Imperfect

Donathen my love,
I have been coughing, choking, asthma returning and it will not go.
I know that the lungs represent grief in Chinese Medicine. Went to an acupuncturist today, and she was not surprised that I am having trouble healing physically. You are gone from my life, and I have not even hit the half-way mark of getting this mammoth loss of your death, this grief,  up and out of me.
I keep thinking of the affair. It keeps coming up. It keeps haunting me. I read our old emails and how we struggled, and how you lost me. And how drugs took you back. And how you held onto all of the pain of trying to help me, and that when I was finally helped, and sober, you could not find yourself. I re-lived your realizations about how living out your rock star fantasy only brought you pain, and how you had finally found your path through all of our suffering and were coming out the other side. You were on your way. I was so happy for you. We were imperfect. I am imperfect. Love is imperfect and so is life. And it is painful to realize how much we wasted. It is painful to read all of our hopes, dreams, nastiness, love, fury, rage, helplessness, belief, talent, struggle, loss, respect, toxicity,friendship, begging, trying, coming to terms, realizations and growth. And it is completely imperfect. But it is real. And it is two people who did not give up on one another. And it is my alcohol addiction, and it is your co-dependency, and then it is your pot addiction, and other addictions and obsessions that made me draw the line. "No" is a word I could use. You never were good at using that word with me. You spoiled me. You pampered me. Babied me. How I loved you for that. How you suffered because of it. No, we were imperfect in love. But that is what love is here on earth. I am angry. I am hurt. I am jealous of anyone taking you away from me. But she really didn't. You and I never were apart. Not in our souls. Never apart. Earth love is so very complicated. All of our baggage comes with us. All of our weak natures, and disturbed fantasies. All of our expectations, and demands. Then, that all gets stripped away when we lose one another. I miss you my imperfect man. I miss our struggles. I don't know how it would have worked, if it would have but I am angry that I don't have the opportunity to experience that. I am angry at myself for wasting energy on trying not to feel, cause both of us did that and we both came to the realization that one way or another, it's going to happen. We are going to feel. We are going to experience pain. It always catches up I hate you for lying to me. I hate myself for lying to myself. I love you anyway.I have to forgive you and myself. Because nothing actually broke our love. It was not perfect.  Imperfect. Well worn love.f