I Love You

by Mat Honan

I love you. Say it with me. I love you. Look me in the eyes and we will say it together.

I love you and have always loved you and will always love you, wholly and completely, with a completeness that is only possible because of your complete love, which completes me, as a person.

Sometimes, I will notice the way you make a little popping noise with your mouth when you smoke, as the cigarette leaves your lips. Are you not aware of this? How can you not be aware of this? You do it again and again (and again) with every drag, from every cigarette. You should stop drawing on the thing before you take it out of your mouth. Given how much you smoke, I can’t believe you haven’t noticed this yourself, I mean, Jesus, it’s really fucking annoying.

Still, I love you, all the same. That is how very much I love you.

But while we are at it, I can’t believe how much you smoke. Who still smokes? It’s disgusting, and it makes other people think you are disgusting, because of the way you smell. They might even be disgusted by me, at the thought of me kissing you. I hope not. But it’s why I always brush my teeth after we kiss. (I also wish you would take better care of your gums, but that is a discussion for another time.) Anyway, I wish you would at least think about swapping to e-cigarettes. I know it is not really your fault. You are an addict.

And so I love you, even if I don’t love your addictions. (You need to do something about how much you drink. It’s not cute or amusing anymore. You have a problem.)

But your problems are our problems, because I love you, and I can shoulder your problems and bear them with you. I am strong, and wise, and perfect in most ways. I have a twenty-eight-inch waist. I love the way your fingers fit perfectly in the creases of my abs, my sweet buttery love. Do you remember how thin you were when we met? When we fell in love? Oh! I do! What happened?

I would tell you to come running with me, but you are excruciatingly slow, and lazy.

Love will never die. Love will never die. My love will devour you, I will consume you, I will shit out your soul. I will take us to a dark place. We will go there together. Love. Love. Love. Love.

Photo by Thomas

Never Better, a collection of essays from writers we love, is The Awl’s goodbye to 2014.