Breaking up with College: A Letter

Dear College,

I want you to know how great you are. I want you to know all of the wonderful things you've done for me--like showing me how to be a feminist, how to actually do math, and how to tell if my professor is really reading my essays.
I want to thank you for that little spot you had waiting for me, on the very first day of school. The one with the concrete bench and the freshly mowed grass with trees all around me. Your campus is beautiful.

But... you've also been really stressful for me. In fact, I can't remember a time where I wasn't biting my nails, shedding tears, or staying up until 4 in the morning to finish homework. And lately, I haven't been my happy, hyper, weird self. And I miss myself. The girl that would walk to the library once a week to get a new book, the girl that marched up and down the art supplies isle until she thought of something fun to paint, the girl who actually laughed at jokes instead of yawned or cried or hyperventilated.

This week, I've realized that I only have one life. Only one. I will only be 21 once. I will only be engaged once. I will only get married once. I will only have so many summers to sit outside reading, to sleep in my boat, to be with the ones that I love.

And I just don't think my summer should include those hyperventilating, sleepless, anxious nights anymore.

So I think we need to go on a break until Spring.
I'm sorry.
It's you, not me.

I love you.

she will find what is lost.

This morning I looked through my notes on my phone and found a phrase that said,

"She will find what is lost."

Not remembering what I was talking about, I searched the phrase and this picture popped up.

Finding this art piece, by Brian Kershisnik, turned out to be the biggest blessing today.

Sometimes life is really hard and I feel like I am alone.

But of course God is full of love and is going to gently remind me that I'm not.

As of late.

Sometimes it takes a lot of tears, constant anxiety, and sleep deprivation to finally grasp

the concept of prioritizing. 

And not prioritizing for school or work, but for happiness.

So, instead of studying, I ate ice cream with my fiance, cried to my parents, and dropped a class.

Life is almost always contradictory, sometimes ironic, and if you're lucky,

it can also be simple.

June 13th.

I always feel like it's a little victory when I finally accept a

not-so-great trait of mine and am able to laugh at it.

I am a little anxious, and slightly weird and maybe gossipy,

and impossibly nerdy.

But I'm also pretty smart and I can be nice and somewhat funny.

And all of these traits are what make my family,

my fiance,

and my friends 

love me.

And today I loved myself a whole lot which is always a reason to celebrate.

Metaphorically, speaking

Dear you,
or me.

Today, something great happened. As you were slicing your Kraft cheese, you glanced at the expiration date. And I know, why do we always start these letters so strangely? Because I'm me. or you. or whatever. The date just so happened to be October 16th. The day you and Dean so lovingly picked out together after finding you had to wait another eight months to be married.
Four months and two weeks, exactly.

And as a Heavenly Father devotee, you instantly felt it was a gift from God. I know, I know. An expiration date is a gift from God? Now everyone just sounds pathetically insane. But you never look at the expiration dates (unless they are in yours and Dean's fridge--and then who knows how long that cheese has been in there.)

BUT ANYWAY. That just made your day so fantastic--to finally have something expire in your wedding month. And then, your dad just plants a giant, fantastic, surprising, metaphorical gift right in your metaphorical lap that you have the option to open now, or wait to open.
And you've decided to open this beautifully metaphoric gift from God.

And now you and Dean will be able to grow together closer to God nightly, weekly, monthly--or whenever you please.

And that is enough to make these next four months and two weeks a piece of cake.

love always//talor

rediscovery.

Dear You,
or me.
Or whomever.

Has anyone ever told you that you have anxiety? Because you do.
You do, and guess what? It's okay.

Sometimes you sit in fear that you'll never know what you want to do with your life.
From not knowing what to major in and what classes to sign up for, to what hairstyle you want for your wedding, and will those colors really match with the fall leaves?

But guess what else?
You rediscovered something this week.
A piece of paper that tells you about your life, about your marriage, about your family, about your talents and responsiblities.

And then you breathe, because you realize that God knew what He was doing when He decided to make you the college-going, stress-ridden, quirky little feminist that you are.

And until you figure out what you want to be "when you grow up", nature wouldn't be a bad place to spend your time.

 

love always//talor

You are a palace.

Dear You,

Or me.

