Love

Love. My kind of love. Let me try to explain it to you. I feel like it kind of needs explaining since it became something so complicated.
My love is passionate. It's something I show openly. If I love you, you'll know it. I don't hide my feelings well. If I love you, you'll get many hugs, probably more than is socially acceptable, and simple touches, like running my fingers through your hair. I'll kiss your forehead because I dont think kisses through the lips mean as much anymore. However, when we do kiss, I'll put my hand on your face, out of a reaction and wanting that feeling of your lips on mine to stay. My love is lying in silence enjoying your company or watching you play video games. That's honestly fun for me, I like watching you talk about and do things you are passionate about. I like seeing your eyes light up when you talk about something you are genuinely interested in. Sitting and talking is a lot more intimate to me than going out and doing stuff all the time... or rather it's spending time together.
My love is quiet though. It goes unnoticed often. This is because if I love you, I don't want to run you off, so I keep to myself. It's wanting to text you, but stopping myself so I don't seem too needy. It's not saying "I love you" because I'm scared of not hearing it back, or not wanting to push my feelings on you when you don't feel the same. It's wanting to hold your hand but not doing so because I don't want to be intrusive. It's not saying that I'm disappointed when you're leaving to go do something else when I haven't talked to you much or seen you in a while. It's not telling you I wish that I could see you more than maybe 3 hours a week.
My kind of love is probably harmful. Not to others, but to myself. This is because at night, while I'm lying here thinking about everything, I do nothing but wonder. I wonder if I'm just another face that you feel obligated to see or if I'm important to you as well. I don't know if anything that I'm doing is enough for anyone else to love me too. My love... is it pointless?