She was a mess, but I didn't deserve her. It was the way her crooked smile hung, her scattered freckles, or maybe her uncontrollable curls. But when she laughed, her whole face contorted into such grace. I wanted a forever with her--but her forever would be far too good for me. I did not whatsoever deserve for even her eyes to glance me over--but when they did, I felt proud. She was a beautiful mess, the kind you had to love to love. And I loved her every second. No one could ever say they loved another more.