Habit is funny like that. You do what you always do. Lock a door. Lie. Kill people. Bury your love deep inside yourself so you can survive the pain of it. Pretend you don’t need anything until you believe it.
“I love you,” I finally confess. When I do, other words spill out in a rush. “I have for years. I have ever since I laid eyes on you. I fell in love with you the first goddamn second, and I’ve only fallen more in love with you every second since.”
