Amo il fatto che siamo imperfettamente perfetti insieme
Non credo di aver capito quanto sei importante per me, quanto mi hai cambiato e quanto io ho cambiato te, fino a poco tempo fa.
Eravamo così presi dalla paura di impegnarci, dai ricordi dolorosi, che ci siamo dimenticati di godere della presenza che stavamo condividendo.
Eravamo paura dell'amore, 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.
Mi piace come mi fai 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.
Amo il modo in cui mi spaventi. Con le tue braccia forti che mi tengono al sicuro dalle tempeste della vita. Con il tuo sorriso che può scacciare anche le nuvole più dure là fuori.
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.
Ma sapete una cosa? Al diavolo. Al diavolo le paure. Voglio vivere il resto della mia vita con te. Voglio infastidirti, voglio cantarti canzoni stupide e guardare le partite con te.
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. Quello che sognavo di avere un giorno.
Lo stupido amore che mi fa indossare i tacchi e mi fa inciampare migliaia di volte prima di arrivare al bar, dove tu me li togli dai piedi e mi dai le tue scarpe.
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.
Il tuo sorriso asciuga le mie lacrime, il mio balbettio scaccia il tuo silenzio. 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.
