That shit you say, it can really hurt me.

The last few days have been a complete nightmare. I had envisioned (and hoped) that when my boyfriend found out about his cancer and his serious condition that it would snap him back into reality and that he'd decide to change his life around for the better. Wishful thinking as usual.

Twice in 2 days he snuck into my purse and stole my money. I was truly shocked the first time, usually it never leaves my watchful trained eye. The second time he locked me out of the apartment, went through my wallet and then ran out before I had a chance to stop him. This all happened in front of my roommate and I was mortified. The same day he threatened to kill himself and told me he would do whatever it takes to get his dope, even if it means selling his own possessions. Needless to say, I was horrified and had no idea what to do.

It's hard, it's so unbelievably fucking hard. I know he is hurting and depressed because of his failing health and this is a huge factor in why I just don't say go fuck yourself, have a nice life, and kick him out of the house. I feel like it will only be a matter of time before he is dead and I love him too much to see this happen. The pain and guilt of that would be too much to bear.

Yesterday morning was the day he had PROMISED to go to the Medicaid office and then look into rehab or a treatment program of some sort. He refused to get up in the morning and told me there was nothing I could do to get him to stop using. I told him that he needed to leave if he was not going to seek help. He told me I can't make him. Then he slept the entire day. In true codie behavior, I snooped through his things and took away his phone and wallet. Anything that will slow him down from getting that shit. What I was really interested in was finding were his keys were. He hangs out a lot in our storage space in the basement where he has all of his musical equipment and recording devices. That's where he does his drugs. I've had a sneaking suspicion that lately he's been using needles. I found out that Fats now uses them and since my bf found out the bad news I knew there was nothing stopping him from becoming more self destructive. After lots of quietly searching around, I found the keys hidden above the kitchen cabinets. Once I was in the storage space, I opened the middle drawer in his desk. Not at all to my surprised a syringe was hidden in the back. I wanted to vomit. Fucking DISGUSTING. I called his mom right away and you know what? Almost NO reaction. I couldn't believe how lax and nonchalant her attitude was. What kind of mother is she?

Later on that evening, I calmly confronted him. He looked sheepishly at me and half smiled. "How did you get in there?" I told him it didn't matter and what was important was that his actions were completely out of control and that this needs to end. Now. He agreed and said he is fucking up hardcore and needs to get his shit together. It's never reassuring anymore.

Today was miserable. He's so moody and distant, and I suppose that's to be expected. And I can't help but take it personally. I know he feels terrible but I was going out of my way to be nice to him, staying supportive and telling him I'm here for him if he truly does want to get clean. He told me he's worthless and I shouldn't stick around with such a shitty boyfriend. He said we should just break it off now. He makes me so fucking upset when he's like that. You would figure he'd be happy that I'm here for him, but in his mind he wants to leave so no one is breathing down his neck hindering his drug consumption. I know this is not the right way to help someone get clean. I KNOW they have to want it for himself and my baby-sitting him is probably not going to help the situation. But I'm such a controlling codie, I want to make everything perfect and just fix it all with my magic powers.

All I want right now is too feel appreciated and cared for. When he's high it's impossible for him to show that, and even if he did I wouldn't want it. When he's not using he's so down and depressed and I want so much for him to reach out to me and for us to just be in love again, but it's wishful thinking and painful letdowns.

Today is day two of being clean and just making it to day three seems like an impossible challenge. I no longer have hope for his miracle recovery, or even a slow steady one. He's still playing music and writing, which is nice because I usually equate those activities with him being high. If only he could take those words on paper and lyrics that spill out of his mouth and apply them for real to this disastrous mess that I'm struggling to clean up for him.