He told me that day about not being able to have it all and I told him he was wrong, that everything was within his grasp- except for his own voice. He put his head down, as if to look at his shoes, which he was not actually doing. I remember thinking he did that a lot more nowadays, hiding his face from my prying eyes, or perhaps from the world. Even in doing that often I still found myself wondering if it was out of sadness or resistance, or even a little of both. But I knew I could not make him find his voice, he would have to discover it all on his own. The words he did not dare to speak were the very same words my ears longed to hear. We were terrified; of life, of love, of what it all could mean if we allowed ourselves to match the force life was now allotting us. In that moment I realized I was completely, head over heels, madly and totally in love with him. The words however became unutterable. I was now the one terrified to speak them, but even more scared to miss the opportunity to do so. Every time I tried, they got tied up with my tongue. Every perfect moment flying over my head, only to be acknowledged after its passing. I stopped caring though, about the idea of that kind of perfection. He was perfect, at least to me, and what more could I ask really ask for? Just to have someone that important in life was enough for me. So I decided that I would just say it; blurt it, moan it, yell it, whatever. The words needed to be released, as if they were caged birds clawing at the walls within my soul. They needed to be felt, to be heard, to float freely in the wind and absorbed wherever need be. I didn’t need to hear them back, I didn’t want any sort of validation. I would love him regardless of all that. I didn’t need for him to like it, love it, or even hate it; I just needed him to know it. To always know it, and hopefully in knowing it he would choose to carry it with him, forever.