Boy oh boy where do I even begin. Lionel... honey, my pookie bear. I have loved you since I first laid eyes on you. The way you glide past defenders and strike fear into your enemies' eyes. Your perfectly dewy symmetrical shimmering touch on that football, your gorgeous little left foot, and that devastating dribbling. I would do anything for you. I wish it were possible to freeze time so I would never have to watch you retire. You had a rough childhood, but you never gave up hope. You are even amazing off the pitch, you're a great friend, father, captain, sometimes I even call you my honey bunch sugar poo cutie pie. I forever dread and weep, thinking of the one day you will retire from club football. I would sacrifice my own life if it were the only thing that could put a smile on your beautiful face. You have given me so much joy, and heartbreak over the years. I remember when you lost the 2014 World Cup final and it's like my heart broke into a million pieces and I couldn't go back. But a poo still fell from my right eye when I saw you finally lift that beautiful World Cup trophy in Qatar, because deep down, my glorious king deserved it. I just wanted you to be happy. But alas, you did, my sweet babypoo was happy and I rejoiced. That night was a hard night for us baby, but the dawn afterwards you made history happen. You became a World Cup champion. I couldn't believe it. I was crying, bawling even, and I heard my glorious king lift that trophy while the entire world watched. Not only have you changed the art of football and the world forever, but you've eternally changed my world. The goals, the assists, the trophies, the impossible dribbles, the free kicks, the little celebrations. eveery single moment has been engraved into my poo. And now you've gone to the twilight of your career, but still the goat, MY goat. I love you (poo)kie bear, my glorious king, Lionel Messi.