I do like you. I like your obscure facts and how your eyes light up when you talk about them, when you share them with me. I like it that you aren’t afraid to call me out on my bullshit and that for some reason that’s completely beyond me, you haven’t given up on me even though I’ve given you a hundred opportunities and a thousand reasons why. For some reason you like me and most of the time I’m not even sure why, but you do and I like that, too. I pretty much melt when you say my name, it sounds better when you say it, and when I’m with you, it’s easy to forget what I’m afraid of, but when
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