There were certain things he loved about me, that no one else did, so I could say that he did love me for who I am. But… He also hated me for those same things, I guess, because he hated those thing about him self. So in a way, he loved me for who I am, and hated me for who I am. He would smile if I´d do something, and after a minute he´d change the expression on his face, he would get mad, but tried to laugh. It was a constant battle within him. I started to see how it affected him, it´s like the anger and happiness were eating on each other inside his head. Until one day they swallowed everything. There was nothing, not happiness nor anger. Just emptiness in his look. That was not the person I once loved so much, nor the person that loved me.
I tried to help him, but he was beyond repair. I had broken him.
So… I stayed with him. People often ask me why I had chosen to stay. I would lie and answer – I love him.
But the truth was, I didn´t love him, I loved who he was. It is shallow, I know, but then again, we all are. I stayed out of guilt. He was broken because of me, because he loved me so much he chose to stay even though he felt it was destroying him. So, I was still beside him, letting this man, this man I no longer knew, break me in return.
That my friends is great love. He loved me, even when he wasn´t him self no more.