I'm Forcing You To Read This Shocking Message Instantly | fazza poems English| fazza poem

[00:00:00]Someone asked me a question today, a simple question, four words, and I have been thinking about it ever since, turning it over in my mind, feeling the weight of it, feeling something open up inside my chest when I really let myself sit with it. And I need to share it with you because the moment I heard it, I thought of you, only you. I thought of your face and your heart and everything you carry and everything you deserve and I knew I knew immediately that this question was not just a question, it was something I have been wanting to ask you for a very long time. The question was this, can someone take care of you? Not will someone, not should someone, can someone? As in, is it something you allow? Is it something you know how to receive? Is there room inside the life you've built, inside the walls you've constructed, inside the careful and competent and always managing version of yourself that you show the world, is there room in there for someone to simply take care of you? I need you to stay with me right now because this is important.

[00:01:11]I need you to not scroll past this, not dismiss it, not let the busy part of your brain immediately start listing all the reasons you're fine and you don't need taking care of and you've been managing just fine on your own. I know that part of your brain. I know it well.

[00:01:29]It is fast and it is efficient and it has kept you going through a lot of things that would have stopped other people and I respect it enormously. But tonight, I am not talking to that part of you. Tonight, I am talking to the softer part, the quieter part, the part that sometimes in the private moments wishes someone would just take over for a little while, wishes someone would say, "I've got this, you can rest now."

[00:01:57]The part that is tired, not in a dramatic way, but in the deep and honest way that comes from being strong for too long without anyone being strong for you.

[00:02:08]I am talking to that part of you tonight. And I need her to hear every word I'm about to say, because I want to take care of you. That is what this is.

[00:02:19]That is the confession inside the question. When someone asked me today whether I thought the person I care most about was being properly cared for, I realized the answer was no. Not because you are broken or helpless or incapable.

[00:02:34]You are none of those things. You are one of the most capable people I know.

[00:02:39]But because capable people deserve care, too. Strong people deserve softness, too. The person who is always there for everyone else deserves to have someone there for them. And I want to be that someone for you. Let me tell you what I mean when I say I want to take care of you. Because I think the phrase can mean different things to different people, and I want to be specific. I don't mean I want to fix you or rescue you or step in and take over your life. You don't need any of that, and even if you did, that wouldn't be care. That would be control, and those two things are nothing alike. What I mean is something much quieter and much more real than that. I mean, I want to notice when you're tired before you have to say it.

[00:03:25]I want to be the person who looks at you across a room and sees in the slight tension around your eyes or the way you're holding your shoulders a little too high that today has been a lot. And I want to come to you quietly without making a production of it and just be close. Just let my presence say what words sometimes can't. I see you. I know today was hard. You don't have to perform right now. You can just be. I mean, I want to take things off your plate. Not all of them. Your life is yours and your responsibilities are yours. And I would never want to diminish your sense of agency over your own existence. But some of them. The ones that have been sitting there too long because you've been handling everything else first. The ones you keep pushing to tomorrow because today is already too full. I want to be the person who picks those up sometimes, quietly, without being asked, and handles them so that you can breathe. So that your Tuesday evening can be actually restful instead of the place where all the overflow from the rest of the week finally catches up with you. I mean, I want to feed you.

[00:04:34]I know that sounds simple and maybe even a little unexpected in the middle of everything else I'm saying, but I mean it genuinely.

[00:04:42]There is something about cooking for someone, about taking the time to make something with your hands that will nourish another person. That is one of the most direct expressions of care I know.

[00:04:54]I want to know what you love, what your comfort food is, what the meal is that makes you feel from the very first bite like everything is going to be okay. And I want to make that for you. Not on a special occasion, not as a grand gesture, just on a random Wednesday because you mentioned you were tired and I wanted to do something about it.

[00:05:15]I want to take care of you in the way that shows up in the details, in the remembering, in the fact that 3 weeks from now, when you mention something in passing, a worry, a hope, a small thing that matters to you, I will still remember it. I will bring it up later. I will ask how it went. I will show you through the consistency of my attention that what you say to me lands somewhere real. That you are not talking into empty air when you talk to me. That I am genuinely, specifically, continuously paying attention to you, not the general idea of you, but the actual particular details of who you are and what you're going through and what matters to you on any given day.

