What I think it feels like being loved by me.

I think I've finally figured it out. I think I know what it must feel like to be loved by me. 
Having a broken arm. 
It's a new experience so that's exciting if nothing else. Let's say you even got to pick the colour because it's one of those fabric casts, so it's nice to have around such a vibrant accessory in your favourite colour. You like the fact that you can draw on it and it gets you out of work - there are positives. You show all your friends and they sign it and it slowly starts to gain quite a bit of sentimental value. You grow a quite attached to it. 
But then it's with you all the time. 
It starts to itch incessantly, be a complete nuisance and in general, it smell's a bit funny. It's always in the way, latched on to you. It's hard to sleep next to and there just doesn't seem to be a way you can lie where it's not uncomfortable. You feel like you can't do some of the things you really enjoy. You could probably still do them, but it's just a bit more awkward with the cast there.
By this point, all you want to do is get rid of it. You start feel the urge to take it off yourself with that rusty saw in the shed because you can't imagine it'll hurt any more than it did before when you broke it. You're getting sick of it. 
I love too hard. I am a pain. I always want to be there and if I've not made him smile once a day I don't feel like I've done my job. I have too many problems to be worth it. 
I don't want to drive him away. I love him with all my heart.
But I'm scared that that might be the problem.