Why do I do this?

It was gone. It really died
The phone that was once attached to my ear now just seemed like a hunk of plastic.
The buzzing on the other line was much louder than his actual voice, and when he spoke it was in whispered sighs.

He thinks he's exhausted. He knows nothing of being weary. As the days count down until the end, they seem to get longer, not shorter. Like every minute subtracted is really being added.

And I am sick. Very sick. I'm either mentally sick which makes me physically sick, or I am physically sick which causes a mental sickness. Either way, I am sick. My body, mind, soul, and heart are all completely wiped out.

I can't believe I ever thought I needed him. He is a pathetic creature. He knows nothing more than the "superficial losers" he makes fun of and judges. Even if they are rich and popular. They're still people with feelings, not any less then him. In fact, they probably know more than him. I am far above him, and he is a pathetic worm.

But I am the pathetic one, really. I am far below him. Lower than the earth. Because I need him. I need such a pathetic worm, and what makes me more pathetic is that I lie about it. And I am still right by his side, fighting his battles while he sips a soft drink. And I am weary. He thinks he's tired, but only his eyes are getting heavy. For he must watch me falling to the ground more gradually every day, all for him, and that makes his vision weary. Even if he does not know that is the cause of his weariness.

And all the while, he blames me.