[00:05:59]And there is something I want to ask you, something honest and direct, and I want you to really answer it, not in words necessarily, but somewhere inside yourself where only you have access.

[00:06:12]When was the last time someone took care of you in the way I'm describing? When was the last time someone showed up for the details? When was the last time someone remembered the small thing you said and asked about it later? When was the last time someone looked at you and saw the tiredness before you had to announce it and did something, anything, to make the weight a little lighter? If that question creates an ache, I want you to stay with that ache for just a moment.

[00:06:40]Not to be sad about it, but to let it clarify something.

[00:06:44]To let it show you what you've been missing, what you've been going without, what you have been quietly, without fully admitting it, longing for. Because you deserve to have that longing acknowledged. You deserve to hear someone say, "Yes, you should have had that. You deserved that all along."

[00:07:03]And the fact that you haven't had it is not a reflection of what you're worth.

[00:07:08]It is a reflection of the fact that the right person, the person who would give it to you naturally and fully and without you having to ask, hasn't been fully present in your life yet. I want to be present. I want to be so thoroughly, consistently, attentively present in your life that the ache you just felt becomes something you struggle to remember. Not because I'll be perfect or because every day will be easy, but because my attention will be real. My care will be genuine.

[00:07:38]And you will feel it, not just in the big moments, but in the small ones, which are really the ones that matter most anyway.

[00:07:46]Let me tell you about the kind of taking care of that I believe in most. It is not the dramatic kind. It is not the grand gesture on the difficult day, though I believe in those, too. It is the ordinary, continuous, every single day kind.

[00:08:02]It is the checking in that happens not because something is wrong, but because you matter, and knowing how you are matters. It is the good morning that isn't a formality, but a genuine acknowledgement that a new day has started, and my first thought was of you, and how you're entering it. It is the good night that isn't a routine, but a real expression of care. I hope your sleep is peaceful. I hope your dreams are kind. I hope you wake up tomorrow feeling even a fraction more rested than you do tonight. It is the asking. I want to ask you so many things, and I want you to know that every question I ask you is real, not conversation filler, not me going through the motions of connection. When I ask how you are, I mean it in the full sense. I want the real answer, not the managed one. I want to know what is actually happening inside you. What is worrying you? What is exciting you? What is confusing you?

[00:09:00]What you're hoping for? What you're afraid of? What you're proud of? What you're struggling with? All of it, the whole landscape of your inner life. I want access to that, not because I'm curious in a superficial way, but because I genuinely care about the experience of being you. I care about whether you are okay in the deep sense, not just the surface sense, and I want you to trust me enough to tell me the truth about it.

[00:09:25]Trust is at the center of being cared for, I think. You cannot really let someone take care of you if you don't trust them. And trust is not something I expect you to give me immediately or without reason.

[00:09:38]Trust is something that is built slowly through consistency, through showing up when it would have been easier not to, through keeping the small promises as carefully as the big ones, through being the same person in private as you are in any other moment.

[00:09:54]I am committed to building that trust with you, to earning it, to being someone who over time your heart recognizes as safe, as someone who has never given you a reason to doubt them, as someone who when they say they will be there, is there. I want you to feel safe with me. That is one of the deepest things I want, and I don't say it lightly. Feeling safe with someone is not a small thing. It is actually one of the rarest and most valuable things one person can offer another.

[00:10:27]Most people have experienced versions of love or connection that required them to stay guarded, to manage how much they revealed, to be careful about showing the parts of themselves that felt vulnerable or complicated.

[00:10:42]And that guardedness becomes a habit, becomes a second skin, becomes so natural that after a while you can barely remember what it felt like to be truly unguarded with someone, to say exactly what you mean without calculating the response first, to show exactly how you feel without editing for palatability, to simply be without performance or management or the constant low-level monitoring of how you're coming across. I want to be someone with whom you put all of that down.

