Living with a ... well ... you know.
I am not really sure what is going on anymore and everytime I think the fact I might be getting on a train going back to France my heart just sank.
I think he wouldn't be going insane if I told him that I would like to go back, he would even take me to the train stattion probably. But I don't know if I really want that right now. It is so hard to think about leaving someone wheny ou are sitll in love with them.
I kept having this image that everythig would end where it started, at the main train station in Berlin, and I would be crying watching his face going away as the train pulls out of the station. I don't really want to think about it but these images carved in my head and I can't get them out.
I looked at him this morning, the only time he is sober and I don't know if I am strong enough right now to leave him. I realize that if I really wish to go away i could, just get a ticket and leave.I have the options, I have no courgae, I have no idea what is going to happen or how I feel besides the sorrow and the pain. What seems to be a rational choice turned out to be the hardest one I have to make.
It is difficult to continue to trust someone once found out he has been lying about certain things, for him, about drinking if course. I asked him last night if it was possible for him to not drink for one or two days and he would get to choose the dates, he said this weekend because he had to driving around.
I thought about the possibily of getting another flat and just live my life then, block out the things I know, block out the sentiments I am holding right now; we will be just couple in names; but I am not a machine, I am not able to stop the feeling right away and just pretend nothing ever happened, pretend that I didn't love. I did.
It is better to have loved and then lost it than never love at all. As if the life is pulling a prank at me and I am fucking trapped in my own pathetic emotions; while my entire happiness revolves his soberness; while I am living with a ticking bomb everyday; I think I have forgotten what happiness is.
"They don't change." the logical and statistical statement would prove it. I know that it is almost impossible to even think about that he'd change espacially he doesn't think he has a probolem; he doesn't believe in rehabs; he doesn't go to see his shrink and part of his business, supposedly involes heavy drinking. If I were more rational, I might have left; I guess there is always small part of me is hanging on that tiny ray of hope that he'd change one day and we will look back on these days and laugh about it. Or am I simply to naive to realize this is just sheer illusion?
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