Little things

Today, the thing that has made me happy is an email from my mother. The content is irrelevant; the thing that made me happy is that she called me "Sweetheart".

Look: someone loves me.

*happy*

(no subject)

I would like to love you.
The idea frightens me.
I would like to love you.
I am not easy to love;
it is not that I am not loveable.
I would like to love you.
I am not easy to love;
it is that I am difficult and proud.
It is that I am unsure and still growing
and pretend I am not;
and that I am frightened.
I would like to love you,
but I like you too much.