“I know I’m not supposed to say this, but I love you.”

“I’m not supposed to be anything else than a man that’s stupidly in love with you. That’s what I know.”

“I’m in love with you Renata. I know I’m not a poet – shit, not even close. I don’t have all the fancy words I wish I could say to you … but I want you to know that what I’m feeling for you is real. I love you.”

“Sometimes I see something so moving I know I’m not supposed to linger. See it and leave. If you stay too long, you wear out the wordless shock. Love it and trust it and leave.”

“I will always love you.” [...]"That’s what I was supposed to say...”

“We could call you an ambisexual. A duosexual. A—”“Do I really have to find a word for it?” Kyle interrupts. “Can’t it just be what it is?”“Of course,” I say, even though in the bigger world I’m not so sure. The world loves stupid labels. I wish we got to choose our own.We pause for a moment. I wonder if that’s all—if he just needed to say the truth and have it heard. But then Kyle looks at me with unsure eyes and says, “You see, I don’t know who I’m supposed to be.”“Nobody does,” I assure him.”