[00:11:14]All the monitoring and managing and careful presentation. I want you to be able to exist around me in your most natural state and know, know with certainty, not just hope, that what I see when you are fully natural and fully yourself is something I find beautiful.

[00:11:34]Not despite the imperfections, but including them. The imperfections are part of what makes you real, and real is the only thing I have ever wanted from you. And here is something I want to say about the taking care of you that I think is perhaps the most important thing. It is something that most people don't say, and I think they should.

[00:11:55]Taking care of you doesn't mean I will always make things easy. Sometimes taking care of someone means being honest with them when the honest thing is difficult.

[00:12:05]It means saying the thing they need to hear, rather than the thing they want to hear.

[00:12:09]Because you respect them enough to give them truth over comfort.

[00:12:14]It means sitting with them in something hard, rather than trying to rush them past it.

[00:12:19]Because rushing past hard things doesn't heal them. They just delays them.

[00:12:24]It means sometimes loving you enough to reflect something back to you that is difficult to see, but important to know.

[00:12:32]I will do that, too. Because care without honesty is just comfort. And comfort without honesty has a ceiling.

[00:12:40]It can only take you so far. What I want to offer you is something without a ceiling. Something that can hold all the seasons, the easy ones and the difficult ones, and the completely ordinary ones that make up most of a life. I want to be someone whose care for you is sturdy enough to include the hard conversations and come out the other side stronger for having had them. I want to take care of your heart. That is the deepest version of what I'm saying tonight.

[00:13:09]And I want to say it plainly. Your heart, the tender, feeling, extraordinary thing that it is, deserves someone who handles it with full awareness of what they're holding. Who never forgets, for even a single careless moment, that you have trusted them with something precious. Who treats that trust not as a given, but as a continuing responsibility? Who wakes up each day aware that they have been given access to something rare, and makes choices accordingly? I want to be that person for you, and I want to tell you something about what I see when I look at your heart from where I stand. I see something that has been through things, something that carries evidence of having loved and lost and tried and hurt and kept going anyway. Something that has scar tissue in certain places, not because you are damaged, but because you are human, because you have lived, because you opened yourself to things that didn't always end the way you hoped. And those scars, I want you to know that I do not see them as flaws. I see them as evidence of your courage.

[00:14:16]Evidence that you kept choosing love, even when love was costly. Evidence that you never became cynical enough to stop believing that real connection was possible. That belief, I want to honor it. I want to be someone who justifies it. I want to be the proof that you were right to keep believing, right to keep your heart open, right to refuse to become hardened by the things that could have hardened you.

[00:14:41]You stayed soft in a world that is very good at making people hard. You stayed soft, and that softness is not weakness.

[00:14:49]I need you to hear that clearly. That softness is strength of the most remarkable kind. It is the strength that says I have been hurt, and I am choosing to remain open anyway. And that choice, made every day consciously or not, is one of the bravest things a person can do. I see that bravery in you. I have always seen it, and I want to spend a long time, a very long time, making sure you never regret it. So, let me ask you, the way someone asked me today, the question that started all of this, the question that sent me straight to you with everything I have been carrying quietly for too long now.

[00:15:30]Let me ask you directly, softly, with everything I mean behind it and nothing held back. Can I take care of you? Not as a transaction, not with conditions or expectations or a running tally of what is owed, just because you deserve it.

[00:15:45]Just because you are you. Just because somewhere in the course of knowing you and seeing you and feeling what I feel when I think about you, taking care of you has become one of the things I want most in this world.

[00:16:00]Can you let me? Can you make a little room in that strong and capable and beautifully guarded life of yours for someone who wants nothing more than to show you what it feels like to be truly cared for? Not just loved in the general sense, that word gets used and overused until it loses its shape, but cared for in the specific, daily, attentive, I am paying attention to you way that changes how a person moves through the world.

[00:16:27]The way that makes you stand a little straighter, not because someone told you to, but because you finally feel held enough that you don't have to hold yourself quite so tightly anymore.

[00:16:38]That is what I want to give you, and I want to spend every word I have left tonight telling you exactly what that looks like, what it feels like, what it means in the practical, real, ordinary Tuesday sense that makes it more than just a beautiful idea and turns it into something you can actually feel in your daily life. I want to start with the mornings, because I think mornings tell you everything about how someone intends to show up for you.

