So — I Love You I don’t mean “I love you” like I like you or I want you. I mean it like a vow — etched in silence, whispered through storms, unchanged by the weather of your heart.
I love you as in — no matter what you do to me, I’ll still be scratching my eyes just to catch your shadow in the dark.
I love you like you could never disappoint me. You could leave me shattered, and I'd still piece together my hope in the shape of your name.
You complete me — not like a final puzzle piece, but a missing sound in a song I’ve been humming my whole life.
I can’t enjoy this world without the way you look at it.
I love you more than winning, more than pride, more than the sun on my back on a good day. If you fall, I’d trade my joy just to carry your burden.
You make me forget my dreams because in your presence, I sleep in visions painted better than anything I ever planned.
If I had to choose what to do forever — something tiring, something slow — I'd choose to be bored, loving you.
So — I love you. Not as a promise. Not as a wish. But as a truth. A quiet, burning truth I live by.