I can admit I don’t know much about the world. I know the earth is round. I know that the sky is blue thanks to particles (right?). I know that I hate cilantro. But on the negative end of things I know what it’s like to be in love with an alcoholic drug addict. I also know the downfall of loving someone so fucked up, but yet so intensely that, as you watch your world fall apart, you keep hanging on, you know, just in case they come around to rational thinking. But you can’t help someone, who won’t help themselves.
However, the problem with loving someone so deep in addiction is you fail in all realms. You can try to fight it. You can try to help them. You can play nurse to the wounded bird whom you’ve wanted to fix for so long, but you still come up empty-handed. So you love them with everything you have, but since you lost the war against their crutch, all you can do is watch. You can cry; believe me, you can cry until you’re raw, but at the end of the day you’re fighting against windmills. You can’t win. So you do all you can do: you walk away.
And when you look back you realize: “My god! He almost destroyed me!” Yes, in the name of love, he almost destroyed me. In my next life, if one exists, I’ll know better and I’ll walk away sooner than I did.
As I sit here debating whether or not to be a character witness at his trial, here are a few things I learned along the way.