The Most Honest Thing I'll Ever Say

There are certain words in our language that can’t be taken lightly. No. Stop. Yes. Absolutely. Each one is short, clear, and impossible to misinterpret. They mean what they mean, with no fluff and no guessing.

For me, I love you belongs in that same category. It’s not filler. It’s not something I say out of habit or because silence feels uncomfortable. Those words are sacred to me, weighted with meaning that goes far beyond casual use.

Maybe that’s because I’ve been destroyed by them more times than I can count. I’ve heard I love you from people who didn’t mean it, who used it as currency, who dropped it like a placeholder for loyalty they couldn’t live up to. When you’ve been gutted by false I love yous enough times, you start treating those words with a kind of reverence. You don’t waste them. You don’t give them to people who can’t hold them.

So, when I say it—platonically, romantically, or anywhere in between—I mean it. I’m not careless with those three words. If I tell you I love you, it means I see you. Not just the polished version you show to the world, but the complicated, messy, real version. It means I value who you are and what you bring into my life. It means you matter to me in a way that isn’t fleeting or conditional.

Love doesn’t always have to wear red hearts or come dressed in roses. Love isn’t limited to candlelight dinners or fairytale romance. Sometimes, love is friendship. Sometimes, it’s the steady reminder that someone has chosen you—not because of what you can do for them, but simply because of who you are. It’s the late-night conversations, the way you check in when the world feels heavy, the comfort of knowing someone has your back.

And yet, in a world that throws I love you around so casually, I realize people often don’t know how to accept it without suspicion. They wait for the “catch,” wonder if it’s empty, or question if it’s said just to fill space. But I’m not built that way. Words mean too much to me. They’re the foundation of how I move through the world, how I connect, how I write, how I make sense of everything. I hold them too close to ever let them become hollow.

If I tell you I love you, believe it. It’s not up for debate. It’s not something you need to second-guess or analyze for hidden meanings. It’s the most honest thing I’ll ever say.

Because love, in its truest form, isn’t always about romance. Sometimes it’s about friendship. Sometimes it’s about survival. Sometimes it’s about the quiet knowledge that you are valued, you are seen, and you are important. And if you hear those words from me, it means I’ve placed you in the rarest part of my life—the place reserved for the people who matter most.

And that, to me, is everything.