I don't just want the version of you that the world praises. Not just the confident smile, the quick wit, or the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love. I want the version of you that's tired after a long day, who overthinks one message for an hour, who replays the same sentence wondering if it came out wrong. I want the girl who cancels plans because her heart feels heavy, who hides her tears behind "I'm fine," who second-guesses herself even when she shouldn't have to. I want the version of you in soft pajamas, hair messy, face bare, curled up next to me like I'm the only safe place she knows. I want the midnight rambles, the sleepy smiles, the way your hand finds mine without thinking. I want the way you fall asleep mid-sentence, the way you laugh with your whole soul, the way you care so deeply it hurts sometimes. I want your bad days and your beautiful chaos. Your moods, your doubts, your tenderness, your strength. And if you ever forget how much you matter, I'll hold your face in my hands and remind you: you are everything to me. You don't have to be perfect with me. You don't have to have it all together. Just be you. Just come as you are. And I will be here; loving every version of you, more and more, without needing a reason.