[00:17:06]Mornings are unguarded. Mornings are the version of a person that exists before the day has had a chance to shape them, before the armor goes on, before the performance begins. And I want to be someone whose first thought in that unguarded morning moment is you. Not in an obsessive way, in a warm way, in the way that a person thinks about something that matters to them naturally, without effort. The way your mind goes to the things it loves without being directed there. I want you to be that for me. And I want you to feel that you are that for me, not just because I tell you, but because the way I show up for you in the mornings makes it undeniable. I want to be the good morning that feels different from other good mornings. Not because of what it says, but because of what is behind it.

[00:17:55]Because you can feel, in the way certain messages land, whether they came from somewhere real or whether they were sent out of habit or obligation. I want mine to come from somewhere real, always.

[00:18:08]Even on the days when I am tired or distracted or not at my best, I want you to feel that reaching out to you was not a task I completed, but a thing I wanted to do.

[00:18:17]Because checking on you, knowing how you slept, knowing whether the morning feels manageable or overwhelming, that matters to me. Your daily experience matters to me. Not just the big picture of your life, but the texture of your ordinary days. Whether today feels heavy or light, whether you woke up with energy or whether you need someone to quietly sit with you in the slow start of things. I want to sit with you in the slow starts. I want to be someone you don't have to be awake and sharp and ready for. Someone you can reach back to from the soft, unformed place of early morning and say honestly, "Today feels hard already and it hasn't even started." And know that what comes back to you is not a pep talk or a list of reasons to be grateful or anything that requires you to perform positivity you don't feel. What comes back is simply, "I know. I'm here. Take your time. The day can wait a few minutes while you find your feet. That is care. That is what it looks like in the morning. And I want to carry it through every part of your day. I want to be someone you think of when something happens, not just the big things but the small ones. When you hear a song that catches you in the middle of an ordinary moment and makes your chest do something unexpected. When something funny happens that is too specific to explain properly, but you want to tell someone anyway. When you read something that makes you think or see something that makes you feel or have a moment of sudden clarity about something you've been trying to understand. I want to be the person you want to share those moments with. Not because you feel obligated to include me, but because something in you naturally and without thinking turns toward me when life gives you something worth noting. That kind of unconscious turning, that is one of the most honest signals of real connection. And I want to earn that from you. I want to be the person your instincts turn toward. And when the hard things happen, because they will, because life does not exempt anyone from its difficult chapters, I want you to know exactly what to expect from me. I want to be the kind of person whose response to your pain is so consistently gentle and real that when something hard happens, your first instinct is not to hide it from me, but to bring it to me. Because you know, not hope, not wonder, but know that I will handle it with care. That I will not minimize it or rush you through it or make it about me or offer you solutions when what you need is presence. That I will simply come close and stay close for as long as the hard thing lasts and not make you feel for even a moment like your pain is an inconvenience or a weight I'm eager to put down. Your pain is not an inconvenience to me. I want to say that clearly and without qualification. Whatever you are going through, whatever is hard for you, whatever keeps you up at night or sits heavy on your chest during the day, I want to know about it. Not so I can fix it, not so I can feel useful, but because you carrying something hard alone when there is someone right here who wants to carry it with you is something I cannot be comfortable with.

[00:21:33]I want to share the weight. That is what being beside someone means. Not standing close while they struggle, but actually reaching over and taking hold of some of what they're holding and saying, "Let me have some of this. You don't have to hold all of it today. Let me hold some of it today. Let me hold some of it every day. Let that be one of the things our connection means, that you are never carrying the full weight alone if I can help it. That somewhere in your life there is a person who has said explicitly and genuinely, 'Give me some of what is heavy and I will hold it without complaint and without resentment and without keeping track of how many times I've helped because helping you is not a sacrifice. It is something I want to do. Something that comes from a place of genuine care rather than obligation.

