He was able to do what I couldn’t, and although he kept trying to drag me along with him, I still lived with the fear that eventually, he’d fix himself and I’d still be broken. Too broken for him, for any of them. We’d met each other at our lowest and risen out of that together. We’d been desperate back then, searching for any reason at all to keep going, and we’d found that in each other. How selfish was I to worry that he might not need me anymore?
