I don’t know when you put these up, although I can probably guess.

You probably did it after we’d gone to bed, some time after the roughly sixty-seconds it had taken me to fall asleep. Although hopefully not after I’d started snoring- I hate to think it happened that way; you writing me these lovely little post-its while I was in there, noisily ZZZZZZZZZ-ing.

But you did them at the same desk where I’m sitting now (the markers you used are still sitting here on it in front of me), at whatever hour of the night, using that fitful time to do something nice for me.

I don’t deserve you…

I hate to admit this to you, my Love, but I didn’t see them at first. The way I don’t see so damned many things at first: about you, about me, about us, about the world around me and how I affect it. I’d gotten up stupid-early again, and gone in to use the toilet. I’d sat down with “…Dragon Tattoo”, gone… you know, then done some reading- you know the drill.

But it wasn’t until I’d finally faced the sink and begun to dutifully wash my hands that I saw them.

And that’s when I stopped. And when I thought-

I don’t deserve you.

You, or the simple acts of kindness that you perform, or the simple acts of love, or your faith in me, or your willingness to tell me to JUST STOP IT. Or, most importantly, that time when you told me to JUST DO IT, after the twelve-plus years of my prior-life’s bullshit had finally become enough and you told me it was okay to change. Okay to take a chance. And you gave me that freedom.

All those things you do, on a daily basis, that mean so much more than anything I could ever sum up in one little St. Valentine’s Day, or put in a greeting card- or even put on a bathroom mirror. Not with sixty-four little notes, or with sixty-four thousand.

I don’t deserve you…

But know that I do Love You.

And Thank you.


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