Love isn't what it looks like from the outside.
It's a deep, selfless bond that governs your every molecule. It binds you not only to another person but to the version of yourself you have become because of everything you've shared, the good, the bad, the beautiful, the painful. It lives in the lessons that settle into your cells and the joys that make a permanent home in your memory. It's the hands held in the hard moments and the celebrations marked with nothing more than a look of quiet pride.
It's not the gifts or the milestones. It's the wonder of making something entirely your own, something that makes you feel safe enough to be all of yourself, openly, knowing you'll be loved because of all your parts, not despite them.
It's seeing your future in another person's eyes. It's moving forward freely and without armour, knowing you'll hold each other tightly enough that nothing matters for long enough to threaten the story you're making together.
Love isn't a fairytale. It's the only tale. The love you have for someone, for yourself, for the life you choose. Love isn't free. It isn't easy. But I'd be lying if I said it wasn't worth it. Every tear, every joy, every sorrow, all of it worth it with interest, for the smile I get to see every day, for the home I have found in your heart, and for the person you have helped me become.
It's nothing if I can't share it with you.
To 21 more years of all of it. Every bump, every moment, every smile, every tear. Yours to witness. Mine to collect.
I love you. Always, forever, and in all your many forms.
