There’s something more powerful about saying “love you” than “I love you,” at least among friends. For me, there is a part of it that becomes an edict, as though it’s not simply that I love you, but that the love for you in the universe is currently channeling through me. You can read it as imperative, as colloquial—lazy if you so choose, but I never do.

On the other hand, I often require the agency of “I.” I need to be the person doing the loving while I am talking to you.

Already I’m using this one as more of a journal than I care to. But that thought emerged from my going-away party, which ended only a few minutes ago, so I’m going to declare it fair game. I am leaving Chicago in thirty-six hours or less.