you ask me to love you. but i don't think i know how, not sure I ever did it right. ever did any of it right. I envy the people for whom love is happiness, love was never happiness in my home. love was loneliness, love was selfishness, love was sadness and disappointment, love was conveying messages from him to her and her to him, making sense of it all through the screaming. trying to make everyone happy, they who were never happy. and now you ask the likes of me, who came up through the likes of that to love, and even more, to be happy in love. well, that's like asking me to speak a language that i've never heard. but i want to make you happy. i've spent my whole life wanting to make everyone around me happy. failing, but trying. to the point where I don't know what it would take to make myself happy, to the point that i'm not sure if anything ever could, ever will. but at least you're here with me, trying to make the both of us happy. failing, but trying. and that's more than i ever hoped for, much more than i deserve.