You have always loved the stars.
It is why you chose the career that you have pursued. It is the reason you are here today. You like to think the stars have always guided your life, a romantic notion, yet one that can also be said to be quite accurate.
Strangely, though, this decision was not made on emotion alone. You carefully weighed your options. You measured the arguments for and against each possibility. You analyzed the problem in a lucid, logical fashion. Once this process was complete, however, you let this feeling tip the final scales. There were several paths laid before you, each with their own logical advantages for choosing. Preference . . . is not a thing that can be settled upon in a rational fashion. In the end, it was a decision of the heart. You have retained this attitude in all of the major choices you make-- perhaps all of the minor ones as well. You know the vital role the mind plays in interpreting and examining. Your choices never fail to be based solidly on emotionalism as well, however. It is an aspect of your character that continues to fascinate me with each day of our acquaintance; this seeming contradiction that you appear to balance so effectively.
I have never met a human wielding emotion in quite the same fashion. I have always believed, ever since I was young, that logic and emotion are completely antagonistic to one another. One cannot help but undermine and countermand the other. The very nature of their relationship is based on that of conflict. Logic has the power to conquer emotion and emotion has the ability to overwhelm logic. They cloud one another and always run in opposing directions. There is the rare moment when they can function together as one, by sheer coincidence converging on the same purpose. This is only a fluke occurrence, however, or so I've always regarded.
That is, until I met you. In you, I saw emotion and logic functioning together in tandem, the most curious of phenomena. At first I dismissed it as one of the fluke occurrences I had always considered these to be. Eventually, the passage of time proved its appearance was far too frequent to be dismissed as mere chance. Something in your very selfhood was allowing for these two incompatible forces to meet and blend. It altered some of my most base perceptions and forced me to reexamine particular assumptions I had lived my entire life rarely questioning. It is in no way an exaggeration-- and, indeed, I would never acquiesce to such a tendency to begin with-- to state that my meeting you has altered my life on the most fundamental of levels.
You experience sympathy and compassion, yet you retain realistic expectations and a grasp of larger concerns. You experience anger and pride, yet you express great restraint and patience. You experience joy and excitement, yet you are professional and loyal to your duties. You experience lust and passion, yet your respect and concern for others remains intact. You experience anguish and mourning, yet only dwell on it when the time is yours to do so and eventually move past it with a new solidarity. You are so rarely debilitated by that which has perplexed and mystified my people for countless generations that I find it difficult to believe. Yet time and again you succeed, in a way and by a means that I would have never imagined possible.
I hold no delusions that I understand how this process works. I only am certain of the fact that it does. It is a phenomenon that I continue to study and gain insight from. Perhaps one day I will grasp this concept as firmly as you do-- I suspect that will not be possible, however, unless I were to embrace emotion in the same manner. The closest I will come is by observing you and knowing you, yourself acting as a sort of medium through which I can recognize and perceive. The value of such an opportunity cannot be estimated for it exceeds all value. To use a human phrasing, I consider it to be priceless.
You have always loved the stars, and that has been your strength instead of your weakness. And I am honored to know you for that.