Thank you for my rose…

Even though you’re sitting right beside me and I can easily just say this to your face, I won’t. Because I know when I speak I can never do justice to my real emotions like I can when I write. So this is for you. I hope you can read as fast as I can type. (Well then, I’ll try to type faster.)

I’ve never been very good at expressing myself to you. Probably because I feel like you already know anything I possibly feel, just as you always seem to know me better than I know myself. (Ignore my typos will ya? I’ll fix them later.) But I know that’s not fair to you. That you deserve to hear what it is I feel, as often as you show me what it is you feel for me.

You’ve shown me, in the past nearly…9 years?…that I can not only trust you but that I can trust me. That I have something to give to the world. I often forget that not everyone sees me through your eyes, but I always walk with the confidence you’ve given me. You make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, even first thing in the morning with puffy eyes and stinky breath and a slightly crabby mood.

I admire you. I look at you and see a dedication and patience I wish I owned. You are understanding and tender and you take my breath away. You are steady and you never fail to be exactly what I need. You are the first person I want to talk to and the only person I want near me when I’m hurting. I love the way you love me.

And I love that although I pride myself in writing sappy notes of appreciation for anyone I know, that I’ve been sitting here and writing and rewriting and struggling with this. Because you, baby, and the way you make me feel are still beyond words for me.