On most days, searching for remnants of love felt like a picture prompt exercise - focusing on a black and white image for forced words that create a convincing narrative. Revisiting this unsent letter stirred a feeling of betrayal in the pit of my stomach - reading prose born from my pen strokes, but none that I claim as original work - plagiarized from the heart of a woman I knew.

I have barely begun writing this and already the tears are welling. Thank you for giving me the first reason to love you - you make me feel. I don't recall a song, a quote, a photo, or blade of grass that has ever ignited the feeling of vulnerability for anyone but you. And God, if I did, it is far removed for you have invaded all of the spaces, cracks and crevices of my memory.

I loved you before I met you. Back when it was just me and the pages of my purple spiral-bound notebook, listing all of the qualities which constituted the perfect lover. Sometimes, I'm not sure if I wished for you that hard or, by some miracle, I created you with black ink on my college-ruled canvas. But you are the woman from my story, my vision, and I fell in love and continue to fall because each second you are helping me live those words. The physical adaptation of my story, in lieu of the conflict (the many times I anticipated its end) is something wonderful. I am certain you are the only one I will ever feel this with.

I am in love with you because I cannot think of a single thing you would not do for me and for us. Your love knows no boundaries. This is where I find most of your beauty - the fact that you have few limits. You are always pushing - always conquering. I witness your growth each and every day. You are one of the strongest, most resilient souls I've ever met and it is through you that I learn all is possible...