First love is the worst, wouldn't you agree?
I met you as a freshman, and decided that you were the most beautiful girl to ever lightly graze the soft soil of this beautiful planet.
With what little money I had from dog walking and mowing lawns, I decided to buy you a dozen roses. Each rose symbolizing 100 times that I had imagined being the pillow you hugged at night.
You rejected me. I assumed it was because I'm fat and have weird teeth.
We become best friends. This was nice, but I don't want to hear your boy problems, so shut up and kiss me.
He broke your heart. You have a thing for jerks, and I was under the intention you always would.
You let me put my arm around you. I thought nothing of it because you forgot a jacket and this fire in my backyard was not getting rid of the goosebumps you had on your legs.
You called me babe. I've never been called babe before. I've never been acknowledged as someone any beautiful angel of a female could ever possibly be attracted to.
I asked you to be mine. It was classic and memorable and I don't regret a thing. I'm so happy you agreed and I'm so happy that I can finally return the favor of you haunting my mind for the past 6 months.
Two and a half years of my life have been dedicated to you now. I know we fight and things become tough, but I'm glad that at the end of the day, you tell me you love me before you're off to bed.