It's painful to watch them walk away. When the words you want to say are what you hope will keep them there, yet what might hasten their exodus. A special kind of pain, reserved for those who nearly yearn for it, who hold it close when it hits. They are happy to own something, to have control over this at least. It is a circumstance composed of at leasts, and you have gotten used to it by now. This is what it is. And, yes, you could take the steps to change it but that way lies uncertainty, that way there be dragons. And, yes, here you may be standing in your own living hell but at least the fire is one you've stoked yourself. At least this devil you know by name.
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