I've always been consumed by the idea of belonging— how it's always mistaken for a word embraced by selfishness, how it instantly suggests you are owned. I like to believe I belong to you, but certainly not in that way. Never. You see, when you reach out and wrap your arms around me, it doesn't feel the least bit restraining, in fact, it is as if the most natural thing in the world, yet so full of life. Your limbs are freedom I'd never want to untangle myself from. And that's how I always wanted to be held, like the flowers you sent me, wrapped altogether to emanate the kind of beauty that moves. I want you to know that most of all.