A few days ago I talked to a dear friend. A friend who I swear has all of the wisdom in the world flowing through her finger tips and out of her mouth. She compared herself to a house—how sometimes you need to paint and learn to love the color tan, even though it’s hard to change, even if you love your blue paint. And I’m sure you’re reading this thinking, weird? I promise I’m going somewhere with this.

C.S. Lewis once said that we are all houses.

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of—throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running towers, making courtyards.

You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come live in it Himself.”

But to be honest, sometimes I feel more like a trailer. Sometimes I feel trampled on by others. Sometimes I feel trampled on by myself. Sometimes I feel like God just needs to tear me all down and build me back up again. And lately I’ve had a hard time loving my paint chips, my withered creaks.

But CS Lewis also said that if we knew of our potential, we would understand that we are all possible gods and goddesses. And one day I want to walk into my house, or look at who I am, and gasp at all that I am. I think Heaven will be like that. I think our Father will grab our hands and say, “My dear Talor! Look at you.” And we will all fall to our knees when we see what we are really capable of, how majestic and beautiful we really are. We will see the beauty of those paint chips and withered floors. Because those are the things that make us who we are.

I am a daughter of a King. A King. A Father that loves the pieces out of my quirks, my flaws, and my chipped blue paint.

I will get there one day.

I will love myself as much as He loves me.

I think I owe that to Him.

Love always//talor.

they don't teach you to write letters to yourself;

My whole life I have written letters to people.
The second I learned how to fill out an envelope and put a stamp on it, I sent letters.
I had a pen pal once.
I wrote to my best friend when she moved in elementary (no cell phones for children back then).
I wrote my friend who disappeared to her dad's in the summers.
I wrote to my friends that served LDS missions.
I wrote to one of my dearest friends when she was finding herself in Washington.
And I wrote letters to God when I was losing myself.

I write letters to my fiance.
And I've started to write letters to myself.

What? I know. That probably sounds a little crazy. Almost like when people talk out loud to themselves in the grocery store and everyone gives them a weird look.

But I have always been one that's bad at journaling.
I'll be good for like a whole week, or maybe a whole summer, and then I just get so tired of repeating everything I've done!

And writing letters to yourself is kind of like writing a journal.

I write letters to my future self, my past self, or my present self. To help me to remember to be kind to myself, to have patience, and to be happy.

So I think this blog will be officially that.

Just letters written by a 21 year old girl to herself.

P.S.

the happiest of happy

For some reason it's been so hard for me to write a blog post lately.
Almost every night I sit and stare at the computer screen for ten minutes and then decide to put it away. Because there has been so much going on and I can't always find the words to comprehend how I'm feeling.

Because one day I'm getting excited about summer semester and the next second I find out that my student loans have been denied without any warning. (FYI college and government loans are shiz sometimes and there is a bunch of illegal stuff you shouldn't do THAT THEY DON'T WARN YOU ABOUT.) Idiots.

And then the next second, I'm going to summer semester and everything is okay.

And then we realize that we can't pay for a New York honeymoon because we are paying for summer semester. And I'm devastated all over again.

And the next second we're at Lagoon and we think: why not Disneyland for a honeymoon?
Because who doesn't love Disneyland?  IT'S THE HAPPIEST PLACE ON EARTH. If you don't love it, you're just as bad as my student loans and college.
Sorry not sorry. 

Sorry not sorry for using a cliche term.


And now we've decided to go to New York when we are both finished with school as a graduation present.
Because what's better than a New York graduation present? Nothing.





And sometimes I change my major a bunch of times (from teaching to criminal justice to political science) to finally land on something that was sitting in my childhood all along.

And now I'm content.

Although I've used "And" to start almost all of my sentences and it's making me want to gag a little.

Oh, there you are.

OKAY so I have been inspired from a lot of things this week. But last night I was reading a girl's instagram posts--Rachel Brathen aka yoga_girl. She experienced her best friend's death a few weeks ago (I cannot even imagine) and I stumbled upon this post which made me cry endlessly.