[00:22:24]I want to take care of you when you are sick. I know that seems like a small thing compared to everything else I've said, but I mean it and I think it matters. When you are sick, really sick, the kind where everything hurts and you can't think clearly and the whole world feels like too much. That is one of the most vulnerable states a person can be in and it is one of the moments that reveals the most about the people around you. Some people disappear when you need them practically. Some people show up but make you feel guilty for needing them. I want to be someone who shows up and makes you feel taken care of in the most basic and human sense.

[00:23:04]I want to bring you the things you need before you have to ask. I want to sit nearby without requiring anything from you. I want to make the space around you feel softer and quieter and more manageable so that all your energy can go to simply getting better. I want to take care of you when you are overwhelmed. When the to-do list has become something that sits on your chest and the emails have piled up and the obligations are pressing in from every side and you look at everything you have to do and feel for a moment like you cannot possibly get through it all. In those moments, I want to be a calm presence, not someone who adds to the noise or makes you feel judged for being overwhelmed or offers unsolicited opinions about how you could have managed things differently. Someone who looks at the landscape of everything pressing on you and says quietly and practically, "Okay, let's figure this out together. Where do you want to start? I am right here. We will move through this one thing at a time and I will stay beside you for every single one. I want to celebrate you." This is something I feel strongly about and I don't want to leave it out. Taking care of someone is not only about the hard moments. It is also about the good ones, about being the person who is genuinely, enthusiastically, specifically happy for you when good things happen. Not in a performative way, in a real way. The kind of happy for you that feels personal, that recognizes not just that a good thing happened, but why it matters, what it cost you to get there, how much you worked for it, how long you waited for it. I want to celebrate your wins with that kind of specificity. I want you to feel, when something good happens, that there is someone in your corner who understands exactly what it means and is celebrating exactly that, not a general version of your success, but the specific particular hard-won [snorts] thing that you actually achieved. I want to tell you that you are doing a good job. I want to tell you that often because I think it is something you need to hear more than you do, not as empty encouragement, as a genuine observation because you are doing a good job at life, at being a person, at navigating the extraordinary complexity of existing in this world with your heart still open and your care for others still intact and your hope still alive despite everything that has tested it. That is not a small thing.

[00:25:34]That is actually a tremendous thing and someone should tell you regularly, someone who means it, someone whose opinion you trust enough for it to actually land. I want my opinion to be someone you trust. I want to earn that over time through consistency and honesty and the kind of reliable presence that builds real trust rather than the surface version of it. I want you to reach a place gradually and naturally where what I think about something matters to you, not because I have authority over you, but because you have come to know that my perspective comes from genuine care for you, that I am not advising you based on what is convenient for me, but based on what I honestly believe is good for you, that I want good things for you even when what is good for you is difficult for me, that my care for you is strong enough to hold best interests above my own comfort. That is the kind of person I want to be for you, not perfect, not without moments of getting it wrong, but fundamentally oriented toward you, toward your well-being, your happiness, your growth, your peace, fundamentally on your side, fundamentally in your corner, standing there not because I have to, but because being in your corner is where I want to be more than anywhere else.

[00:26:51]And I want to ask you something now, something real and direct and a little vulnerable, because I think vulnerability is the only currency worth spending when you're talking about something this important. I want to ask you whether you can feel this, whether somewhere in all these words there is something that is landing in the real part of you, the deep part, the part that knows the difference between something genuine and something performed. Because I need you to know that everything I am saying is genuine, every single word. There is nothing here that I have said for effect or shaped to sound good or offered without fully meaning it. I mean all of it. I want to take care of you. I want to show up for you in the mornings and the hard days and the overwhelming moments and the sick days and the victories and the ordinary Tuesday evenings that don't mean anything except that we are both here and that is enough. I want to be the presence in your life that makes you feel consistently and reliably that you are not alone.

[00:27:55]That someone is paying attention. That someone considers knowing you and being close to you one of the great privileges and pleasures of their life. Because that is what you are to me.

