It is 10:23 p.m.
The love of my life and best friend of the last four years is telling me to be happy.
She doesn't like the scars. I joke that it makes my arms look like tigers.
She doesn't laugh.
She tries to. She tries to smile and kiss my wrists but I can feel the tears stretch down like the blood my veins once carried.
I can't do this anymore. I can't do this to her.
I tell her that I need to go.
But I don't move.
She can't see me cry. She won't see my cry.
I turn my head. Apologize for what feels like the fortieth time tonight and tell her that I never liked forcing myself to breathe.
In this room, I am comfortable. In her arms, in her silence, and in her undeserved love I am comfortable.
I love her.
But she deserves better.
Sometimes love and compatibility are not the same thing .