Last night James got drunk again. The problem is grave. He doesn’t know why he needs to get drunk, but says that he needs to at least four times a day. I don’t seem to satisfy much in him. I don’t understand him when he says he needs me. He’s so down on himself that he relies not at all on himself but on chemicals for happiness. He only seeks me out for affection when he fears its loss. I’m so sad. He is more physical toward me in the presence of other folk than when we are alone. He thinks when I say “I love you,” that I am asking a question, that I need something in return. Patience, I
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