Maybe I'm selfish, but...

I'm sorry...to those who be reached out to me here. It's difficult to explain to you, what's going through my mind. I don't think we're going to make it. You see, she doesn't know what it means to "hope." She's said so herself. And I'm Christian. I know my God. She doesn't know faith. I wouldn't care if her God was different than mine, though. Just...fucking have it. You know? I was in emergency rooms with you on days that I was called on CAREER interviews and I told you, nothing. I laid in bed with you on afternoons when the rest of the world was counting on me for their well being-my well being; my dreams...I had thrown away precariously for this HOPE that YOU would want to be better. But then the next day, after they'd had their way with you with all the pokes and priding with this medicating, you go back...eating the shit you're not supposed to eat...even on good days, lying in bed like there was nothing propping you up to stand on your feet-where the fuck do I fit in? I don't know anymore. I feel like I'm the only one fighting for you. I can't take it anymore. I have no idea what to fucking do.

You were supposed to love me.