"I love you."

Some people say those are the three most beautiful words in the whole universe, and I partially agree.

"Now kids, there are three kinds of love. First, there's the love between children and parents, and I think you're already familiar with it. Second, there's the love between men and women, and it's too early to tell to you about it. And third, there's the People's love of The Communist Party, and that's what I'm about to tell to you now..." - a Soviet Union sex education brochure (according to a joke, of course *g* - this one appeared in Finland)

"I love you" has so many different meanings in different situations. Maybe this is because love is such a relative term. For example, I can tell you I love you; I like Everything a lot, it's a wonderful place and there are a lot of wonderful noders in here. Yes, I like this place, even with the tr0llz. I love the Usenet, even when some might say it's just a hideous hellhole of flamers and spam. I love my country too, at least the best parts of it. I love this whole world.

And I have known people to whom I could have said these words without any doubt. And even then I've had to say that in different meanings; I have said it to Cool Persons I Really Really Respect; and (often as followup to the previous one) I've said it because of true emotional love. (No, I haven't said that to anyone to get them to bed. Honest. I usually mean what I say, these kind of things I cannot afford to toy with. =)

All I can say is that if you feel that way, that someone or something messes your thoughts positively, don't be afraid to say it! Love has many manifestations (and I'm not referring to Marxism here, no pun intended =) and admitting it to the loved one is always a step to the right direction.

- Jeanette Winterson

only one person

I find it hard to believe that after months of separation, I can still hardly hold back the tears at the thought of his name....

And how something as simple as a song on the radio, or a drawing / web page from him, or an old letter or article of clothing gets me teary-eyed (instantly).

I want to write him a letter, paint him a mural, sculpt him a statue... to form something of significance. And yet everything that is going on in my life makes it look like I don't care... like I am cheating on him. I am actually only cheating myself out of spending time with him, since I already pay attention to him in my thoughts at least once a day.

I desperately yearn for some sort of conclusion to this never-ending torment and questioning... I hope it will come to me soon.

Fearsome exterior; piercings, superfluous facial growth, towering presence looming above their heads while they watch the feet passing beneath lowered eyes. The startling hair, spiked and gelled and matching the fierce goatee reaching towards the floor from a face most don't care to look beyond.

Huge eyes, fringed by lashes dark enough to shame those who wear mascara and call themselves beautiful.

Large ears, all the better for listening to the endless stream of worries forced from between my lips, dragged from a usually silent mentality by the way you make me feel when I've emptied myself of all the horrible things built up in my soul during the years I never knew you. The smiles you dragged from me, the fears you made me forget, the soundless mirth you turned into laughter for all to hear.

The face I love, the face I can stare at for years and still see something new every second. Strong hands, just a larger version of my own, holding away the monsters of my past without blocking the memories necessary to move on. Wide shoulders, sturdy arms, easy to lose oneself within.

Size fifteen feet, the hours of shoe shopping together; a place to stand while dancing with arms wrapped around your waist.

Your skinny legs, exactly the same length as mine. The borderline lordosis I see in your spine, allowing for amazing flexibility. You can put your head between knobby knees while I struggle to touch my toes without breaking something.

Your little tummy, my perfect pillow after working all day and coming home to you. How many hours have we spent under layers of blankets on the couch playing Mario Party and watching Disney movies? Each one a treasured memory.

Driving to see you for the first time, through the snow at night, with someone I've only talked to once on the phone. Almost two years ago and a lifetime passed.

I love you.