…but it seems like there are volumes stuck in my head. Disjointed blurts. It hurts. I’m scared. I’m lost. He seems angry all the time now; not at me, just generally pissed off with the world. He’s acerbic. Vexatious. It’s like he wants to prove how he needs to not be here. Throwing out cavalier comments like “you need to find my replacement” or “sure, if I’m still alive, I’ll help with that.” The images he keeps on his computer desktop are of death, or impending death. It feels abusive, like psychological torture. But if I say that, I feel like he’ll use it as more proof he’s a horrible person that we need out of our misery. I did make a doctor’s appointment for him… but he didn’t go. Of course, we got the “missed appointment bill” in the mail, which didn’t help things. Proof, again, he’s not fit to be around. I’m exhausted by being “happy” all the time.
.
He’s in his bubble. No, bubble seems too inviting. More like armor made of barbed wire.
.
I still try to get close, hanging on so tight. There is pain. Bleeding. Suffering.
.
I smile anyway.
.