Brigitte and I first met at college in 2009, introduced at a party through mutual friends. I was going through such an exciting time in my life. Every day brought fresh ideas, and I was exhilarated by the daily onslaught of new experiences. There was a sense of discovery in the air, as if all those around me were taking part in a great communal project, assembling themselves into bigger and better people, bit by bit.

I was all the more impressed by Brigitte, this cute, quirky, foul-mouthed, spritely little riddle of a human being, because she seemed like she had found herself ages ago. I felt like she knew exactly who she was, like it would've been unbearable for her to try to be anything else. She was and is so different; anyone who knows her well will tell you, she is like no other person on earth.

I remember she was wearing a black beret, the finishing touch to one of those adorable little costumes she still loves to wear. She was a paradox; one moment struggling to carry the world on her back, the next moment flippant and free, her eyes flashing. Sometimes I felt like I could see the sadness of the world in those eyes. She's always been an old soul.

We were dating other people at the time, and would continue doing so for years. I graduated Purdue and moved to Chicago to start my career as a graphic designer. Brigitte transferred away to study mortuary science. We were still friends, but only in the cursory way you keep friends in other cities, a kind of holding pattern set up in case your lives chance to intersect again. For us, ours did.

We both attended a kind of reunion for our group of friends at Purdue, and I remember seeing her in a completely new way. It felt like meeting her for the first time again. I remember sitting off in a corner of a party with her, talking about what kind of parents we wanted to be.

After that weekend, I was determined to keep her in my life this time, but I didn't know how to tell her my feelings. So I did what I often do when I'm at a loss for words -- I painted. I painted her the way that I saw her, covered in symbols and carrying a flaming sword, a brave warrior meeting her challenges head-on. When I showed her the painting, I think a part of her understood how I felt.

We've been together almost six years since, and our lives look different now, but we are still the same people we were back then. Every day we fall deeper in love, and together cast our lives into ever more perfect shapes. I still feel the excitement of new experiences and ideas, but now that is our project, our lives the fruit of each other's labor. She is everything to me, and I can't imagine my life without her.