Dear future me,
I hope you're still with him. More importantly, I hope that you still love him. I hope that, even after all this time, he still wakes you up with cuddles and kisses. I hope that he still makes you laugh so hard your stomach hurts and you feel like your ribs will crack. I hope that he still calls you silly names, that he still wraps his arms around you from behind, that he still lifts you up onto the kitchen counter, that he still holds your hand and kisses you on the London escalators. I hope that he still tells you that you're beautiful first thing in the morning as well as at night when you're all dolled up. I hope that he still tells you what you mean to him and I hope that he still randomly surprises you just to see you smile. I hope that he still reminds you how far you've come and how proud of you he is. I hope he still makes you feel like the most special girl in the entire world.
I hope that you still love him. I hope that you still run your hands through his hair and tell him that you do. I hope that you still see your future when you look into his big green eyes. I hope that you still run to throw your arms around him when he gets home from work. I hope you still text each other minutes after having said goodbye, that you still take the piss out of each other 24/7, that you still have the best make-up sex after an argument. I hope that you still love each other's families and that they in turn, love you back. I hope that you still enjoy the quiet nights in with a home-cooked meal and a film as much as the ones where you go out and get smashed and order pizza and fall asleep before it arrives. I hope that you still have date night and Saturday morning breakfast. I hope that you still meet each other outside work. I hope you still feel like it's the two of you against the world.
I hope you haven't forgotten the times he sat beside your hospital bed until the nurses kicked him out, the times he left work early to come and walk you home after a panic attack, the times he let you cry yourself to sleep on his shoulder regardless of the snot and tears, the times he picked up the pieces of your broken soul. I hope he hasn't forgotten the times you gave up your days off to run around after him, the times you left cute notes on the bed, the times you made him breakfast in bed, the times you saved his day after work threatened to ruin it, the times you went out with his friends or family when all you felt like doing is curling up in a ball and hide from the world. I hope you've forgiven each other for your mistakes and for your pasts. I hope you've learned from them and that the door slamming, the storming off, the sleepless nights and the rivers of tears were worth it. I hope that you still both love passionately and with reckless abandon, as if you'll never love again.
Dear future self, I lied. I don't hope for any of this. I don't need to hope, because I know that it is true. And if it isn't, if you have let him go; I hope you know that you have made the biggest mistake of your entire life.
Dear future me,