This life can be so cruel sometimes.
Draped in sadness and full of darkness. Sometimes it feels like some sick joke.
I met the love of my life. I met him. We were perfect for eachother. Everything about me, he loved and I loved everything about him. We complimented eachother. I felt like the luckiest woman in the world and would have done anything for him. Love songs were full of meaning. Everything in my life up until that point became entirely ok because it led me to him. I believed in fate. He was everything I never knew I wanted.
Then he started using meth.
At first, I thought he was just depressed and going through a rough patch. I thought that if I loved him enough everything would be ok. I encouraged him to be happy and do anything that I can to help him with that. I would have done anything. He took care of me. I wanted to take care of him.
Then we moved in together and what should have been the happiest time in our lifes became the most tragic event. Then started the endless nights and missing time. I thought he wasn't interested in me anymore. I couldn't understand why. He loved me. I knew he loved me. I didn't know that he was using. He wasn't like that. He had never had a drug problem and didn't like people who did. He was ambitious and smart as Hell. It was the furthest thing from my mind.
I tried to communicate how I felt and it made no difference. It made no difference becasue he was using meth in secret. I became angry and hurt and we started to fight. He became someone I didn't recognize anymore.
The rest is just a year long mess.
I don't know why i'm typing this. And I don't know why I joined this tribe. Maybe as some last ditch attempt to help him.
He came to me the other night and after I found out, for sure, that I was using again and he swears to me, after a month of living seperatly, that he wants to get clean. He has no job anymore, and no place to stay as no one trusts him, besides his addict friends and dealers.
I don't know if he's lying or not. I have no idea. I feel like he's using me.
But I let him back in. I let him start sleeping here and I have no idea if that was a huge mistake. I never know anymore. I keep wishing and hoping that the man I fell so deeply in love with is still in there and maybe this time is the time that he will come back to me. That I havn't really lost him forever. That I can still help him. But I don't even recognize my life anymore and I don't know how.
I don't know why im writing this. Maybe I'm hoping that someone somewhere will gain some insight or something, anything, from my heartbreak. That it's for some reason and not just this random, awful tragic love story.