the habit of being

Everything is falling apart, again. One moment he wants me with him; the next moment, he doesn’t. I’m breaking; the world is breaking. The future is terrifying. I cry uncontrollably, about things I’ve already cried about. I’m angry. I’m literally angry. It’s not just sadness- it’s outrage. I don’t deserve to be treated this way. Yet I want it, I suppose. I want to be with him. I want him to want me.

He throws me around like an old toy, and I must forgive everything because I hurt him and I love him. It is horrible. I want this record to show that it is horrible. It is the worst thing I have ever been through. I’m constantly confused. My future changes drastically with his moods. He is the saddest person in the world. He wants to live for something else entirely, because he has no faith in people. They always disappoint him, he says. They change. He means me. He can’t live with himself he says, and I automatically add “because of what I did.”

He wants lonely solitude in a wilderness somewhere. He wants to draw plants. His philosophies are beautiful, and I’m sure he could do beautiful things, but I only think of losing my best friend, my lover, my only love. It tears me to pieces to hear him say he’d prefer trees to people when he once preferred me to anything. Now he not only doesn’t want me, but he’s condemned the entire human race because of me. He won’t put value in relationships at all, not the kind of worth he gave out love. It is not the way to truth.

What is truth? I have no concept of truth? It is he who changes so violently. I feel I am relatively steady, yet still have have no strong grip on “what I hold true.” Not anymore. I know I love this man. I know I suffer. Suffering is my truth. It is the only certain thing.

Lately I think there is a God, if only because I need to pray. (He is light. That is all. He is not truth.)