One day I'm going to get you the biggest things, everything (and so much more) you want.
II. To do with wealth
I shall write a thesis on the effects of wealth one day – how it only leads to mountains and mountains of debt, and an ocean of a hole where my money should be.
III. To do with a very specific man
I'd love you, 'til a blackhole swallows this Earth and whisks us into a time away when I don't know you (and, surely, even then will I love you, and wait ever so patiently for you), so stupidly and fearlessly and so specifically, and even vaguely – all the ways you want to be loved, I'll do it, and I'll do it all for you, and maybe just a little bit for how I want to see your eyes on me, on me, on me: your attention, completely arrested, by me, and me, and me, for just a fraction of a second – a nonblink of your time, all mine, kept safely away in my pocket until that blackhole comes and sucks me in (again like all times) – hopefully back to the time when I could love you, and you'd look at me longer than it takes to look away.
IV. To do with the way I love you
I love you: lengthily, viciously, obsessively, frighteningly, maddeningly, hyperbolically – and most of all, truly. Very, very truly. All the lengthy, vicious, obsessive, frightening, maddening, hyperbolic types of truth – I love you in those ways, and an unintelligible amount more.
V. To do with a very specific violation to a very specific one-liner
I love you, quite obviously more than a sentence can handle.
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