On this day, I realized how much I loved her.  As the hours passed in an attempt to sleep last night I broke down.  I texted her.  I pour my heart out.   My bpd, my issues, my insanity was laid out.  She heard my heartbreaking tale of how I have always been second best.     She heard how my exs have all cheated, lied, beat me, drugged me, and left me for dead.  It felt good to let out all of the hurt.  It felt good to tell her what I've overcome.  It felt good to announce that after all this, I'm still working on getting it together.   How I'm not giving up and how I can still care and love. Even if it's too much, I won't die inside.  I will find someone who won't leave and who loves me back.   I will overcome this.   How weird it is to be so hurt and crippled by the pain of lost love, but still desire to find it at all costs.  I need to be loved.  It's a sick obsession I have.  The desire to be loved in return.   