The Love I'm Given and the Love I Give

Like writing a song or a poem, I struggle to find the right words to describe the love I'm given. And if you're wondering, no I have not listened to Folklore. They say (whoever they may be) that by your late twenties or early thirties you should have found your "true match" or what ever you hope that means. But that's not the love I'm talking about. I'm talking about the unspoken, annoying, and unconditional type of love. Love we salvage for ourselves and love we ration for others. 

I'm not a love expert, and usually hate the four letter word for its ambiguity, but people are driven by it. People are in this world because of it. 
Throughout my life I have done a great deal to not take for granted the amount of love I've been given. Friends, family, and the people I meet all have different stories to tell. I can only find myself gracious and humble, knowing that this great life is made a little bit easier by it. How selfish could I be not to accept it? Not to acknowledge it? Or to even suppress it?  

. . .
Even in a sky full of grey, we bloom
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I take note of the people I meet: the things they say, the things they do, the things they don't do, and have never been the type of person to just walk away from a boring conversation because I know that everyone has something to give. I do realize though, that there are those specific few people who do not deserve the love I give. One of the truest and most unfortunate realities of life.  

We imagine the type of life we want to live, cutting out the pieces and putting them together to form this perfect big picture. This picture perfect love story. And I've realized, I'm not living a love story—I'm living my story and I'm going to write it. 
Sometimes we need to ease up on love. We give it a bad rap. We expect so much from it and from people. We find ourselves blind to what forms it manifests. I've even taken the love language quiz and you should, too. I'm not sure how much this quiz is backed up by science, if any, but it has definitely got me thinking. Our actions reflect our feelings and emotions, so much so, that my two tied love languages are "acts of service" and "words of affirmation". To put it lightly, my vacuuming the house, reorganizing the linen closet, creating a garden for my mom, or developing a blog for my 92 year-old grandfather are some examples of random acts of "service" to name a few. It could be my maternal instincts, obsessive cleaning behavior, or just the satisfaction of knowing I did something for someone else to make their lives a bit easier. 

However, "words of affirmation" are quite the contrary to acts of service, because sometimes actions don't speak louder than words. It's ironic because as a writer, I am so in tune with language and written sentiments that I often find them more endearing than just a hug or a gift at all. I'll be honest, I like hearing or reading the encouragement, the reasoning behind the affection, and maybe it's because I like having the proof? Not that I ever go looking for it, but I feel like a lot of people give the type of love that is confusing, undefined, and at times discouraging. No more guessing games—just say it. 
I found love, and I was never able to really see it or accept the way I was given it. I kept worrying and counting my life on one type of love, finding that one person to get it from, but it's all around me. Finding those tiny blips of joy, laughter, conversation, and connection with a person are closer than you think. Don't be afraid to write your own love story and wait for the love you rightfully deserve. 

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