I love the way you love art. And the way your laugh is a melodic giggle that shoots to the skies and turns the sunset purple. I love your sense of humor and the way you make the ordinary appear extraordinary. I love the way you love your family and the way you make me think that there really will be a brighter day. I love the way you're strong. And the way you don't let anything tackle you to the ground. Because you're better than falling. You're flying. I always wished I could be flying like you. But you're the flyer and I'm the faller and you are the one that inspires me to get back up. I love that you're my best fly and that you are forever young. I hate that I don't see you very often and I hate that we're adults now, and, mostly, I just hate that I'm not you. In fact, I don't know a single person that knows you that wouldn't like to be you. Because you make you look like a pretty great you. "Every single thing that comes out of your mouth is a hyperbole." "Um.. That was a hyperbole."
I love the way you freak out. And the way your eyes get huge when you're confused. I love the way you forced me to be your best friend. Not against my will, just against my comfort zone. Because you knew we were great together and I was afraid of that. But we are great together. And I'm so happy you exist. I like the way you're fluent in Spanish, but pretend like you don't understand it at all. I love the way you make dresses look casual and t-shirts look sophisticated. I love to hear you say you want a sandwich in Swedish. I love the memories we have. I love the way everyone loves you. I hate the way distance comes between us and the way we get psycho about things and yell at each other. But I love the way you still get me. And you know, more than anyone, that I'm a flake. And I'm a horrible friend. And you still love me. Because you know that, in retrospect, we're still there for each other. Until the end of our days.
I love the way you seem so simple. Like the sky is yours. And it is. You have a small body but you are much bigger than that. Your blonde locks and tiny feet are my favorite things about you. You are beyond words to everyone that knows you. I love that about you. I love the way you say nice things, even though I'm pretty sure you don't mean them a lot. I hate the things you say about me when I'm not around and the way you think I'm a "tool," amongst other things. I'm sure you have good reasons for thinking such, and I agree with you, mostly. And even though you say that, I still like you a lot. I still think you're pretty great. I hate the way I get all chopped up to you. I hate the way we don't really know each other from each other, only from other people. But sometimes it has to be that way. And you're still the sun and the stars and all the planets to me. Because there is something about you that is so beyond this world. I love the way our conversations are always short, but they are always meaningful. And you deserve the best. I sincerely think that. "I'm sorry I talk so much," I said. "It's okay," you replied. "I like to listen."
I love the way we're twins. And you're the pretty, blonde one, and I'm the awkward one, but we're still twins and I've never felt anything less than a sisterly bond with you. I love the way you're so beautiful, but make the most hideous faces. I love the way you're a mystery to everyone except those who know you deep down. I hate the way we fight sometimes, and I hate the mean things I've said to you, but I love the sleepovers on your deck and the way I can't help but just tell you everything. I love the way the world feels like it's in perfect harmony when you sing and the way you make hard things, including life, seem so beautifully simple. I love you and your green eyes and the way you glow. And every single Tuesday I think of you. Because "today is Taco Tuesday." And sometimes I sing that song when I miss you.
I love the way you have with words. The way they just swim right out of your mouth as if there wasn't even a thought before you said it. You just say it. And you always say it just right. I hate the way I'm jealous of you, but I love the way people tell us we're alike, even though I say that we're not and act offended. I'm really not. If I had to choose anyone to be a mini-me, it would be you. And that's why I'm so happy that it is you. I love the way you talk about things that matter with such a lightness. I love the way you glow and you don't even know it. And even though you're younger, I've always looked up to you. "It's fine," you tell me. "It's fine." And, you know what? It really is. It really is fine.
I like the way you start your sentences in a high pitched tone. And I like the way you dance when you're in the zone. I hate the way you put me down and love the way you bring me up. You are the most and least supportive person in my life. I hate the way we're like oil and water, but I love the way we blend. I hate the way we're the most contradictory human beings that have ever existed. But, of course, I love that, too. I love the way we reminisce for hours. I love the way you have the best one-liners. I hate the way you don't know how beautiful you are. I love the way we talk about the future. I love it when you cry at TV shows. "I'm six, and you're three. Three plus three equals six, so I'm just going to tell everyone that we're twins." Three years isn't that many years apart, but you've always been so much smarter than me.
I like the way you're so perfectly you. I love how you love cats. Because I love cats, too. And I love the way you've grown up so beautifully. Because you really have. And I love the smile that you make when I tell you that I'm proud of you and I hope you know that I really am proud of you when I tell you that I am. I really, really am. And I love the way you get teary at the sunset and I love the way you love the little things like the Hunchback of Notre Dame and corn dogs. And I love how freeing it is to be with you. Because you're the most beautiful person in the world, and I hope you know it. I love your face when you play the guitar and I hate how incompetent I feel next to the talent that you have. I hate how it used to be but I love how it is and I love the way you do your eye liner. You're my best friend. And I love that about you. "Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen."
I like the way your eyes light up when you feel strongly about something. I love your one dimple and the crazy things you can do with your face. I love your flawless hair and the way we really, truly know each other through and through. I love when we stay up all night and I hate when we fight the next day. I love it when you roll your eyes after I complain. I love it when we love each other. I hate it when we hate each other. I love it when you tell me I'm your best friend, and I hope you know that you'll always be mine. Every day, I thank God for the fourth grade. Because heaven knows I needed you then just as much as I need you now.
I like the way you smell and the feeling of your eyelashes on my nose. I like your collarbone and the way you smile when you are uncomfortable, but flattered. I love the way you talk for miles about things that don't matter at all, even though I tell you that I hate the way you do that. I really love it. I really do. The only thing I hate about you is the way you don't believe me when I tell you that I love you. Because I really think I mean it. I know you want to drag me by the hair and take me to the devil, but I want to drag you by the hair and hang you from the heavens. I hate it when you walk away. And I love it when we talk like little kids for way too long. And I really hope you're in my life forever. And, more than anything, I love the way you kiss my shoulders.
Thanks for being in my life.
I don't know if I'd die without you,
but I sure wouldn't be quite this alive.