how to say i love you

it's cloudy when i wake up: alone, and missing you. when you're gone, the house isn't noisy, or messy, or chaotic - but it also isn't home. there's so much open space and no one to fill it, so i sit with the ghosts of my past and wonder if maybe i had been the problem all along.

i. you said you were hungry, so i made you a sandwich. it has everything on it that you like. i even toasted the bread just right.

i've spent so much time wondering when you stopped loving me, but the truth is, you never stopped at all. my mouth speaks a language you don't understand, which leaves me tasting bitter when you don't speak the same language i do. i always thought i understood the ways that you were different - assumed that i stopped loving you because you stopped loving me first. it's quiet when i go to sleep, but i miss the noise i swore i'd rather do without.

ii. you don't want to hang out with me? we could watch that new show that just came out.

it's always hard to admit to yourself that you have flaws. there's something wrong, but it's embarrassing to acknowledge you've made mistakes - so you take out your frustrations on those you love, leaving them bewildered and on edge. maybe i've been this person, in the past. maybe, instead of appreciating the things you did for me, i only acknowledged those you didn't. you know what they say. a person can love you with all of their heart, but, if it isn't the way you understand love, it won't mean a thing.

iii. you really should drink more water, you know. and take your vitamin d, because there's no sunlight, and you get sad in the winter.

when i was a kid, i thought love would be easy: the way my parents or the neighbours made it look. when i got older, i realized people argued because they cared, and nobody fought for a relationship they weren't invested in. i spent far too much time investing myself into people who invested nothing back, or continuing to fight for people long after they had given up on me. but you taught me my worth, and i stopped exhausting myself on those who didn't make me feel appreciated.

iv. i saw this little knick-knack and thought you'd like it, so i got it for you.

in past relationships, i assumed people loved me when they told me so. as a man who never straight out says i love you, you befuddled me. i'm hard to love, and even harder to convince, and you were always much better at speaking than me. it's snowing when i wake up, with the whole bed to myself, and an empty living room where you always take up space. i used to feel used: like i was simply an accessory of comfort, meant to be a househusband and caregiver. sometimes, we focus far too much on the feelings of our own minds - and forget to focus on the feelings of anyone else's mind at all.

v. i've had enough to eat, don't worry about me. you go ahead and have the rest.

somehow, none of these meant anything to me. the thing about loving other people is that you must learn to love them in their own language. love is a word that can mean many things, while also meaning nothing at all. i say i love you by bringing home things i think you'd like. you say i love you by doing not much of anything at all. if you listen carefully, a silence speaks all kinds of things (but i've never been a very good listener).

vi. i appreciate you very much. i don't know what i'd do without you.

it's pitch black when i get home: weary, with the touch of your hand still blazing on my skin. i'm putty in your hands, and i never realized it before now. you tell me you love me in words i understand, without really saying i love you at all. i learn to listen to the silence - and within it, i hear a thousand words.