I hated sleeping next to people. I could feel my own breath on my face and I could feel the hotness of their breath come back at me. I never knew what position to lay and my arms would always end up becoming numb from laying on them. I was always too hot next to them or I didn’t have enough room. I hated sleeping next to people until I fell asleep with him and waking up, I could feel in my heart everything I had ever wanted.

I hated holding anyone’s hand. My hands would naturally become clammy and uncomfortable. I never knew where to put my fingers or how tight to hold on. I always ended up letting go or finding an excuse to drop their hand. I hated holding anyone’s hand until I held his hands and my fingers fit perfectly, he intertwined his with mine, and I never wanted to let go.

I hated being called anything but my name until he called me ‘babe’ for the first time and suddenly that’s all I wanted to be called. I hated staying up late to talk. I was always exhausted and talking to them was the least of my priorities at that point. I always just went to bed fully knowing I hadn’t said goodnight and I could just use the ‘I fell asleep’ line.

I never once ran myself ragged trying to type a goodnight message with only one eye open and my mind dazing off. I hated staying up late to talk until I spoke to him and the words spewed out of my mouth and never stopped and I would legitimately fall asleep talking to him because I didn’t want to say goodnight and the conversation to end.

I hated waking up and texting them. I found no purpose in it. Whoever I was talking to was never a reason for me to wake up in the morning. I would sleep until one - maybe even three every day because I had no motivation to wake up and start a conversation about someone that wasn’t that important to me. I hated waking up and texting them until he became ‘them’ and suddenly I woke up at ten almost every day. I could to talk to him and ask how he slept.

I hated the bland, emotionless conversations I had. They were useless to me. I tried to avoid them as much as possible. I would ignore them to ignore the conversation. I didn’t care who they were and I had no genuine desire to get to know them. I hated the bland, emotionless conversations I had until he became a vibrant yellow love quietly forming and I suddenly wanted to know every ounce of him.

I hated the sappy "I love you more," and "you’re cuter" shit. It annoyed me. I didn’t see the purpose in “arguing” with someone about how much you love them. Until I could feel my soul wanting to burst out of my chest whenever I saw him, thought of him, or anything that had to do with him, I realized how much I physically and mentally loved him.

I guess you could say I hated a lot of things. Love was almost one of them. But him, he taught me how to love. He’s the one who I want to sleep next to every single night. He has the hands I want to hold. He’s the one that calls me baby and he’s the only one I ever want to call me that. He’s the one I stay up late talking to because I love him so fucking much I want every minute of time to be consumed with him. He’s the one who I wake up to and the first thing I do is think of him.

He never leaves my mind and I want him to know that. He’s the one I want to know inside and out and he’s the only one I want to know me inside and out. He’s the one who I love the most and who has taught me to accept sappiness, like this writing. He is the one who has taught me to feel love and let it consume me.

I used to to be scared of love. Until now.