I can look at photos you've taken, and your appreciation for beauty brings tears to my eyes. I'm not even sure what kind of love that is, but I know that it surges through me in a way that feels... fragile. Last night after you left me I walked in the dark for a long time, and I could hardly breathe. Not for fear or for pain or for uncertainty, but... because my body has always acutely known, whenever I see you, how utterly inadequate it is to contain and channel the joy I am capable of feeling. I walked because I could not be still. Something was coursing through me, a wild, unfathomable elation, an awe to be alive. In equal and opposite intensity to the depths of pain I've felt, it rushed beneath my skin, pressing out from my fingertips so that I had to clench and unclench my hands just to rein it in. I took deep breaths just to hold myself together, because somehow that euphoria was working its way in between the molecules of me, pushing them apart, trying to expand me into something vast enough for it to inhabit, and unmaking me in the process. I have told you that you may **** me, and what I always meant was that- that you bring forward such incredible, unprecedented love and wonder in me, such joy that something in me realizes what I usually ignore: That I was simply not made durable or enormous enough to survive my own capacity to feel. It is that sweet, aching mortality that I experience every time I love. I am addicted to it. I am in awe of it. That lovely expansion of my heart against my ribs, against my lungs, which makes me gasp for air and cling to the life I need to continue living to experience more of this indescribable elation. When I look at you I know that I am so, so very unprepared to love the way I do, so small, so breakable, and so....eager, to throw myself in, to pour out this passion that demands so insistently to be expressed that its restlessness inside of me presses me forward out into the night, to wander until the sun begins to rise. When I said I would love you with the same level of desire that every living being has ever had for its continued existence, this is what I meant. I MEANT it. I mean it. I've given up being scared of it. This...is a gift. I can feel this. And I will. I will feel it until it either crushes me, or changes me. And I will feel it for you.