When did “love you” become the equivalent of “see ya,” “take care” or, most unsuitably, “bye!” How could a conjugation of “to love” be so ubiquitous? Last time I checked, the noun “love” or the verb “to love” encapsulated infinitely more than a routine “goodbye” or “see you later.”

Look, I’m totally guilty of the standardized “bye, love you!” But, if you didn’t already get the jist, I’m not a fan. And let me clarify: this doesn’t mean that I don’t love those “love you” recipients. Well, it depends. Upon reflection, the recipients of the “love you” are more often in the I-like-you-and-I’ll-see-you-soon category or, maybe, the I-really-like-you-I-want-to-spend-more-time-with-you category — but no way in hell that’s love. Sure, it can be, but for the most part it’s a farewell’s breezy substitute. There’s a reason why in relationships saying “I love you” for the first time is a big deal. Because it’s a big deal! So why has love, something so inexplicable and precious, become so casual? 

Admittedly, I may not be the right person to lecture on this subject. I dabble in the “love you,” of course. But add an “I,” and I’m doomed. Love, the real, raw, “I love you” haunts me. Even typing those words in 12-point Arial font gave me the heebie-jeebies.

I think it was when I began to understand the depth of love that I couldn’t bear to tell those dearest to me that I loved them. I’m sure that as a slobbering toddler or a goofball of an eight year old those three words flowed off my tongue; that is what Mom and Dad say to me, and then I say it to them, and then we hug. You say it, I say it, everyone comes together. Simple, right? But my little brain didn’t understand what I was referring to. Love?! You want to convince me I knew what love meant, that I could comprehend the magnitude of care and emotion I was putting into a routine three-word exchange? It was simply an act of life, like putting toothpaste on a chewed-up purple rubber toothbrush or saying goodbye to mom on the way into kindergarten. Saying “I love you” didn’t mean that every part of my heart and soul cared for them and wanted them to stick around on this earth with me forever. No, definitely not that.

 I know once upon a time I was able to do such things… and it’s not that I all-of-a-sudden had an epiphany and was like, “Ohhh that’s what love means. Damn it, now I can’t use that word anymore.” I think it’s that I gradually got more and more terrified of just how much I care for those special people. Even trying to comprehend how excruciatingly enormous my love is for, well, my loved ones makes me uneasy. They are my backbone, my guidance and the owners of the only arms that will truly comfort me. 

I gnaw on every ounce of love I feel, I let every droplet of thought and feeling marinate for probably too long. Classic overmarination. Now all that emotion has sat there, untouched, unheard by those it’s felt for, and I don’t think that can all come out with just one “I love you.” Maybe it’s too late. Why have I made such a simple thing so difficult?

Now I’m stuck. 

I am scared of admitting how much indescribable affection is stored up inside me, and as if saying it would admit how terrified I am of a life without them, I’ve stopped letting myself tell them at all. The magnitude of those words in regards to my loved ones is so large, so, proportionally, the fear of losing them one day is just as indescribably giant. The second I say it it becomes real, and when it becomes real, it means it’s something I can lose. Not saying it lets me keep a grip on it. Can’t say it. Can’t open the flood gates. Sorry.

So maybe I’m grateful for this whole “love you” situation: selfishly, it makes my avoidance of the three-worded-beast a lot easier. But maybe we should be more aware of our “love you”s. Love is big — in fact, it’s indescribably huge. Love should be actively acknowledged and appreciated, not just some goodbye. Just maybe don’t let it marinate as long as I did.