I hate not seeing him when he's ill.
I hate it when he cries.
I hate that he won't talk to me when he's stressed.
I hate it when I can't put my arms around him and tell him it's all going to be alright.
I hate not being able to make sure he eats and doesn't live off whiskey.
I hate it when he doesn't talk to me.
I hate being so far away.
I hate it when I wake up reaching for him across the pillow.
I hate that he doesn't look after himself.
I love that he worries about others.
I love the anticipation of knowing that I will wake up next to him in a week, a month, a day.
I love the sound of his voice.
I love that he shows emotion.
I love that he hates upsetting me.
I love that he cares.
I love that he loves.
I love him.
I just wish it was easy and simple and clear and that he was close and well and happy.
But I know that I wouldn't change him for the world.