I woke up next to you for 3 months of my life. Well, on and off some days...most days. And then one day you were gone. It wasn't my doing, I understand that you need help and I can't fix you. I know that you have to fix you, and that no one can force you to do it. But fuck I miss you. For the past few months I didn't know how to handle your being poly. I have no desire to be poly, I really just didn't know what to do with it and no amount of logical brain thinking could get me around that. But for you, I decided to try and find some way to make it work, to find some way to get a solution. And the night we argued so bad about it I got drunk on the floor of my bedroom and relapsed I didn't know what to do. And when I called all my friends they told me to leave, but I didn't want to leave. I just wanted a solution. That night I picked you up from work, I didn't know how to face you. When I left you at work we were on a break, or something. And I'd just screamed out to the entire town wondering why you wouldn't sleep with me. You'd shared my bed for 3 months, we'd spent every single day together. And I'd wondered what was so wrong with me that you didn't want to touch me the way I touched you. After getting me to do things out of my comfort zone, out of adventures I'd never thought I'd have. I just wanted you. When I picked you up things seemed okay but I was so damn frustrated and still didn't know what to do. When we got to the bar your sister gave me drink after drink because she knew I was having a bad night. And it amuses me to no end that you got cut off and she let me cut myself off after twice what you had. As a bartender she said you could barely even tell I was drunk, and it cheered me up to be that party girl again. Enough that I reached out to my only solution, someone I already loved and missed because then I figured maybe just maybe I could do this. Maybe I could do it if I already loved him and you. And that night we went back to my house and I saw a side of you I've never seen. And some parts of it were great and some parts reared that ugly head of asshole. Like when we finally did what I wanted, but I started bleeding uncontrollably and you were angry because you thought I lied. And when you shook my arm off you because you were drunk and angry and convinced I was a liar. And how you were out so hard you didn't feel me shaking beside you, and what I thought was because I was too drunk was my body going into shock because I was losing too much blood. So I dragged myself out of bed, and I was so worried about you and not me that I didn't want to wake you up. Because that's who I am. And I got up to the bathroom and realized the bleeding was worse, it wasn't stopping. And I looked at the clock to realize it had been 2 hours and I wasn't stopping. But I wasn't worried. I think I was still too drunk to worry. Because I'd drank way too much and you'd kept making me drink more. But I needed help cleaning and didn't know what to do, so I woke my mom up. And that's when she rushed me to the E.R. I tried to wake you up but you were so drunk you just passed right back out. I knew you were too drunk. And the whole way to the hospital all I worried about was you getting to work, and you being upset when you woke up. And I laid there in pain and embarrassment bleeding and just wanted to go home and make amends. And I had to keep lying about where the cut on my leg came from, and hide my hips, and hide my back, and hide my legs. Because I was afraid they'd ask too many questions and even though I'm an adult, as a teenager my kink got people sent to the psych ward so I had to hide it. And then I came home and we hung out. And things were okay. Until I hung out with your sister and you freaked out. And you cut things off and wouldn't speak to me. So I spent the day venting about you. About you letting me get harassed by that bartender and having to defend myself, and your being so drunk you tried to show off and smacked my head into a metal mailbox and when you broke Red because you had me bent backwards over a railing with just your hand on my throat for support and wouldn't let go when I said it. But before you freaked out. Before you spazzed and started cursing me for everything I was worth, I was telling her about the assault a few months ago. And she was trying to get me to go report him. Things I can't and don't talk to you about. Things that I don't have someone here to shake me and get me to talk about. But oddly I still miss you. I miss how many good times there were, because there were so many. There were so so so very many when you weren't drinking and a dick. Like when you kept me from falling off the world because I couldn't focus. And you sat there holding on to me for hours trying to get me to sleep. Like when you got excited over finding out how much faster you went on a water slide when I was on it too. And when you first came back and you came swimming with me and you weaseled your way back in after I'd told you to fuck off. And before that to when we first hung out, and I kept being a snarky little asshole and you made that grin because I was talking myself into a hole. Or within a week getting me to go job hunting and pushing me to be better and different and to give a shit again. And now I do give a shit. And the only thing I hate about you is that. Because you made me give a shit and then you left. You fucking left. And now I'm trying to reach out to the one I'd been reaching out before, and I don't know how to do that or how to have someone who isn't around all the time. Or someone who is busy often. And I don't know how to not pick fights now because the only fear is that someone will leave. And I've already lost people multiple times so is that really a fear? Is it? Because I'm good at watching people leave and missing them. So is it really any different because letting them stay is way scarier.