I always loved the month of June. Not because it’s summer, okay, maybe it’s a part of it. But I’ve came to conclusion that if seasional depression is a thing (is it?) I would probably have it. I live for the summers. And that fateful June of year 2019, I met you. Let’s be honest, I’ve already knew who you are. But I didn’t knew YOU. Sometimes I wish, God I wish that I stayed in my apartment and forgot all about it, but I still went. And probably had the best night of my life. You’ll be hard to top. You are the first man to make me feel like I matter. Beautiful. Intelligent. Witty. Compassionate. I never heard so many adjectives that’re attached to my name in a sentence. I think I fell when you told me that you adore my eyes. When I look at you and narrow them like you did something bad. All that time I was thinking how can I be so lucky to meet a guy like you. I live for summers. Even though my summers don’t include you anymore, I breathe for them.