Me encanta lo imperfectamente perfectos que somos juntos

Creo que hasta hace poco no me había dado cuenta de lo mucho que significas para mí, de lo mucho que me has cambiado y de lo mucho que yo te he cambiado a ti.

Estábamos tan atrapados en nuestro miedo al compromiso, en recuerdos dolorosos, que nos olvidamos de disfrutar de la presencia que estábamos compartiendo.

Estábamos con miedo al amor, let’s be honest with each other. You were afraid that I’d cheat and I was afraid you would walk away the moment I showed you any emotion.

But what makes my heart burst with happiness is that we’re done with that. I love how my face is grinning when I see you. And I love the proud look on yours when you see that.

I love how you’re surprised when I say that I love the way you look in blue. How you’re surprised when I say that I enjoyed your pasta.

It’s like you’re wondering how that could be. It’s like you don’t think you’re good enough, you’re good-looking enough or manly enough when you cook.

But until my last breath, I’ll make sure to show you how amazing you are. I’ll make sure that putting a smile on that face of yours is the first thing I do in the morning and the last one before we go to bed.

Me encanta como me haces feel like I’m the most beautiful woman who ever lived. We both know I’m not, but you make me feel like I am.

You love my weird nose, my big ears and stretch marks. You even love me when I’m drowning myself in beer and burgers, watching me like I’m some kind of a masterpiece.

You love me when I’m wearing cartoon underwear, even though you low-key hate it. You love me regardless of how I feel, how I look, and if that’s not real love, I don’t know what is.

Me encanta como me asustas Con tus fuertes brazos que pueden mantenerme a salvo de las tormentas de la vida. Con tu sonrisa que puede ahuyentar incluso las nubes más duras que hay ahí fuera.

With your love, so big, so intense, that I’m afraid I’ll get lost in it. That I’m afraid that once you leave, I won’t survive it.

¿Pero sabes qué? Que le den. Que le den a los miedos. Quiero vivir el resto de mi vida contigo.  Quiero molestarte, quiero cantarte canciones estúpidas y ver partidos contigo.

I want us to travel the world and climb mountains. I want to get lost in love and there’s no one I’d rather have by my side than you.

And I just love you. I don’t think I ever told you that, but I can write it down. Because it’s you. It has always been you. El que soñaba con tener algún día.

El estúpido amor que me hace llevar tacones y tropiezo miles de veces antes de llegar al bar, donde me los quitas de los pies y me das tus zapatos.

The stupid love that makes me love your music and makes you love mine. The stupid love that had us buying matching shirts—fries and ketchup being the perfect match.

The stupid love that makes me feel like I’m the biggest idiot who has ever lived, but hey, at least I’m your idiot.

Maybe we’re not perfect. We don’t go to the movies; instead, we binge-watch an entire season of a TV show. We don’t go to fancy restaurants; instead, we cook at home and almost burn the kitchen down.

We don’t do it like the people in movies do, but we do it our own way.

I’m not perfect, I’m not lovable all the time. I tend to cry without reason and I love burgers sometimes more than I love myself. I’m a diehard fan of comics and most of the time I pretend to have it all under control when mostly I don’t.

And you’re not perfect either. You yell at the TV too loud when there’s a game on. You’re closed up while I’m babbling on and on. But we’re perfect together.

Tu sonrisa seca mis lágrimas, mi balbuceo ahuyenta tu silencio. But we’re here. We’re in love. And I don’t want us to go anywhere, just stay in this moment, holding hands while Supernatural plays on TV. Us, being imperfectly perfect as we are.