Why does it sound like a interrogation every time you say, “I love you.”

You once told me that confessing love was akin to extending your hand to someone. That if the other person didn’t reciprocate, it meant rejection. I knew I didn’t agree with this back then, but I couldn’t explain it to you. How could I? When the words hadn’t caught up with my thoughts just yet. I know better now, your analogy wasn’t a reflection of love, it was a reflection of yourself. You weren’t asking for my understanding, it was my validation that you were looking for.

That’s not love though, that’s possession. Shouldn’t love be unconditional (as hard as that might be), or at least strive to be. It’s taken me a while to really know this beautiful thing called ‘love’. Now that I do, that’s the way i’ll love you. That’s the way I love you.

My love for you is not a question.
It is my answer.

My love for you for you does not come with conditions.
It comes with liberation.

My love for you isn’t a feeling.
It is my choice.

There is a deep pain I feel from not being able to tell you that I love you, but in this wait, my love for you will only grow stronger. So come to me, my love; when you’re ready.