One time, I asked you why you do things with me.  
You told me it was because you ******* loved it.
You didn't say me, you said "it."
You only see me for what I can do, and not for who I am.
That makes me sad.
And by sad, I mean sad for you.
I'm not just a sum of my ****** abilities.
I'm worth so much more than what you've defined me as.
Maybe you will only ever like the "it" about me.
But I will love all of me.