Last night, I asked if you were going to pause the show we were watching (as it was after 9p and you had to work in the morning), except my brain shorted out at, “Are you gonna…” and the words I needed got blown away like a plastic bag in high winds. By the time you were able to get through skipping the recap for the next episode, my brain kicked back into gear and I finished my sentence, “…pause it?” You got annoyed and spoke to me like I was an idiot, as if I were attacking you for being slow. My knee-jerk response? A sarcastic, “My bad!” And silence.

I sat there, not moving, when you laid your head on my shoulder and stroked my hand. The light was off, so hiding my attempt to choke back the silent tears from you was easy. Did you even notice that the interaction we had was negatively charged? That the way you reacted was out of line? That you’d hurt my feelings and made me feel stupid? Did you even care? My mind races with this kind of shit – and more – when I’m unexpectedly triggered. And I felt monumentally fucking guilty for being that hurt by something so “small.”

You said you needed to go to bed, I responded with a quiet “yeah,” and you got up. Your kisses were gentle before saying, “Night, babe. Love you.” I told you I loved you, too. You got Floof and went upstairs, and I let the tears fall unabashed.

Was it the previous night you told me, “I want you in my life”?! Cuz that’s the thing with stress and trauma… I forget. Time gets distorted. Details become lost in the sea of emotional turmoil. Am I overreacting? Or is it that there’s so much going on with us that even the smallest incident can Sparta Kick me over the edge? Either way, it grinds my mind-gears. I start to question what I’m doing, what we’re doing, and whether you truly see me as “your person” or not.

You say you want me in your life, but… in what capacity?! As things stand right now – from my perspective – I’m not even a friend with benefits. In these quiet moments when my mind is racing and I’m reviewing our relationship, there’s a steady pattern that emerges of me not being chosen. The “quality time” we spend together feels like surface-level bullshit. Watching shows or gaming together isn’t quality time. We aren’t doing things that are bringing us closer together, we’re occupying our time with shit that doesn’t require real connection.

Check-ins are a struggle in and of themselves. We give our numbers (how the day went and the Recovery Program) and maybe talk about what we did that day. Occasionally, I try to dive a little deeper, but it feels like pulling teeth getting you to share anything of substance.

And thus, I wonder what I am to you. Do you resent me for existing in your world in a capacity that holds you accountable and demands growth? You don’t ever seem curious about me or what I’m going through. I feel like I’m consistently being placated for however long is necessary before I can be placated again. You don’t confide in me. You take away my chance to have compassion and understanding for you when you slip-up. You LIE. Do you see me?

My side of things requires so much patience and holding space for both of us. I have to fight these internal battles every single day and continue to choose you, despite feeling like I’m nothing more than an entertaining roommate (at best). Will it be worth the effort? I ponder this regularly. And yeah, there are a few times that I’ve felt confident that it will be worth all the pain, suffering, and stress, because I see you. I see all the great things inside you that are buried under the weight of this addiction and all the tragic things you’ve had to endure in life. But most of the time…? I’m sad and lonely, waiting impatiently for proof that you love me and want me – and us – to be happy… together.