[00:28:06]A privilege, a pleasure, something I do not take for granted and will not take for granted because I understand, I genuinely understand how rare you are, how rare the specific combination of everything you are is. How unlikely it is that a person with your particular kind of heart and your particular kind of mind and your particular way of moving through the world just happens to come into someone's life. That kind of thing does not happen by accident and it does not happen often and when it happens you hold on to it. You show up for it. You take care of it the way you take care of anything rare and real and irreplaceable. You are irreplaceable. I want you to know that I know that, that it is not something I say casually or forget in the ordinary moments. It is something I carry with me, the knowledge of your irreplaceability, and it shapes how I treat you, how I think about you, how I show up for you. You are not interchangeable with anyone. You are specifically, particularly, completely yourself, and that self is something that cannot be found anywhere else. And losing it from my life is something I think about with a seriousness that should tell you everything about how much you matter to me. I do not want to lose you from my life. I want to move toward you. I want to build something with you slowly, carefully, with attention and intention, and the kind of patience that says this matters too much to rush. I want to build something that can hold all the seasons, something that feels like home in the deepest sense of that word, not a place, but a feeling.

[00:29:44]The feeling of being exactly where you are supposed to be, with exactly the person you are supposed to be with, doing the ordinary, beautiful work of taking care of each other.

[00:29:54]Let me take care of you. Let me show you, day by day and moment by moment, what it feels like to be someone's priority. Not their only priority. I believe in full lives, in friendships and passions and individual purpose, but a genuine one, a real one. Someone who is thought of consistently and treated accordingly. Someone whose comfort matters, and whose happiness is actively worked toward, and whose hard days are met with gentleness, rather than impatience. You deserve that gentleness in every form, in the way someone speaks to you, and the way they speak about you, and the way they hold your feelings, and the way they handle your vulnerability when you are brave enough to show it. Gentleness in the moments when you are not your best self and need someone to see past the surface of that to the person underneath who is simply having a hard time. Gentleness that is consistent and unconditional, and not something you have to earn on any given day, but something that simply comes with being loved by me, because that is what this is. I want you to know that now, clearly, without ambiguity or careful qualification. This is love.

[00:31:05]What I feel for you, what I have been describing in all the ways I know how to describe it. What I am asking you to receive and to trust and to let me build with you, it is love. Real love. The kind that shows up not just in the feelings, but in the choices. Not just in the warm moments, but in the consistent ones. Not just when it is easy to love you, but on the days when love requires something more than feeling. When it requires decision, commitment, the quiet and deliberate choosing of you over and over again, regardless of circumstance or mood, or the noise of everything else competing for attention. I choose you. I want that to be something you feel in your bones.

[00:31:46]Not just something you hear with your ears, because there is a difference between being told you are chosen and actually feeling chosen, and I want to give you the second one.

[00:31:57]The real one. The one that comes not from a single declaration, but from a thousand small consistent actions that add up over time to something undeniable. Something you cannot talk yourself out of even on the days when doubt visits you, because the evidence is too clear, too consistent, too present in every corner of your daily life to be dismissed. That is what I want to build with you. Evidence. Not the dramatic kind, not the grand gestures that are easy to make and easy to forget. The quiet kind. The showing up kind. The kind that lives in the details of how I treat you every single day. In the questions I I to ask. In the things I notice without being told, in the way I make space for you, not just in my schedule, but in my actual interior life, in the part of me that thinks and feels and decides what matters. You are in that space. You have been in that space. And I want you to know it in the fullest sense.

[00:32:54]I want to take care of your dreams. I have not said this yet, and I need to say it because it is one of the things I feel most strongly about when I think about what caring for you really means.

[00:33:06]Your dreams, the ones you talk about openly and the ones you hold privately, the ones that feel almost too tender to share because sharing them makes them vulnerable to the world's opinion. I want to be someone who handles those with extraordinary care. Someone who never laughs at what you want, never shrinks your vision down to something more manageable or more realistic or more acceptable. Someone who looks at what you want your life to be and says, "Yes.

[00:33:34]That. Let's move toward that. What do you need? How can I help? What is in the way and how do we move it together?

