"I love you." "I love you back." "I'm in-love with you." "ILY." "Love you." "Luv ya'."

So many ways to express love. So many ways to say the same thing and make it mean so many other things. Subtle differences that change the entire meaning of what they said and what you heard.

My girlfriend and I used to say "I love you." But then we would add "Forever and always... and a day." It somehow enhanced the pathetic shortcoming of consonants and vowels. Then we also used to text a string...

"I"

"Love"

"You"

I know it's cute and childlike but it meant more than that to us. It was a way that we stayed connected between our trips. It was basic communication of our feelings that set the table for other meaningful communications.

Anyone who has ever set pen to paper, or nowadays, fingers to keyboard, has at one time or another expressed their view of love. I have more than once. I remain inflexible on my view of love.

It's a term that has become so overused that it now reflects everything from paint colors to ice cream. "Oh, I love that dress" or "Man, I love that set of wheels". And if someone ever says "Luv ya'" to you, well you might as well be a bowl of chocolate pudding because everyone loves that.

Love. True love is an open door. Just one door. In only. You walk in and your house has a living room, a kitchen, hallways and bedroom. There is no backdoor. There is no escape. If love leaves you, your house burns down around you. You feel every falling timber and every hot ash. You throw water as long as you can, and every once in a while, if you are lucky, you put out the flames and rebuild.

Love dies as intensely as it was born. It leaves a mark. It is a slow death of passion, desire, addiction and longing. It corrupts your past, your present, and your future. It changes you. For the worse if you let it. For better if you make it.

It is your house. You built it. And if you have a backdoor in your house, it wasn't love. You were just passing through.