It’s gotten to the point where I don’t care if His parents will hate me for leaving Him, when I first met Him—he was a mess. In and out of rehab, no stable job, serious drug issues, DUIs, etc.

I felt sorry for him, I wanted to save him, so I babied him, loved on him. Then I felt like I was too soft... he was still failing. So I fucking picked his ass up and marched him back up that pedestal and now I’m draining all my resources just to keep him from falling again.

I think MY parents secretly despise him anyway… their hopes that we’ll get married are based solely on the fact that I’m sleeping with him—and no Catholic parent wants to think that their kid’s first is truly the first… before many.

Sorry dad, he’s not my first anyways… I just told you guys that to take some of the kick out of the punch.

He loves me like he loves all his other addictions.
I think if I left him... he'd curl up like a leaf on fire.
If I left him.

I’ve thought about it.
When he is holding my sweaty hand,
Or when I am thinking of other men.
And I wonder if I love him enough to leave.
There will always be lies.
He is ashamed of what he does in secret.
But I know.

I could do better,
I could possibly even find a similar soul—
I could be happy.

But he loves me.

There is another.
There are three.
And if I opened my heart up I could find more.
I imagine my life with each of them
And it would still be the same.
I would always consider the other two a part of me.
They love me.

But not enough to let me go.

And I don't love any of them,
Enough...
To leave.