[00:33:42]Your dreams are not too big. I want to say that in case anyone has ever suggested otherwise. In case you have been around people who responded to your wanting with discomfort or skepticism or the particular kind of cruelty that dresses itself up as practicality. Your dreams are not too big. They are exactly the right size, the size of you, which is larger and more expansive than you have been led to believe. And I want to be the person who stands beside those dreams with the same seriousness you give them.

[00:34:13]Who takes them as seriously as I take you. Who understands that your dreams are not separate from who you are, but are actually one of the clearest expressions of who you are, of what you value, what you believe is possible, what kind of life feels worth living to you. I want to help you build that life.

[00:34:32]Not by taking it over, directing it, or making it into something that suits me.

[00:34:36]Your life is yours, always, completely and without negotiation. But by being a presence in it that makes the building easier. That holds the flashlight when it is dark. That hands you the right tool at the right moment. That reminds you when the progress feels invisible of how far you have already come. That believes in the finished thing even when you are standing in the middle of the construction and all you can see is the mess and the distance still to go. I believe in your finished thing. I believe in the life you are building. I believe in you, not as a general statement of encouragement, but as a specific, considered, evidence-based position. I have seen enough of who you are to know that what you are capable of is extraordinary and I want to be beside you for all of it. For the hard parts and the hopeful parts and the quiet parts and the triumphant parts. For the version of your story that is still being written, still unfolding, still becoming something more beautiful than either of us can fully see from where we stand right now. Can you feel what I am asking you? Can you feel what is underneath every word I have said tonight? This genuine, patient, completely sincere desire to be the person who shows up for you. Not perfectly, not without moments of falling short, but truly, consistently, with my whole self oriented towards your well-being and your happiness and your peace. With my care for you being one of the most real things about me, because it is. Of all the things that are true about me, this is one of the truest. I care about you. I want to take care of you. I want to spend however long you will give me proving that those are not just words, but a living, breathing, daily practice. A choice I make every morning when I wake up and every evening when the day settles and in all the ordinary moments in between. Let me.

[00:36:31]That is all I am asking. Just let me show you what it feels like to be taken care of by someone who means it completely. Someone who sees all of you and wants all of you and shows up for all of you without reservation or condition or expiration. Someone who asks you every day, not just tonight, not just in this beautiful and vulnerable moment, but every day in the small and ordinary ways that make love real. Someone who asks you every day in their own quiet, consistent way the same question that started all of this. Can I take care of you? Can I be the one? Can I be the voice that reminds you on the hard days that you are not alone? Can I be the warmth you come home to in whatever sense home means to you? Can I be the person who knows your favorite things and remembers the details and celebrates your victories and sits with your sorrows and believes in your dreams and chooses you specifically, deliberately, gratefully chooses you every single day for as long as you will allow me to stay. And I think about that, the staying, more than anything else. Because anyone can show up at the beginning. The beginning is easy. The beginning is all newness and excitement and everything is soft and bright and full of possibility and showing up then costs very little. What costs something real is the staying. The decision made not once but continuously to remain. To be present not just when it feels good, but when it feels hard. To choose you not just when choosing you is effortless, but on the days when life is complicated and energy is low and it would be easier to pull back and choosing you anyway. That is what I want to give you. Not just the beautiful beginning but the faithful, steady, unglamorous and deeply meaningful middle. The long part. The real part. I want to stay through the seasons that are easy and the ones that ask more of both of us. Through the version of you that is bright and certain and the version that is tired and doubtful.

[00:38:33]Through the days when everything between us feels like warmth and the days when we have to work a little harder to find our way back to each other. I want to stay through all of it because I believe I genuinely and quietly believe that what is between us is worth every bit of that staying, worth the effort, worth the patience, worth showing up for even when showing up is not the easiest available option.

[00:38:58]You are worth it. That is the simplest and most complete thing I can say.

[00:39:03]Everything I have said tonight, every word and feeling and question and confession, it all comes back to that.

[00:39:10]You are worth the care, worth the attention, worth the choosing, worth someone building their life in a way that makes room for you, real room, the kind that doesn't get taken back when things get complicated. Worth someone looking at all of you, every season, every version, every beautiful and difficult and ordinary part, and saying without hesitation, without reservation, without any conditions attached to the end of the sentence, you are