I couldn't give a **** what heat engines are.
My job is to tell a couple little snot noses to sit their ***** down and drink juice - it's easy and I love it. I couldn't give a **** about heat engines.
(I mean, aren't all engines hot anyway?)
But when I watch you kneeling in front of a whiteboard, drawing out diagrams for your coworker about what you're learning in physics, my heart jumps out of my ******* throat and slaps my computer screen like a raw steak. Not exactly a romantic metaphor I know, but it's accurate.
I never thought Expo pens could be ****. I never thought math could be ****, for ***** sake. But you do it somehow.
Everything about you drives me nuts. Looking at you gives me the biggest feelings I've ever felt, and I get scared I'm going to explode. Really. People say stuff like that, but it's true - it feels like I'm going to explode like some sort of adorable grenade.
I don't know what to do with myself. Ever.
Go to church - yeah.
Get my degree - sure.
Go to work - totally.
But with myself? I have no ******* clue.
For one, I don't think I can come hang out with you at work anymore. You have a certain amount of professionalism to maintain, and I am a threat to that - in the most violently affectionate way possible. I am so close to tackling you in a bear hug and spooning you right here in this classroom. I never considered how painful it is to love somebody. In the best ways and the worst ways.

Now you're sitting in the armchair next to me, the ****** little coffee maker filling the air between us. You talk with your friends and draw  and type into your calculator and occasionally glance at me and every time you do anything, I  . . .  I can't. I can't even explain how it feels. You are the antidote and the virus to every part of me. Loving you has been the most exhilarating and most miserable experience of my life. Loving you has taught me how agony can be sweet. Loving you has changed my life and will continue to change my life.

I've lost interest in almost everything. School is school, work is work, books have become boring and friends have become obsolete. You feel the same way, and your Mom thinks you're depressed, but you're not. Neither of us are. We're so ready. We're so ready for something new.

I have never stared at someone so shamelessly in all my life. I could listen to you talk about heat engines for the rest of my life.
That's the plan, anyway.