"You are gone but you are not. I have taught only two classes since you passed away and Savasana is almost unbearable. Your presence has been so strong. At the end of Saturday's class I had everyone put their hands to their hearts and as I walked around giving small adjustments, I realized...you are in every single person here in this room. I adjusted a girl's shoulders, she has a wooden earring in one of her ears. Just like you. Another girl has a dread, just one, nestled in her messy hair. Just like you. One person is smiling, just like you. Someone has toes that remind me of yours. A mat the same color as the one you always had in your bedroom. "Look!" you told me one day. "I bought a good yoga mat! Finally!" I looked at it and laughed, "no, you didn't honey. This is a crappy mat. You'll slip!" You frowned: "But it was $20!" When I told you a good mat will cost you at least $50 you looked at me like I was joking. "$50 for a yoga mat??? Tss. You super yogis are so picky. I'll use this one forever and it will be good you'll see." And you did. It's broken and dirty and smells a little bit like mold but you used that thing everyday. And I held it in my arms all the way from San Jose to Aruba but I still haven't rolled it out at home. I can't. It's leaning against the altar I made you, waiting for a time when I'll be able to think of these things and still stay sane but I'm not sure that time will ever come. But in that Savasana two days ago I saw you in every person in that room. And for every person I touched I felt you even more and at one point I felt my tears drip onto the girl beneath me and she grabbed my hand. She looked me straight in the eye and said "it's okay" and I knew right then: that was you, too. She came up to me after class with tears in her eyes. "I lost my husband, I am where you are." And I am understanding now more and more that we are all the same. We are all sisters. We're in this together. If you are in everyone that means you are in me also and that means you never really left. It's the only comfort I have and it's beautiful."

If that doesn't just make you weep, I don't know what will.

Throughout my life I have seen death come. Sometimes quickly, unannounced, other times slowly and patiently. But it comes.



It's hard and painful and that's all I'm going to say.




But then, days or months or years pass, and you begin to see things.
 
I can randomly take a breath of air and smell the same bush that was in my grandparent's yard. I can smell my grandmother's perfume she wore, and I will always be able to hear her laugh in my sister's laugh. And sometimes, I will randomly hear my uncle's voice say, "Talor," as he did when I was little--like when he was about to tell me to play a prank on my mom. And I will never forget my grandpa's voice when he would tell me I'm beautiful. I will always be able to feel his light hugs and my grandma's nimble fingers on my face.

And that knowledge is peaceful and full of love and spirit and connectedness.
I realize now more than ever that we are never alone. Not ever.

Because we are all human. We are all connected, and we really are in this together.


 They haven't really left.





 In fact, they've been in your heart all along,

and they will stay there.

A Letter to Myself

 Dear Me,

I cannot expect my body to be overly muscley, stick thin, or perfectly perfect. Why should it be? Will it make more people love me? No. Will it really make me happier? Probably not. Does it really matter? Not in the long run.

The women I look up to, who I inspire to be, I inspire to be not for their thigh gap, their toned arms, or their perfect body. I look up to them for their determination, their strength, their ability to love and to laugh and to be courageous. There is no correlation between thigh gaps and courage. So I should stop treating it as though it will give me such.

The man I want to love me for eternity will not love me more for having perfectly shaped legs or a perfectly flat stomach. Because eternal love is unconditional love, and he will love me when I work out and he will love me when I gain 5 pounds. Why? Because a flat stomach doesn't give me love and respect. Because a thigh gap doesn't tell you how lovely my personality is. Because there is no correlation between love and perfect curves. So I will stop treating it as though it will give me such.

 And how sad that I should be so harsh on my own body? The body that wakes me in the morning and puts me to rest at night.
The body that cradles my soul.

So, instead of striving towards a thigh gap, or for sleek arms, or a flat six pack, I will wish for other things.

I will wish to always have legs that can carry me up into the mountains and back down to my home. I will wish for lungs that make it so I can laugh for hours and run for miles. I will wish for arms that hug perfectly and cradle little souls. I will wish for a backbone that stands straight and firm. I will wish for hands that can always paint and inspire.

Because those things create love, laughter, determination, strength and courage.

Breathe.




I deserve love--whether I'm perfect or not.
(repeatx10000)

I love you.

Love, Me

Snow in April.

Sometimes you just hate school and homework so much that you need a pep talk from Abraham Lincoln. 

And sometimes you want everything to work out and have overnight success so badly that you just look at Pinterest all morning.  

And then it starts snowing so you just want summer. 

(Note to self: it's okay to cry.) 

