She harps on you. You're still with her. But we can't have much more than we have because...because of the bruises on my leg. And shoulder. And arms and foot.

You just stay miserable with her because we can't be anything together. I don't think it would matter. I don't think I could put you through hell like she does. And you couldn't handle that. Misery. