My lover

So I love and fear him. Today, I love him because I believe he will be the man he says he will. Yet, he is in prison for abusing me. He smokes and he used to drink. I love that he stopped drinking, but I fear his death will come soon. When he is angry, he is verbally abusive, calling my mom a gold digger and my dad and idiot. He reserves his more subtle insults for me. He says I would kill myself if he ever left me. I have fantasized many times to leave him instead.

He is my boyfriend of five years. He is a good man. He buys me food every two weeks because I am not a rich woman. He takes care of me and helps with rent. He buys me perfumes and lotions. He cleans my apartment.

I love him but I fear him. He's crazy and he scares me, but I need him to keep me satisfied. My brother likes him because he will smoke with him.

Yet, I want passion in my life. Good is not enough.

He scares me and I shouldn't be scared of someone that I love so much.

Passion, though, is not his forte. I yearn for that tingly vibration that you make me feel. When you talk to me it is everything I ever needed in a man. No misguided angel here. No devil either. I know you are not my boyfriend, husband, or anything really. Still, you are my fantasy. The one which allows me to feel free. The lanky long love of my life.

Funny how he is my love, but you my friend are my lust.

I know we can't be. I know he is all I have in reality. Yet, the thought of you does things to me.

I've known you for seven, but him for five. You and I look good together, but you're with her. How lucky can one girl be, the little angel, the homecoming queen.

I bet she comes sweetly.

So you're with her, not with me.

I'm with him. Not with you.

I fear he will break you. He is capable of killing you. If you fight him, he will win. The one I love to fear is triple black belting it to this day.

You, though, the one I fear to love... Dare I write it say it love!

Kill me before I admit it for I am not brave enough to kill myself. God forgive me.

So, what happens if I love you and love him? I will keep you in my heart. In the silence of my heart and the confines of my mind, my secret. Perhaps it is our secret. For you would die for sure and by his hands if he found out.

I take a risk in even writing the truth, let alone verbalizing it. So, my love has cancer. I fear his death is certain and I fear it is untimely and I only want his to be cured. I love him.

Sometimes, when I'm alone with him in bed, I hesitate to touch him. I fear I might break him. He is so frail. He is 5'8" and 115 lbs. I weigh 180 lbs and I'm 5'6". I know. I'm fat. But he can't keep weight on. He eats and the cancer feeds off of him.

All of his energy is consumed. In order to satiate Cancer's appetite, he must eat twice the normal amount of daily food. I wish I could shave off some of my fat and attach it to us body, but unfortunately it doesn't work that way.

I miss him, the old him. When we first met,we rode our bicycles together everywhere. We would walk together to the park, the zoo, wherever we wanted.

Now, I pray.

I pray he gets better. That through some miracle the cancer moves backwards from stage three to one. That he goes into remission. That God blesses him with five years instead of the predicted one.

All this is because I love him and fear him. The cancer isn't separate from him. I love and fear life with him and death without. I'm scared. I'm crazy. I'm normal. I'm brave. All of this is true, but what will I do when he is far away?

His prison is real. He will be released soon. He will be coming home. Fear and love are so connected that I neither cry nor laugh about it. I feel so much and still it's unreal at the same time. Pray for us, if you are not too afraid to.

I love you too. But you are not him. I guess I will satisfy myself with the knowledge that you too are cruel and unyielding, a cancer of the body.

So, you and he are one, eh?

What is your name?

Cancer?

I see.

It's the cancer talking. When he yells it is the cancer talking. When he is angry it is the cancer. Like a brain bruise that won't heal, the cancer causes a 180 degree personality change. I won't get him back. He is Cancer. You know, he is him but he is morphed into another personality.

The man who used to clean my house and make me dinner now is the creative one who writes me love letters, draws me in my sleep when he has insomnia and paints me pumpkins for Halloween.

He is not dead yet. We are at war. BC/AC before and after cancer. Except now is only war: cancer vs. human.

Don't fear death, he says. It will come. Plan for it.

You will be fine financially without him. You are fine. Behold the healthy: behold the sick. Yet, it I who have fear in my heart, and he who loves me unconditionally. The prisoner of a mind suffers anguish and aren't we both prisoners then? I fear I love him. Help me understand this. I don't want to. Am I settling? Am I kidding? Sadly, no. I love this sick man with all my heart. I'm sick of being afraid of other people's reactions: this was my choice. Love fear.