Love and its expressions are so individual. Some use words. Some use action. It is as individual and unique as the person expressing it. There are different depths, different intensities, different levels, different kinds of love.
I’ve come to realise that love is in the small things. It’s in the way they say I’m thinking of you without saying it out loud. It’s in the small considerations. It’s in the small inconveniences they allow because you matter more to them than the disregulation they’ll feel. It’s in the small, fleeting touches, the side looks, in the involuntary smiles. It’s in the way they let you see them and their vulnerabilities. It’s in the small but dependable, almost habitual consistency. It’s how they are present for you, and not just by being there physically.
I am not, by any means, discounting the showy outpouring expressions of love. Yes, love is also in the grand gestures, in the wonderful, audible proclamations, the generous gift-giving, and the opening-of-the-floodgates intensity of expression. While the out-loud expressions can be performative because of societal expectations, there are the small, telltale signs that there was thought in the actions, and that you were the sole focus of the action.
When you are truly loved, you know. You feel it.
Love begets love. You need to trust that it does. Because it will.
Yellywelly 