They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but in that case, it was worth three. As I stared at the black and white photo that was gently being held in my hands, I realized that you mean the world to me, despite what the tear mark have symbolized in the top left corner. That day I realized that he was different.

His voice would always sound a little raspy, almost like he had just woken up. The voice was unique though, and when he was with me it became soft. Each time I wanted to become eye level with him I had to look up, but I didn't mind. He carried himself like the classic high school jock, but underneath his masculine demeanor, he was a considerate man.

In those three months prior to that day, you showed me your record collection, each vinyl with its own faded covers painted nostalgically with each unique stroke. Some even had the artists John Hancock, which I know you waited in endless lines for. You took me to see cheesy romantic comedies just so you could watch me laugh through the jokes and kiss me when the protagonist got her “happy ending”. You let me borrow your annotated books for class, and with each doodle and shapeless scribble I found that your mind, just like mine, was ceaselessly searching for answers.

The air became light and the sun started to come out more in our third month. Flowers were growing, and so was my relationship with you. Despite my parents never being home, you never overstayed your visit. You respected me enough that you even treated me like a princess, spoiling me each day with your words that seemed as if they were crafted just for me. I felt like one of those anime girls with gaping eyes, filled with awe and fear. I became one of those girls who read poems, drank flavored tea, and even reread old text messages just so the "buterflies" feeling would never go away. Those melancholic words beat in my mind, pushing me closer and closer to the realization that this time, it was different.

We fit. Not like a piece of a puzzle fitting into the other, but almost. We fit. Our words collide and they flow together like a novel focusing on the craft of vocabulary. Our senses and sensibilities match up, even though we sometimes disagree. We fit almost like the jeans fit all the girls in The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, which you even watched with me. We fit silently because we have a mutual understanding of a language, where we can be literally speaking zero words to each other, yet still know what the other is saying. We fit when we decide to just drive around and chill, yes chill.

That spring morning on the second of May I woke up to a room filled with multicolored balloons and streamers, only to find him sitting on the edge of my bed with a dozen white roses.

"You make this dull world magical and colorful, I have never seen a day where you dont light up my world, Will you go to prom with me?"

"Yes," I stammered as I swallowed my feelings just because they threatened to reveal my true emotions. I wanted to jump and scream of joy but at the same time tears seemed in order.

In that moment I knew that you loved me, for all I was worth. All my flaws, my insecurities, even that birthmark on the side of my cheek that I hate, but you insist it makes me original. With my imperfect face which you claim is beautiful, my cliche sperrys, my crazy family; you accept me.

You looked at me like you had never looked at me before, even my mom captured a polaroid. You picked me up and twirled me around. I felt limitless in your arms. The words "I love you" left my mouth faster than a race car. And you replied the same. I felt infinite in the vast world where you made me feel large. I was no longer small.

You left my house right after so I could get ready for school. I picked up the polaroid, accidentally dropping a tear on the top left corner, and realized I truly loved you. You are different. You are not just another guy in my book, you are mine. Thats what makes you different. Oh, and I love you.