Laying in bed next to him.  So close I can feel the warmth of his body. 
Listening to his steady breathing.  Watching him as I wonder why in the world I fucked up the best thing to EVER happen to me. 
I love him with all my heart and soul. 

He told me earlier today that he was breaking up with me.  He doesn’t know I use drugs, but it doesn’t matter now anyway. Just one more thing I’ve fucked up because of my addiction. 
He says he can’t handle my moodiness…makes him feel like he’s on pins and needles.

If only I could tell him I need help… If only I knew that he would stay if I did tell him…

None of that matters anymore.  I have one week to move my stuff out.  Where the hell am I supposed to live?  Why do I even fucking care?  Without him I don’t wanna live.