But you have to move on and live in the present. And understand that things take time, but everything ends up happening and disappearing in a blink of an eye, so just love where you're at and breathe. 

i n n e r strength.

okay, so i think we all have short term and long term goals, right? as a woman, i think it's in our nature to make a goal out of everything. whether it's about school, religion, sports, fashion, etc., we always want to better ourselves (or be better than the person next to us--yikes). which can be beneficial or really bad. highly unrealistic goals are how depression, stress, and anxiety form--but when it's a realistic goal, great things can happen. but sometimes, it's nice to just--do things without any analysis.

today i accomplished a goal i didn't even know i had. and it was unexpected and great and made me feel super good about myself. which brings me to my point--i think we don't understand all of our strengths. i think we only see a very very very small percentage of our greatness. and maybe that's because of society, or personal reasons--but whatever it is, i think it's a great thing to get rid of all that we think we know about ourselves, and just embrace that we don't know everything and run into oblivion with open arms. i think when we do that, something really really great could happen--we could learn more of what god knows we are capable and less of what we think we are.

n o r t h b o u n d

So, something exciting: I'm selling candles. I know, I know. How is that exciting? Candles? How random! Well little kittens, let me tell you a story. Yes, I did just call you that.

Back in January, I made a very important promise to myself that I would be braver, that I would dive back into the arts, and that I would try my hardest to make my talents grow. 

Over the past few months, certain things have fallen apart to make way for certain things to blossom together. All of a sudden, I wasn't getting married in April, I had a small class load, and I wasn't working as much. So I stuck to my promises, and out of that came new hobbies...and brainstorming, and doodles, and....this was the result. 

So....that's something, right?

For now, I have opened an etsy shop. https://www.etsy.com/shop/NorthboundCandles

And soon my talented fiancé will have finished the website. 

Cheers to talents and candles and a whole lot of support! 

Week One.

I just finished the first week of 100 Happy Days. 

Day 1. This little lion has my heart. 

Fiancé+cat=pure joy. 

Sometimes happiness comes in a jar...

And other times it's in the trees. 

If you haven't read Maurice Sendak's "My Brother's Book," you haven't seen enough beauty or shed enough tears. 

"'Just lost--when I am saved!' Jack sighed. And in his arms, as branches will, Wound round his noble-hearted brother. Who he loves more than his own self. And Jack slept safe, Enfolded in his brother's arms. And Guy whispered, 'Good night And you will dream of me.'" 

Happiness is a sleeping baby. 

Learning a new hobby. 

h a p p i n e s s

Today I'm talking about happiness.

I tend to go through motions of emotions (that sentence sounds weird). Like I have one really good week, where I'm really happy. And I have one week where I'm kind of sad. And another week where I'm stressed, or anxious. And it seems like I'm never truly happy--just happy--for more than a week out of a month. And I'm not talking about the kind of "happy" that we have grown accustom to, where we have a pretty good day so we are content, or we have a day where nothing bad happens, so that must be a happy day. I'm talking about the happy where everything is absolutely perfect and life is so good and nothing could ever go wrong and in your mind you are skipping through a field of daisies. 

And I think we rarely see these days because we are so focused on other things--that thesis that needs to be written, that six hour shift you have to get through, that doctor appointment you have to go to, etc etc etc. it seems to be that if we have one event in the day that we don't want to face, it becomes a bad or "normal" day--the type of days that consume most of the month. And maybe none of you can relate to this and I just have some emotional disorder, but I think a lot of people focus on the negatives throughout the day. And as much as I hate to admit it, I fall into that category a lot of the time. 

How does this happen? Attitude, perspective, and complaint. Today is a perfect example for me. I have to take a dreaded math test. If you don't know, I have the math brain of a junior high kid. I cannot, and do not want to, grasp the concept of math and it's importance in my life. 

So, I woke up with a negative attitude. Literally the first thought I had today was, "Oh no, I have math." And how sad is that? I didn't even notice the sun shining through my window or the birds chirping. And I of course have a terrible perspective about math. Math is the class that I tend to skip because it is hell to sit through and learning math won't do any good for me (I know, I know, it will). But you get the gist. I hate math so much that it ruins my day. And not just Thursdays, it ruins half of my Wednesdays because I sit dreading the next day. And lastly, I complain. Holy cow I complain like no other about math. Thursdays are the day that in my mind, the fields of daisies become fields of fire. 

