If I count the ways I love you, I‘d have to have my descendents continue counting. As I would not live long enough to count every single way I do.

If I could tell you the ways I love you, I would have. Every single day, I would have talked your ear off, listing endless ways you make me feel like you are the one.

You could call it crazy, but I call it love, the deep kind of love, the true kind of love, love that would go unmatched by anyone. The kind of love where you would give anything for that person to be happy, even if you destroy yourself by doing so.

If I destroy myself for you. Would it make you happy?