I'm still in love with my husband, even tho I left him for someone else. We were addicted to heroin, he was in jail, a work program, so I could see him everyday. In the end, he took me for granted, but he never hurt me, never abused me. Instead he did it to himself. I left to save myself from all of it. To get away from the drugs, the stress, the hopelessness..but I secretly don't want a divorce, because I hope it might work out someday. Even tho the one I'm with now is perfect. He is what every girl wants in a guy, and doesn't think exists. My life is better than its ever been, and it looks like I might have a decent future building up. I even love him...but my passion is somewhere else, with someone else. I fake it in bed, I fake being ok most days. Because inside, what is tearing me apart is that I want to throw all of it away for a jailbird, a junkie, a degenerate loser. I fantasize about going back to my old life, a step away from homeless, without to pennys to rub together, but with the love of my life. I want to cry until the world ends, but I can't shed a tear, for fear that my boyfriend will know. Or find out. And I did all of this because it's better for me, it healthy, it's responsible, it's part of being an adult...right? Somehow, I'm not convinced its all worth it. I'm afraid of both eventualitys. That I will live forever with regret. So I stay here. Because its the adult thing to do...I don't like growing up like this. Young forever has always sounded much more fulfilling...but every day I deny my heart, I get a little colder, a little less vibrant. I feel like I'm dieting inside, simply from indecision. The worst thing is...I'm actually kinda happy with my life, proud of myself. And so lonely I could die..