I’ve never told anybody that I love them.

I’ve never been in love.

I used to lie all the time—I’m surprised I’ve never lied and said ‘I love you’ to someone. I almost have, during those quiet times when it would be stupid to say anything else, like “funny weather we’ve been having” or even “I like the way the pillow dents your hair.” I take love too seriously to fib, to use words to fill the silences that scare me so much.

Even the words we never speak hang over us. Like clouds, or rouge balloons. I am brimming with all the love I haven’t gotten to give to anyone. My red paper heart is heavy with it. That’s why my posture is so bad.