Hello bur,

I have much to share. Most you already know, as you simply know me (and I am simple) — whenever I find beauty, I feel the need to take it and bring to you:

The other night I drove past the apartment building I grew up in, with the pharmacy downstairs. I strolled past the aquarium I celebrated my 8th birthday in, and took a ride in the park next to it. All the streets were so empty, the park staff had to start the machines for us.

As we passed through what felt like a fever dream of my childhood, a friend said she deeply missed hers — her grandfather teaching her games, her grandmother being kind to her, and all the snacks she used to love as a kid (the same ones you do). As we strolled further, I suddenly remembered who she was. For a while, I felt as though we drifted so far apart, I could no longer recognize the person in front of me. And there, as she talked about the flowers dancing under the wind, and how she felt liberated realizing the sky was a part of nature, I suddenly saw her again, and the warmth of the child-like meeting reminded me of my own melancholy I was so desperately trying to erase.

In my attempts to forget certain parts of myself, you manage to see me for who I want to be. The things you love about me — my kindness, my silliness, my virtue — are the things most true to self that I never want to lose (as much as I don't want to lose you). In every year ahead, I want to be the kindest, silliest, truest person I could become. And I hope, with time, I will give you more reasons to love me.

The things I love about you are far more stupid. It might be the case I haven't set my mind yet, or that I am, in fact, stupid, but it's hard to admire your beauty more than your crawls around our bed; or your strength and kindness more than your vicious good-cards laughter.

The most beautiful event lately has been watching you navigate life — with caution and openness — as if blazing a trail through a forest until you reach a prairie. You want to craft every part of the life you have and own it.

I used to tear every detail apart and cherish the fleeting new pieces.

In the infinite number of possible runs I've pursued, I have finally realized — I want to be in no other world than the so very yours.