**I did not write this - I found this on another website**
Loving me is easy when life is good. When I'm cartwheeling through tulip fields, twirling in the sun, arms out, embracing the world, voice soaring in song. When I'm smiling a Cheshire cat smile, pulling you by the hand as we go down the rabbit hole on a madcap adventure Kerouac would have approved of. When I'm gazing at you in the moonlight, memorizing your face by the shadows it holds as the cicadas sing in the hot summer night. When I lean close to you and whisper my secrets into your ear unbidden, reading you the secret diary of my heart.
I love your love then, bask in it, relish it, but that's not when I need your love the most. I need it the most when my insecurities build a wall around me constructed of bricks of past hurts, disappointments and betrayals held together with mortar made of lies. When the world is too much for even me to bear, strong as I am, and I lie curled in your bed, a silent, shuddering mess of sobs, refusing to be soothed by anything except the dawn of a new day. When I lash out, cutting you with a tongue dripping in acid, not honey, punishing you for daring to love me, not in spite of my faults but because of them, because you recognize that they work in tandem with my loveliness to form the imperfect to the world but perfect for you person that is me.
When loving me is hard, that's when I need you to do it the most.
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