You profess your love - you say you love me not for how I look, but for who I am. Good looks will one day fade, but your love will not fade with them, you insist. You pledge to love me wholly and unconditionally beyond when I turn old and grey.
You give your word with much ease, for I am young, hearty, cheerful and care-free; I amuse you with entertaining narration and stories; I make you laugh with witty remarks and light-hearted jokes; I fill your days with love, passion and delightful conversations. I lift your spirits when you're down, share your glee when you're joyful, and hold you close when you're discouraged. No, I do not doubt your sincerity when you gave your promise of unconditional love.
Yet, would you still love me when I am down, disheartened and passing my days in perpetual gloom? Would you still love me when I tire and no longer have the desire nor zest to constantly fill the silence between us? Would you still love me when I grumble, fret, cry, demand, scold or am being difficult? Would you still love me when you find that you cannot see any reasons I should be unhappy, yet I dwell continuously in senseless despair and disappointment? Would you still love me when I demand more than you are willing to give, ever? Would you? Could you honestly say your love would remain as strong and unwavering?
Is not then, my pleasant and buoyant disposition a condition for your love? My being always happy, content and agreeable? My never being weary of initiating and preserving communication? How then, is your love unconditional?
Do not profess, unless you are certain, for my heart would break.