Hey hon,

So recently, I gave you a jar that took me forever to create and even longer to fill: a little mason jar with yellow mini roses hazardously super glued at least seven times, some roses painted on the jar, and on top of the lid, just a bundle of the little buggers to make it look like a bouquet. And inside the jar was just 137 little coffee colored notes with reasons why I love you, a different single note glued under the lid stating: "This is only a fraction of the reasons I love you."

Honestly, the creation of that jar was nerve-wracking but exciting. I was nervous as you read each little note out loud, tears in your eyes that you were threatening to fight because, if they fell, you didn't want the ink to get messy. I panicked because tears still freak me out and I never know what to do. I told you I was nervous with you holding the jar because, to me, giving you the jar was giving you my heart. It has been a long time since I had last done that.

This was a big step for me, but it was a colossal step for us as a whole.

I went into therapy before we gave our relationship another chance. I was so far from ready to be in one. I had just escaped from an abusive household into a toxic household and my depression and paranoia shot up into an all-time high. I honestly was terrified about communicating I wasn't ready for a third try at us dating. I felt like if I didn't date you right then and there, you would find someone better and you would cut me off, you would realize I was a horrible person, just- every possible, self-hateful thought in the book. But the thing was, I realize now that the person I wanted at the time was not a partner, but someone to support me.

I told you, "I want to become someone you deserve. I'm not healthy right now. I don't want to waste my third chance and lose my best friend."

I wish I could explain the burst of emotion I felt when you told me you would support me, and that you would love me for a long time and you would wait for me.

And you did.

I went into therapy. I got better. I rationalized my irrational thoughts and did what I had to in order to become better. Throughout all this, we supported each other, gave each other tips, a good conversation for those depressive nights. And when I finally gave you that jar, a year and then some passed. I believe I became the person you deserve. I am definitely not perfect, but I am better. And I want to become better with you. I want to grow more with you. I take so much pride with you as a person and thinking of you makes me disgustingly poetic and a sappy romantic, something very few realize I am until I do things like this.

We met in middle school, the rain pouring at the bus stop. I looked over at you drenched in the rain and the biggest "no, duh" line slipped from my mouth and started it all: "Your hair's wet."

I was told several times by various people we sound like a storybook fairytale.

So here's to our happily ever after,

Your Cryptid-In-Crime.