I wrote those three words on a scrap of paper, folded it twice, and put it in my pocket. Not because I needed to remember — God knows I couldn’t forget — but because I needed to see it outside my own head.
Here’s a short reflective piece based on the phrase — written as if on paper, in thought or as a note to someone. "You love Cece." you love cece
Paper doesn’t argue. It just holds what you give it. So I gave it the truth I couldn’t speak out loud yet. Maybe someday I’ll hand her this note. Or maybe I’ll keep it — a little flag planted in the quiet territory of my own heart, proof that once, quietly, I admitted: I wrote those three words on a scrap
On paper, it looks simpler. Less scary. The ink doesn’t tremble. The letters don’t second-guess themselves. You. That’s me. No hiding. Love. That’s the hard part — not the feeling, but the saying of it. Cece. Her name like a small, warm bell. "You love Cece
You love Cece.