I love his face. I love his smile. His smile always makes me smile too. I love the way his eyes sparkle whenever he thinks of something mischievous to do or to say. I love his hair, though not to soft from too much gel and crazy hair products, I love running my fingers through each short tendril. I love how his hair smells so damn good as if he just took a bath. I love how he looks like he's just woken up from some bizarre party and is still stoned. He either looks like he's too giddy from hallucinogens or that he's just woken up and has a terrible hangover. I love the way he looks at me as if he's forever teasing me for being me. As if he knows what I'm thinking and what I'm about to do.
I love his hands, those hands I know so well. I love his scent, the way I could still smell him even when he's already miles away from me. I love the way he looks stupid and awkward, with his tall, lanky frame and his poor posture. I love the way his clothes hang onto him like they were made to be worn by someone as thin as he is. I love his voice that always reassures me everything is going to be alright.
I love his unpredictable mood swings. Sometimes he's too jolly and too hyper and so everywhere. And sometimes he's locked himself up in a place only he could go to. I love his generosity and carefree attitude about life. I could safely say I learned to be less inhibited because of him. I love the way he scolds me about being a commitment-phobe when he isn't aware that he's the biggest commitment-phobic I know. I love how he thinks everything would fall into place even if they don't. I love his passion for things I don't understand. I love the way he loves the people around him, how he gives them importance and warmth. I love the way he loves his car, oh God, how could I begin to explain how much he loves his car? I love how he thinks of himself as a nobody, when in fact, he's pretty much popular and well-liked. I love how he takes his responsibilities seriously, how he manages to be a good friend, a good son and a good person all at the same time.
I love the way he gets mad at me for petty things. How he gets jealous of other people that he thinks 'might take me away' from him. I love the way he tells me how I'm the pinaka-stupid person he knows, when we both know [and without bragging] that I'm helluva lot smarter than him when it comes to academics. I love how he frowned upon knowing I discovered the joys of DJMix and the fact that he scolded me for an eternity when he found out. I love the way he lets me scream at him all I want and he never gets mad. I love how he tells me to stop drinking when he himself is a walking beer keg. I love the fact that he calls at unholy hours of the day, each day just to make sure I'm still alive. I love how he used to drop by any time of the day or of the night.. or come to think of it, any time at all, just to say hi and make me coffee because I'm too stupid to make one for myself. I still love the fact that he attempts to come over even if he's no longer allowed to.
I love the fact that we could sit beside each other or lie down together and not say anything but understand everything.
I love a lot more things about him. I love him for what he is and what he's not.
He is everything.
Oh, yes...
He is everything....
....but mine.
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