I don't know much of anything about life or love or the grand "meaning of it all," but this I know: I hate the constraints society places upon us, ropes gathered up to knot relationships, tie them up and place them all in nice neat little packages with a cute presentable bow on top. We're supposedly in the "honeymoon phase" right now and we joke about how we'll know when it's done, when the real stuff has begun. But sir, the way I've spread my scars open, reopened all those old wounds for you to discover, evaluate, and assess, I refuse to believe none of this is the "real" stuff. Sure, maybe one day we'll have an actual, honest-to-goodness argument where our mouths become cannons for the shots we volley back and forth. But I can't believe, stubbornly refuse to even consider there will be a day I'll look into those emerald eyes of yours and not fall utterly in love all over again. I can't imagine a morning of waking up and not being grateful to have you next to me. Maybe love isn't constant perfection, and there's no way that every single day will be a dreamland fantasy, but maybe, just maybe when you've found a forever kind of love there isn't a "honeymoon period" at all. Maybe it just is, and that's enough.