The thing about you is, when we’re here, together, I can close my eyes and try to imagine the perfect world—but here’s the thing; I can’t. The world I try to imagine won’t materialize; that perfection is just beyond my grasp. Then, just as my frustration starts to set in, something happens. The perfect world I’m trying so desperately to imagine starts to form—except, it is identical to the world I’m experiencing, as if my eyes weren’t closed at all. It’s just you and me, sitting together. That’s when I finally understand it: that perfect world isn’t out of reach at all, I’m just already experiencing it. There’s just something about that feeling: knowing you chose me. In a world where all your possibilities could lead you down any road—any road at all—you chose mine. You chose me, and that is what makes it the perfect world.
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