That's what I mean

It's different how I love you. I told you that I did, but I didn't tell you how it felt this time. It's different. I don't feel that giddy, expectant, not-really-knowing-someone-but-still-willing-to-jump-in-front-of-a-bullet-for-them feeling. Not in the way that I'm used to. I kind of feel now that when you start feeling that way about someone you stop really getting to know them and start just kind of getting high on your feelings and rolling around not getting anywhere. I don't just sit around thinking of what can I do to make you happy, what little present can I get you that will make your life easier, what can I cook for you, what can I do. I always do stuff like that but I don't think you like it when I do. You don't like it when I do stuff for you. But I don't do stuff just because of some backwards, misplaced feelings of questionable origin. I don't know how to explain what it means to me when I say I love you. I'll try.

Two nights ago I was laying in bed behind you; you were asleep facing the wall, curled up. I couldn't sleep. I opened my eyes and looked at you. I looked at how your shoulders look big when you're laying down. I looked at your grey jacket covering your arms. Over your shoulder, that was moving up and down slightly as you breathed, I saw your untidy black hair sticking out in tufts in the back against your dresser.  And I guess I can't really explain the feeling I felt. It wasn't giddy, or reckless, or flighty, or butterfly-y. It was just there. I thought: I want to know you. I want to breathe out when you breathe in. I want to be there for you. I want to tuck you in if you get cold. I saw the soft way your spine curved and I wanted to run my hand up it lightly, and then smooth the fabric back down. I thought: you matter to me. Not because of some all-encompassing, blinding feeling, but because you really do, honestly matter to me. I care about you greatly. I thought: I want you to believe in yourself. I thought: I believe in you. I thought: you're beautiful. I moved over closer and wrapped an arm around you, pulling myself into you. I buried my face into your back, into the back of your jacket. I breathed you in. I felt my body fill with feelings of peace, contentedness, happiness, the desire to protect, to care for, to cherish. I felt at peace. Not because I have some weird idea of the two of us capering through a field of daisies with hearts in our eyes. Not because I have you on some sort of pedestal. Because I see you when I look at you. I see all of it, this time. Not just the good parts. I see all of it. And all of it is what makes me feel this way. That's what I mean when I say I love you.