Something in his head is twisted, and every part of me wants to fix it, but I don’t know how. I don’t know what happened or how to put the pieces of him back together. It’s like someone handed me a puzzle but put a blindfold over my eyes. I can feel the edges but can’t see how they fit together. It hurts to know he’s in so much pain. Does he not trust me with the truth? All I want is for him to be okay. We need to talk. I can’t keep living like this. Never knowing what version of him will walk into our room or if he’s coming back at all. It’s exhausting.