And I'm sure my happiness would increase so much if I stopped dwelling on the negativity of math and just accepted it as part of my day. And I would probably see my self esteem rise on Thursdays if I stopped seeing myself as "stupid" when it came to math. And I'm positive that Thursdays wouldn't be so bad if I woke up listing the positives throughout the day, instead of the negatives--and maybe, just maybe, Thursdays could be a day of happiness for me. 

So that's my goal from now on: to stop having a bad attitude about things I don't want to do, to better my perspective and list the positives that will come from the things I don't want to do, and to stop complaining about the things I don't want to do. 

This will probably be really hard for me at first, and maybe it will always be hard for me, but I'm almost certain that having a positive attitude can become a habit. And I will make it a habit. 

And maybe it won't be as hard if my fiancé keeps up those cat pictures. :) 

Also, I'm doing the 100 happy days challenge via Instagram. 

Want to learn more about it? http://100happydays.com

Do it. 

Women.

To celebrate women and all of their greatness, I've composed a list of five (out of many) reasons why women are so amazing. Let the clapping begin!

1. Let's go back to the days before anesthesia and epidurals. Did you know that women actually gave birth without any pain medication (not to mention, without a hospital to rest in)? Like they didn't have a choice. They just did it and had babies and conquered motherhood. Uh, what? I'm pretty sure that makes women the stronger gender. And I will believe it until I see a man give birth in the forest without pain meds (too much?) 

2. Defeating the age of oppression. From our history classes, I think we can all admit that there were way more male heroes mentioned than females. Why is this? Not because men are more hereoic than women, but because women were severely oppressed (and still oppressed in a lot of countries). I took a women's history class last semester and discovered that women did a lot of GREAT things but a lot of it went unnoticed because they weren't seen as great, powerful, or independent. But guess what? Women took a stand and they marched and fought and argued until they were given the same rights men have always been entitled to. Our ancestors were given nothing and fought for everything. They were warriors. We are warriors by blood. Awesome, right? Right. 

3. One word: fashion. 

We know how to look good and kick a**. A lot of men only know how to do one of those things. 

 Zooey Deschanel says it all. “Here’s the thing about being a girlie girl. I think there was a generation before us that felt like they needed to act like men to be taken seriously, like they had to use their sexuality to take control of people. I don’t judge people for that. But I don’t want to take all my clothes off and use myself as an object. It’s part of the machine and I don’t think that necessarily pushes us forward as women. I think you can still be girlie and maintain your power. The fact that you associate being girlie with being non-threatening, that is … I mean, I can’t think of more blatant example of playing into exactly the thing that we’re trying to fight against. I can’t be girlie? Why do I need to be defined aesthetically by someone else’s perceptions of what makes me seem like someone who should be taken seriously? I’m going to wear whatever I want to wear, because I’m expressing myself, and I deserve that right. And I like the way that looks. You’re not demeaning yourself by acting girlie. I think the fact that people are associating being girlie with weakness, that needs to be examined. Not me dressing girlie. I don’t think that undermines my power at all."

4. Women in politics. For example, Hilary Clinton. Before I start, let me say this: you don't have to like her or what she believes in (or her husband, am I right? Kidding, kidding), but as a woman, you should respect her progressive lead into equality in the political sphere. I mean, come on. She's the first American woman to run for president. She's been discriminated, mocked, and objectified by congressmen, senators, idiotic journalists and sadly, women. You can hate her actions and beliefs, but shut up and applaud her for stepping up. 

Also, lets stop judging her hair/wardrobe. She's dealing with a lot bigger issues than what color she looks best in. 

Unfortunately, women are still out numbered in politics, but they continue breaking down stereotypes, traditional views, and old political ideals. And can you imagine how hard that would be? Your environment consists of a lot of older white males who still largely believe that men should be in charge of government. So, congrats to any woman who is willing to fight her way through that.

5. Lastly, I'm going to bring up something that's always brought up in the work sphere, and tends to be true. A man can be tough or "mean" and is seen as masculine, but if a woman does the same, she's deemed a B word. Not okay, but that's life. And guess what? Women just shake that stereotype right off their shoulders and continue being their awesome fierce self's because they're women and they are full of class and sass. 

