He stood in front of me, the most beautiful sight anyone had ever seen before. He was a work of art. You wanted to describe him but you couldn’t. Then you wanted to touch him to understand him but you couldn’t.

Each freckle painted on his body was like a constellation, it created something beautiful that you wanted to make wishes on.

With eyes that looked like a cloudy spring morning, gray and quiet. And if looks could kill, you would drop dead with just a glance. Sometimes it’s hard to look him in the eyes because if I do, I know I’ll never look away.

And then when he speaks… It shatters you. His raspy voice can make you fly and then it can rip off your wings. Just when you think you understand his game, another curve ball. One moment he’ll whisper, I love you, you know that? In your ear and then nibble on your earlobe, and then the next moment he’ll scream, You’re worthless – nothing more than a toy. And yet he plays that game so well that you have to wait around to see what he’ll say or do next.

He’s a poison for the mind, body, and soul. So toxic that sometimes I think he gets off on it. It’s not until you wake up to find him missing from the bed you share, that you wonder if he’s even worth it at all. When he leaves your side for a moment, you crave him yet try your hardest to push yourself away from loving him anymore that you do.

But that’s the hardest part. He’s the kind of guy that you’ll love so much that it’ll actually hurt. And then he’ll say that he’ll never love you – no matter how much you confess your love for him. He’s brutal and honest, yet he can make you stay with just a brush of his finger tips. And now you hold on to anything and everything while you chase him around, waiting for the love he’ll never return.

And as he stands in front of me with a half empty bottle of whiskey in one hand and a half finished cigarette in the other, I realize that I am once again at battle with myself. I have given a year of my life giving in to his every command, a year that some would say I have wasted while I say I have truly lived and loved. Yet, I battle with myself to gather everything and leave or to crawl into bed and lie next to him.

The kind of battle that keeps you up at night while the one you crave the attention from lays sound asleep next to you. How can one sleep when your heart is beating so loudly against your chest? You ask yourself as you stare at the ceiling, blinking away the tears. How does anyone do anything with this much love for someone?

Each time a thought like that comes to mind, I look over at him asleep and that’s the reason why I stay. When he sleeps, there is peace with him. I believe that deep down, there’s a version of him who wants to be let out that has been imprisoned for who knows how long. I know I can’t fix him; people tell that to me every day. I have always known I can’t fix him; he doesn’t want to be fixed.

What I do know and do believe can happen is if I make him feel the slightest sense of humanity that maybe things can change. That maybe he’ll let me in, he’ll hold me, and he can guide me as I fix myself. The realistic side of me knows that no matter what, there is no helping him. And the side of me that loves him? He just needs a push.

Like I said, he wasn’t God or anything but he had just about that much power over me. Every decision I had to make, he made for me. Every movement I made, he had to have the approval. Every breath of air I gasped in, he provided for me. It was always yes with whatever he wanted to do. I could never say no.

But truth be told, I didn’t know what I feared more in this world… Losing him or being with him.