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I need to start thinking about what we are going to do for our 20th anniversary.

I need to write more.

I need to be a better person.

I need to love you better.

Better. More. The expectation of change and being something greater than you are. Part of love is being aspirational, where you make yourself into a grander vision of what you are now. You do it, I think to show how much you have learned, how much you have changed for the better. You do it because you don't want to admit you've lost a step with age, and you are still capable of the grand gesture, the romantic sweep. You do it because you don't want to take the other for granted. You do it because, you think, if you do such a thing, you'll get someone in return who will make a grand gesture for you, some kind of echoing that says, "I'm grateful for you in a way that's made of fanfare and supernova light."

I do it because I'm scared of taking you for granted and letting love die. When either happens, we become hollow, and I think that's the worst crime a person can commit: taking away the things that keep us from being hollow and dead inside.

I love you.