I love you.

I haven't told you this yet, but I think you know. I think of a thousand ways that I could tell you, but I think that when the time comes, I will probably just blurt it all out, really quick-like (kind of like that time when I talked you into being my steady date).

And you haven't told me that you love me and I really don't know for sure whether you do or not (signs point to yes, but who really knows?) -- but that's not the concern.

As I got on my plane Friday night I thought, as I always do, "I hope we don't crash." And then my thoughts turned to you. And I realized that if we did crash and I died, you'd never get to hear me tell you that I love you.

So as much as I don't want to scare you or make you feel uncomfortable if you can't say the words back to me -- I think it's important that you know for certain and that you hear me say it.

So you can know that you are loved.

You know, in case of plane crash or something.

I'd rather not say it over phone lines or internet connections, though.
So you will have to wait for five more days.

Love,
Me.