I watched as he slowly began the descent into desperation. As though creating a life of hell for himself would be what he needed to make it work with her. He took on the burden to make her happy, truly believing it would make him happy. He truly believed he was making the right decision. And I wished him the best. Though I knew he was destroying who he was, he was not mine to help. I could not show him that life held more than what he was allowing himself. It made my heart ache to witness the toll his life choices were taking on him. The effects were obviously negative. Yet he put on a mask, making it seem to those less observant around him that he was just fine. He painted such a lovely picture to anyone who would listen. But I saw through it all. He deserved better a life better than this. But he didn’t understand that. Nor would he ever understand. He had been so wore down with disappointments in life that he just simply could not imagine anything better. He had convinced himself he had to make it work. And it broke my heart to see him reach that level. He was so blinded and distracted by what he was used to; he didn’t see me right there in front of him. I wanted to show him, make him understand, that there was someone out there who was unconditional. That I wouldn’t add to his pain and anxiety. That I would be who he needed. I was already trying so hard to be the person he needed at this time. But it was becoming harder and harder everyday. I just wanted him. But he didn’t want me. He couldn’t. He was too far gone. My heart became hard and bitter to cover the pain I felt. There was to be no love story here. Just a story wrapped in pain and sorrow.