My new American hutch

I love you. So, so much.
All I want, is for us to love one another. To be with one another.
I don't want to be one of those girls that has a million different 'The Ones'. Flirting between absolute happiness and heartbreak.
I'm sure that my parents would admit to you that as much as they 'love' me, they never were very good at showing it. Which has made it so hard for me to learn to 'love' another, because I've never had the example set for me.
But my God, I love you. And I know, I know that I fuck up. I fuck up, because with each day, I'm learning. I'm learning to be forgiving. I'm learning not to be such a bitch. I'm learning that there are two of us, and we must take turns in getting what we want, and to be happy just because you are happy.
I love your family. I love having two older sisters. I love having a Dad that shows me that he does care for me. And I love having a mum that I can sit on the kitchen table with, and drink a glass of wine with, and pour my heart out to. This is new. This is learned. And all I need is a kick up the bum every now and again.
What was never meant to be was your illness. It was not us. You were my lifeline after my last boyfriend really took me to the cleaners. And I hope that I was your lifeline when you got poorly. Whether it was the fact of me being there with you, or the fact that you could take out your sadness on me. You were my real childhood sweetheart. The one that I would gush about to our children, how much I 'fancied' you when we were at school together and how I thank God as much as I can that he brought us together.
I love you so, so, achingly much sweetheart.