When he comes through the door, my heart leaps and my face splits with an uncontrollable smile. When he kisses me on the top of my head as I tap away at the computer, my insides dissolve. He enfolds me in his arms and I feel like a child, in the nicest way. He is the funniest, smartest, most interesting man I've ever met. I am happy and grateful that he is mine, that he loves me.
He's the only man I've ever loved.
To wish all that away, for the sake of my fractious, greedy, needy cunt and my broken and bruised self-image, is ridiculous.
I should be healing myself. It's not his job.
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