Also, look at our ever-progressing society. Our ancestors are probably so proud to see that women are in the working sphere. Not only that, but taking on what were once believed to be masculine jobs. 

So today, don't forget to celebrate your ancestors, your inspirations, and yourselves. Remember all that you're capable of and remember: you are a warrior by blood. 

The Best of Parks and Rec Season 6

Because sometimes you just need to scroll through a bunch of hilarity. 

I have been tense lately. Just thinking about the new star wars sequel. I’m worried they’ll rely too heavily on CGI and I’m carrying it all in my shoulders. -Ben

Veganism is the sad result of a morally corrupt mind. Reconsider your life. -Ron

Dear frozen yogurt, you are the celery of desserts. Be ice cream or be nothing. -Ron

The bride wore a gown made by her friend Ann Perkins and the groom wore a butt so perfect it could make an angel hang himself. -Leslie 

Holy mother of Malia! And Sasha! I love them both equally -Leslie 

Why did it take me so long to realize this? There are no consequences to my actions anymore! No matter what I do nothing bad can happen to me. I am like a white male U.S. senator. -Leslie

Ann, you poetic and noble land mermaid. -Leslie 

I will leave my children $50 a piece. Enough for the cab ride home from the funeral and a steak dinner. End of discussion. -Ron

Things are exactly the same as they were in 1817. Except women and minorities can vote, we have indoor toilets, and they don't burn widows for learning arithmetic. -Leslie

Do you hear that galloping? What? Oh my- look at that. Joe Biden on a horse. Shirtless. That’s amazing. -Ann

Look, if Ann wants to leave Pawnee I get it. Who wants to stay in the greatest town in the world with her best friend and be happy forever when she can abandon her soul sister like an old shoe and move to a garbage city full of jerks? I get it. No hard feelings. --Leslie 

Donna: “Yeah. Is there – and I’m just guessing here – some kind of medication that you maybe need a lot of and have taken none of or maybe too much of today?”
Craig: “Oh I have a medical condition all right. It’s called caring too much. And it’s incurable. Also I have Eczema.”

Ron: History began on July 4, 1776. Everything that happened before that was a mistake.

Craig: Larry I swear to God if you leave right now I will make your spirit dog a miniature Schnauzer.

Andy: Look, Hogwarts.

Ben: No, that's Buckingham Palace. Hogwarts is fictional. You do know that, don't you? It's important to me that you know that.

Dean + Talor; m e e t i n g

So I know this will probably be one of the cheesiest blog posts I ever write but I don't care.
Yesterday I was reading this blog and oh my gosh cute cute cute story. And it got me thinking about me and Dean and how we met and everything. So I'm going to share it with you. 

I met Dean officially a few days after New Years of 2013. It just so happened that I worked with his mom and his sister (aka my newest best friend Savaughn). One day he walked into work to take his mom out to dinner and I thought he was SO cute. I remember thinking he had perfect hair and the prettiest eyes. I told Savaughn later that night I thought he was cute and of course she immediately went to her phone and told him. So he got my number and we talked for a few days before I actually officially met him. 

He came and visited Savaughn and I while we were working one night. I only remember three things about him and that night: for some reason I went home convinced I was taller than him (I think I have a complex), he carried a gun, and he had a really good handshake. Depending on who you are, you may or may not know this but my first impressions of people are solely based off of their handshake--I don't know why. He got an A+. 

And then he called me the next day and asked me on my last first date I will ever have. 

Best first date of my life. We went and saw The Hobbit, ate sushi and went bowling (I beat him.) We had so much fun together and it wasn't really awkward at all. And then we continued to hang out and date. I had a night class twice a week and we would go eat ice cream or watch the Walking Dead (our first kiss? We were watching the Walking Dead. Romantic, right?) I just remember how cute and nerdy I thought he was when he'd go off on tangents about the zombie apocalypse and AR-15s. 

But we were friends before we really started our relationship. It took us like a month to hold hands, three months for our last first kiss, and like five months to officially become boyfriend and girlfriend. But that's why it was perfect. By the time I loved him, he was my best friend. I literally fell in love with my best friend. 

And I continue to fall in love with him every single day.