I love her, I realize. I’ve loved her for years. Maybe since she walked into English class that first week of university, or the first conversation we had about The Northern Sword, or the first time I opened my blinds and screamed at the weird gnome peering into the window while she collapsed on my bed, laughing her ass off. Or maybe I fell a little in love with her every time I saw her, every time we laughed together or texted or hugged, until I was at full capacity and head over fucking heels for her.
