You supposedly fill my lungs with air and circulate blood through my veins, still I find it hard to believe you when you say everything will be alright. I really hope it will, but your word can never seem to genuinely be enough. I'd really like to see you for myself, but I know thats asking too much. And bigger than that: thats not the point of your existence, or nonexistence. I have no intentions of taking advantage of you; using you as nothing more than a crutch, or as some people, a wheelchair. I will fill my life with you and play life by your rules and regulations, your standards and morals. I will follow your voice, regardless of the volume and tone, to the direction in which you wish for me to go. I will never try to hide from you or use you as a label. I'll whole-heartedly care for you.
The only thing I ask of you: when my life is through, you will meet me at the pearly white gates, as I pictured, guide me through the doors, and seat me beside you, and your family, and my family, and your friends, and my friends, and your significant other, and my significant other.