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I'm tired.

I . . . am so tired.

Of hearing it. Of hearing people at school, at home, online . . . telling me that the love I hold for my boy is false because of how we met.

To which I respond:

[******** you.

*sigh* When we met, a lot of things were going wrong.

He had family problems. Financial problems.

I had social problems. Trust problems.

We shared identical doubts, fears. When we began communicating, we were just teenagers blindly reaching for things we didn't even know had meaning. Any meaning. At all.

If we were reaching at all.

After much contraversy, painful conversations, and a truckload of tears . . . we made it through.

I admit it. None of you know this, but I had suicidal thoughts once or twice.

Any other boy would not have been worth the hellhole I spun through to find internal peace.

Because Tomás is not just any other boy.

I know what some of you might be thinking. You think I'm just a lovesick teenager filled with infatuations. Selfish, lustful desires. You think what I have is going to wind up hurting me - badly - in the end.

I don't care anymore. About what you think.

Call me a whore. Call me stupid.

I could not care less.

I love him.

Love. What is love?

Love is so complex. Authors and poets have sweat blood over the ages to make a decent attempt at defining the term.

The fools.

Love is something that cannot be defined, analyzed, played with, experimented with, or fondled. Love is something that you cannot touch, smell, taste, or embrace.

Love is not something that you can label.

Therefore, all of you anti-online daters are completely and utterly flawed when your "It's not real!" argument comes in to play.

You, my dear, are labeling the one thing that is not to be labeled. The universal nature of the word "love" cannot be classified or viewed through a microscope.

You have no right - absolutely none - to put yourself in God's place and stamp "WRONG" or "RIGHT" on different forms of relationships.

Before you go off crying because you missed the Good Charlotte concert or because Molly's mad at you for tearing up her love note to Josh, realize something.

Whilst you're sobbing over MySpace and trying to earn forgiveness, there is a couple in the world who can't even go to a concert together, or even write love notes (paper ones, dumbass) to each other.

You'll cry over a ******** concert, but laugh at a consentual relationship because of how the two parties happened to meet?

Bullshit.

*is actually crying* I ******** love him.

I would take a bullet for him. I would sacrifice an arm or a leg for his happiness. I would die so that he wont' have to, and so that he'll have a chance at finding true happiness, and love, again.

I would go to any extent, do anything, say anything, sacrifice anything, even wear anything . . . just so that he may smile again.

I've never felt this way about anybody before. I thought I did, when I was still with *eww* Matt . . .

But, no. What we had was not what any of us wanted. He wanted a few months. I wanted forever.

He got what he wanted.

And now, so did I.

Tomás' voice brings a smile to my face every time I hear it. When I hear his laugh, I don't fear death.

When he tells me he loves me, my throat aches and my eyes begin to sting a little.

When he cries, I'll feel tears on my cheeks before he even finishes his sentence.

When he promises me forever, I don't have any doubts in my mind.

When he blows me soft kisses through the phone, my heart flutters and my stomach leaps and churns, and fireworks begin to pop inside my abdomen.

I have never. Ever. Felt this way about anybody.

And to all of you who don't have faith in the idea of an online relationship:

Go ******** yourself.

With this.

On high.