You still love him, don’t you?
/Yes. No. Possibly, sometimes, on Mondays, but it fades by Friday. When I’m cold and when I’m tired, but not when I’m sick. When I’m waiting for someone to come in and understand whatever it is that I am unable to say in a language I can speak. When I need someone to come in and undress my expectations to expose them for what they are; doubt. I don’t love him when I explain every detail beyond his naivety, or when I need send reminders in the form of houseplants and light ire to say that life is bigger and less important than what he can see. When we repeat our usual nighttime script of lighthearted apologies and promises peppered with regret I know I love him. But it is Monday, and it’ll fade again/
I don’t know.
I think you should talk to him