#22 - Home

I know well enough that saying “I love you” isn’t something to take lightly.

The word “love,” just two syllables that make my face feel warm. It and I had no real connection.

Even so, perhaps I could say “I love you” without much difficulty because of the way I thought about it.

I was more used to showing things through my actions than expressing them in words.

And more than words or actions, I ultimately thought what mattered was what I decided in my own heart.

Because words and actions can be imitated all too easily, and because I didn’t particularly care whether anyone noticed.

If someone understood me—yes, someone as close as family, for example—they’d understand me even without words.

This worldview might have been a defense mechanism to excuse how taciturn and inarticulate I was.

Even so, doesn’t that make me a perfect fit for the role of my sister’s fake husband?

I can say it as many times as I want...