want you to know, I love you the other 364 days, too. All the commercially popular grand gestures in the world could never compete with the millions of everyday little things you have done, and continue to do, for me. You continue to love me when I am, by definition, unlovable. You continue to love me when I don’t particularly love myself. You allow me to remain my quirky self in a world that prefers conformity. I can only hope I bring to you the same feeling of completeness and unconditional acceptance that you have given to me. Love isn’t about tangible things.
