“Love is an act of endless forgiveness, a tender look which becomes a habit.” Peter Ustinov
You’re supposed to be able to break a habit in three weeks. Well, it has been over three weeks, James, and you still have quite the hold on me. It’s like you’re in my blood, coursing through my veins.
I know that loving someone like that is a noble thing, but what good is nobility if its reward is pain?
You gave me wings. You were the first person who saw me as I truly was and accepted me. Or am I wrong? Because if you had truly seen me, you wouldn’t have left just because you were sick.
As I’ve tried to tell you, I would take you healthy or sick. If you had 30 hours or 30 years, I would have gladly gone along for the ride, no matter how bumpy or difficult it was. It would have been my honor.
The fact that you didn’t give me a chance to be with you at your darkest hour, especially if this illness takes your life, is cruel. You would never be a burden, James. Why can’t you see that? Why won’t you let me love you like that? Is it a Dom’s pride or do you really think it is the right thing to do?
All I know is that it feels completely wrong to me. You took something away from me; stole it. Now you’ll never know love’s full, healing power.
Painting: Cupid and Psyche by Eugene Medard (1878)