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Once again, I am here throwing the same question of how and why does ian love me? how can he? In moments like this I recall the poem How Do I Love Thee and how the unknown author so perfectly described how it is impossible to explain how much you love someone. However, i can say why. I love the obvious physical charm, i love his playfull-ness, i love his honesty, i love the fact that he is a riddle that i am unwinding, i love the fact that i love every part of that riddle. Every piece of the puzzle i love. I love the way he reads my mind. I love that he actually listens. I could go on for hours about all the things that i love about him, plainly put i guess i could just say i'm in love. But that doesnt cut it for me because it is so much more than that. It runs deeper, and the chasm is growing ever larger right into my soul and is unescapable. When i think of all of the cute little things he does, like blow into the reciever when i've been quiet too long, and then does that silly doot doobie doot doot, DOOT DOOT thing...` laughs...the way we fight over who loves the other more...goofy little silly things like that i fawn over. I am such a romantic sap it isnt even funny...then i love the way he tortures me by telling me he would just hold me, which is so god awful because its what i want more than anything in the world. I could die complete and happy if i could just have and hold onto that very physical action that does so much more than it literally does. I probably make no sense. I could write a poem, yet i am not in that kind of a mood. more like, express in essay form. thank god for journals. Thank God for Ian. =/

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