I never needed to ask myself why I love him. I never bothered to think about it once I knew, because it wasn’t something I regretted or agonized over. It was a simple fact, this little warm glow prickling in my chest.
The first day I met him he was a mess. A right pertty one sure, but a nervous maniac nevertheless. Since then, he’s broken down more times than I can count. But every time he builds himself up again he gets straighter, stronger. Less lopsided. He needed to realize it’s up to him—everything, the world, who he was, where he would go.
…who he would love.
Not that he loves me yet. Still workin’ on that bit. I hope we get there. He probably doesn’t he even know the way I feel about him yet. He’s so oblivious. He ain’t dumb, he’s really not, he’s just lazy. He’s lived in a really wacky wild crazy topsy turvy world, I guess