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Je 'taime. It's seven in the morning. I can hear your alarm through the ceiling, I can hear you crawling out of bed. As excited as I am about the rest of my life, a part of me wants to just keep waking up beside you. I wish I could just go on forever, sharing tiny sparks of glances, waiting oh so patiently for when I can feel you move above, around, inside me again. I want to stay as near as I possibly can, gaining fufillment from the way we casually talk about, and agree on, things that are so important. Things that I cannot talk about with anyone I'm close to, because they'll just look at me. I want to stay here and feel the ridiculous amount of contentment I get from chasing Alessa through the hallway, making her chocolate milk, hearing her laugh. I would break my arms if it would make her laugh. I know it's selfish, immature, impractical... and I know it's not going to happen. And I can deal with that. But no one can be expected to just end a week and a half of easygoing bliss with no wistful thoughts eddying through their head, can they? Te amo. The way I feel about you gives new, wonderous meaning to the word "burning." I very much thought something was twisted, crippled, stamped out inside of me, that I would never feel this way again. I'm so pleased I was wrong. I'm so pleased it was you who corrected me. Always before, this early in a relationship, I may or may not have been afire for someone, but it wasn't exactly for that person. It was for new love, it was for hope, it was for validating my existance through another person. This time it's for you. Obviously, some of this is misled enthusiasm, as well as we seem to know each other, we really don't. Some things are misconceptions, some things are assumptions. But it feels healthy, it feels proper, it feels correct. I'm not kinda into you, and fighting the void inside with physical contact. I'm not kind of into you, but gritting my teeth over a thousand little things. I'm not kind of into you, but holding a core section of myself back. I'm just, very simply, into you. Ich liebe Dich. I'm into the way your eyes gleam with passion. I could lie next to you for hours and listen to you breath. I'm estatic over the way you casually mention that you've noticed some inherent part of me, like my dual nature when it comes to nearly anything, and how you actually like it. I love it when you speak about something you're impassioned about, my smouldering activist, who, even with everything life has loaded down on you, still manages to even notice others exist, let alone that they have problems. Je 'taime. Te amo. Ich liebe Dich. And thank you.