I can't tell you I love you, yet. Although the meaning behind that phrase is emodied throughout everything I do, I cannot say those three words, yet.

I cannot say them, because you cannot say them, and I will wait for you.

The truth is, I don't know if I'm ready to say them yet. There are pieces of me that must be dug up and replanted. There are parts of me I'm not proud of. There are aspects of who I am that I wish to reshape and rechisel.

I understand I'll never be perfect, but I want to be better before I tell you I love you.

I do love you, now. I love you the way I know how to love, but with some reserve. I believe I am afraid to love you fully, with every bit of my heart. I am afraid because I understand what it is to be hurt.

Strangely, I'm more afraid of being the one to hurt you. I can't fathom the idea of bringing you pain, whether intentionallly or accidentally.

You are all the good I want to be. You are exactly the kind of person I wish to become. I love everything about you.

One day, I'll tell you, but not yet.