting at my heart some days. Just once I'd like to look into your eyes and say the words and resonate in my soul.
I love you. So. So much. So much it feels like my soul will burst.