Silver Linings Always Exist

I want to tell you something.

You have a douchebag sense of humour. I am the butt of all your jokes. Outwardly, I want to kill you every time you drew attention to my paunch in public. Inside, there is a spreading glow, simply because of the fact that you're thinking about me. Sorry I never show you the glow though, and you always have to deal with an irrational overreacting girlfriend who can't take a joke.

You possess a ridiculous sense of romance. When I'm tutting to myself as I pick your clothes up off the floor and impatiently fold each one and clear your closet out, you grab me by the waist and lift me off the ground. I  fight you with feeble punches and yell in your ear, and somehow hide the giggles in the all the screaming that ensues.

Your constant questioning when I'm crying into your shoulder is frustrating as hell. I'm sad, hold me. How hard is that to do without any judging. I wait for you to shut up and just hold me close, but you go one ahead and start tickling me. And I know I moan and shout for you to stop, but all I really want is for you to go on making me laugh.

Your quiet moments when you stare at me blankly and not say a word scare the hell out of me. "Oh no he's having doubts about me, I'm too psychotic for him," I immediately think as I slowly climb into the bed next to you. I stare at the side of your face while you look at your laptop charger. I come close to your cheek. I kiss it. Tell you I love you. Fearfully. And you smile really, really slowly. You look at me. I love you too. I pout in anger at your pulling my leg, but I feel so happy that you said it. That you feel it.

I stayed in bed with you for two winter mornings and two winter nights, and I think that's when I fell hopelessly in love with  us. I want to tell you that I love you, even if you love Skrillex and I think Nicki Minaj doesn't suck so much.

Love,
Kanika