I have been like this since I was eighteen. I am forty five now. There is no reason to think I am ever going to change. I have no involvement with mental health services anymore. They gave me therapy and pills and sent me on my way. There's not much else they can do for me. I held on to hope for a long time, hope was what kept me alive. But, come on. You can't live on hope alone, only a fool would do that. You have to find something else. When hope runs out and there's nothing left but a black gaping hole you need something to fill it in, and that's why I have Ray. Don't get me wrong I still have threads of hope, but not enough to cling to. If I let my whole weight bear down on them they would snap and everything would crash down around me and I can't let myself think about what would happen then.

Ray is my reason for living. Ray is how I am able to get out of bed every morning, and stay out of bed. It may be weird, and a little invasive on his and his families lives but if it gives me enough comfort to stay alive, how could anyone possibly begrudge me that? Ray is beautiful, he really is. I've never seen anyone like him. I can't explain or describe it, there's just a je ne sais quois as the French say, though that sounds wet.

He has my whole heart and my complete undivided attention. There's nothing I wouldn't do for him. I need him, that's all there is to it.