If she loves you, if she really loves you, you’ll know it.
If you can wake up to her staring at you and it’s not even mildly creepy, if you catch her smelling the shoulder of the hooded sweatshirt you lent her for an autumn walk at the beach, and not for B.O.
If she makes you a pancake in the shape of a shark, if she calls you drunkenly at four in the morning “to talk,” if she laughs at your jokes when they’re funny and makes fun of you when they’re not, if she keeps her fridge stocked with Guinness tallboys for when you come over,
if she tells you how she wishes she were closer to her sister and that her dad makes her sad:
She loves you, of course she loves you.

If she ever says the words, “I hate you”: She loves you. Or she did at one point, anyway.

If she says, “I love you” on the roller coaster, right after you’ve puked down your shirt: She loves you.

-

If you have to set two alarms at night, one for the morning wake-up and one that marks the hour that the two of you absolutely have to stop talking and let each other sleep—he loves you.

Love isn’t an act, it’s a whole life.
It’s staying with her now because she needs you; it’s knowing you and she will still care about each other when sex and daydreams, fights and futures—when all that’s on the shelf and done with.
Love—why, I’ll tell you what love is: it’s you at seventy-five and her at seventy-one, each of you listening for the other’s step in the next room, each afraid that a sudden silence, a sudden cry, could mean a lifetime’s talk is over.

(Does she/he love you by Pasha Malla)

Anyway HAPPY 19TH BIRTHDAY SHARMAINE!!
CANNOT WAIT TO SEE YOU TOMORROW (: