I loved you. Deeply, whole-heartedly, sickeningly, with every ounce of my being, with every breath I had, I loved you. I used to say that I was "in love with you". But I've come to realize that there's a difference between being in love, and loving someone with all that you have. To be in love suggests that someone is also in love with you. Unfortunately for me, that wasn't the case. I don't know what you honestly felt for me, if you felt anything. But I know what I felt. I felt alive when you looked at me. I felt a rush every time you embraced me. Whenever you would flash me your smile, I felt content. Your stare filled me with peace. When your eyes met mine, I felt secure. I just wanted to know what was going through your mind. What were your dreams, fears, dislikes? What did you love? I wanted so badly to be your backbone. With all I had, I wanted to be the one you relied on. I wanted to be the one you longed to see at the end of a rough day. Most of all, I wanted you to know how much you meant to me. I loved you, with everything I had. I loved you, with every second I breathed. I wanted to be a better person, for you. I wanted to be honest, kind, loving, gentle, respectful, respectable. I wanted to be the kind of women you could love. So maybe I wasn't "in love" with you, but I know that there isn't a single thing that I have - past or present - that I wouldn't have given up for you.