It's all so hard.

I haven't seen him in 5 days. At first, I was relieved. No screaming matches, no bawling my head off in desperation, and I could leave my wallet wherever I wanted to with no worries about my money being stolen.

He made the decision to go to a detox center last Thursday night. This gigantic step forward was made after his mother became involved in the situation. After 4 days of being clean he couldn't take it anymore. After I refused to give him any money he called his mother and begged for cash, telling her we were broke and couldn't even afford food. His mother became suspicious and called me, and I told her the fridge was stocked and my bf was jut itching for dope. She called him back and told him she was not going to give him money for drugs. He lost it. After breaking some glassware and the television remote, he repeatedly called his mother, cursing her out and threatening to kill himself. She just just kept hanging up. Then he started text messaging her saying he was not going to get treatment for his cancer if she didn't give in to his demands. Crying, she called me and said she didn't know what to do. She told me to give him the money and she would replace it in my bank account. I wasn't thrilled at all by her decision and reluctantly obliged. That evening, after much researching on the internet I found a detox center that was willing to take him even without insurance. His mother and I talked it over and I made the difficult choice of having to tell him it was rehab or he had to leave. He agreed that his addiction was out of control and it was time to do this. His mother said she would come into the city the following morning to accompany us.

The next morning I woke up early to find him staring blankly at the muted television, watching Sesame Street in silence. I asked him if he were ready for this. He said no, he would not go unless I gave him $20. The previous morning's battle was repeated once more, him calling his mother and begging for money once more. Again, she gave in. He said he wanted to go into detox feeling good. He got to the hospital in the early afternoon. I called the doctor and told him we had arrived. He informed me that an gastrointestinal virus had broken out in the detox ward and they had been forced to shut down and were not admitting new patients. My heart sank. I gave him and his mother the news. As to be expected, he wasn't quite heart broken. "Okay well that's that. Let's go home." I looked at him. "You know that's not an option. I'm not letting you come back this time honey." He lost it, yelling and cursing and both me and his mother "fuck you both!" All 3 of us stood on the sidewalk on first avenue just wondering what new chaos and drama was about to erupt. His mother said "Come stay with me in Jersey... you'll be comfortable and I'll help you through it." This idea was less than fantastic I thought, as the last time he decided to go to his mom's to clean up all he did was party with his old friends and continued to be sneaky. He didn't have any real intention to get clean. But what other options were there at this point? I nodded with an unsure look on my face and he agreed to go. We returned to our apartment, he gathered up his things and off they went.

I talk to him several times a day. Sometimes he's in a good mood, but usually he's short and doesn't have much to say. His mother gives me daily updates of his progress. At first he stayed in the house without going out at all. Now he visits an old friend whom he plays music with. The last 2 days he's been smoking pot and drinking. His mother, while not crazy about it, doesn't stop it. "Well, he's not doing heroin" is her logic. It makes me angry that he's doing this. That's not how you fucking recover. It's not party time. It's get your shit together time. He says he couldn't take it and just needed something to help him get by. I don't understand his thinking at all. Just a typical addict. Always needing something to get by.

I'm feeling pretty depressed today. Despite the fact that living with him has been a nightmare lately, I miss him so much. I want to hold him and kiss him more than anything. I want him to feel the same way and it's killing me that he probably doesn't although he says he does. I'm afraid he's going to fuck up, hang out with old friends who are bad influences. I'm afraid he's going to cheat on me. I worry, worry, worry and it doesn't fucking help at all. I worry when he's here, I worry when he's gone, my life is just one big worry-fest. For a few days I was feeling pretty good. Psyched that I had a $20 bill in my purse for 3 whole days without it disappearing. I went to class on Monday and didn't sprint home to make sure all was quiet on the western front. I went to the library and hung out with a few friends. I felt like me again. Not once did I cry myself to sleep.

My dog Elsa, that I left behind at my parent's house, died this weekend. She was old and lived a good life but it's still so hard to accept, especially now. My bf didn't really have much of a reaction and didn't offer any words of comfort and that hurt. It kills me that he's so emotionless and robotic. He used to be the most compassionate person I ever met. Now he's cold and blank, emotionally retarded. It kills me.

Will I ever get him back? Will he ever be the person I fell in love with again? Will the spark ever return to his eyes? Is it stupid to continue to wish and wish and try to hope that this problem will be erased? I NEED these answers. I need him.