I don’t always say it.
Maybe I don’t know how.
But I’ve been carrying this thank you
in my chest for longer than you know.

Thank you
for being the one who stays,
even when I don’t make it easy.
Even when I act like I don’t notice.
Even when the world feels too heavy
for both of us.

You’ve been here,
steady, solid,
not needing credit,
not asking for attention,
just here.
And I don’t know if you realize
what that’s meant to me.

We don’t have soft words all the time.
We throw jokes.
We call each other names.
You sneak me snacks when no one’s watching.
And I do notice.
Even when I don’t say it,
I notice.

Because love isn’t just the stuff people post online,
or the big words everyone throws around.
It’s this.
It’s you showing up
when you’re tired,
when you don’t have to,
when you could’ve given less but didn’t.

I don’t tell you enough,
but I’m proud you’re my dad.
Not because of the word “dad,”
but because of the way you live,
the way you give,
the way you love.

Thank you for the things you said,
and for the things you didn’t have to say,
because you showed me instead.

I love you,
in all the ways I say it,
and in all the ways I don’t.

Always have.
Always will.

We weren’t close,
just two names on a team,
a glance in homeroom.

Then she broke
and something changed.
Her words grew softer,
landing like gentle promises
I wasn’t sure were meant for me.

I thought I let go.
But two months later,
a dream held her close
and I woke with a hollow
where I thought I was whole.

Now the silence stretches
across empty days,
and I’m left carrying
what we never said,
a maybe
that never found its voice.

Three weeks of pretending
this doesn’t hurt.

Three weeks of folding the same letter,
creasing the same fears.

Three weeks.
Still too much of a coward
to call it love.

I hate that I like her
cause I start overthinking everything.
Like did she mean that smile?
Or was it just nothing?
I hate that I like her
cause I replay moments
that probably meant more to me than her.

I hate that I like her
cause I get hopeful when she’s nice,
then confused when she pulls back.
I hate that I like her
cause she makes me feel soft
in a world where I’m supposed to be tough.

I hate that I like her
cause it’s easier to pretend I don’t.
Easier to joke, easier to lie
than to admit she’s the reason
I catch my breath in the hallway.

I hate that I like her.

I used to run with reckless grace,
Before I learned to hide my face.
You see me now, but can't you see
I was someone you'd never meet.

I chased the sun, I danced in rain,
Before the world taught me the pain.
You watch from far, not close enough,
To see the girl who wasn’t tough.

If you had known me back in time,
Would you have stayed, or thought me fine?
But now I’m lost in all this noise
The girl I was is just a voice

I don’t know how to say this,
but I think I’ve been holding it in too long
I love the nerves.
The way my heart races when you’re near,
how I can’t find the right words,
how I smile too fast,
then look away too slow.

I love the way you laugh,
and how I forget how to breathe
when you catch my eye.
I hate how quiet I get,
like there’s something too big in my chest
to let out.

I’ve been scared to speak,
scared of what it would mean,
but I guess this is me trying,
even if it’s messy.

—You Know Who