I know I love you because I want to get you soup when you're sick. Not only do I want to get it for you, I want to make it for you so you can eat something made with love instead of with crushed insects and preservatives. I know I love you because I want to slap anyone who hurts you, even if it's your boss. I want to hold you when you're having a nightmare and kiss the spot that hurts when you bump into something. I know I love you because I want you to be healthy even when you're not sick, and that's why I keep bugging you to change your crappy eating ways even though I know you're over hearing about it.
I know I love you because I worry about the stuff only people who love you worry about, like the amount of quality sleep you get a night and how much you drink when you're sad and whether you're getting enough vitamin B. Like probably more than your mom does, I'm not sure she especially cares about vitamin B. I know I love you because I freak out when you're obviously disintegrating yet too stubborn and too "I'm fine" to actually go to the doctor, even though I do that sort of thing myself.