I receive love in abundance from everyone I meet.

Count the small acts aimed at you before noon. Someone made a coffee to a specification they had memorised. Someone held a door with their foot while carrying two boxes. Someone let you into a lane of traffic they were fully entitled to.

None of that is love in the large sense. It is the ordinary human default running quietly in the background, far more constant than anyone notices, because we only ever log the exceptions. The supply was never the scarce part.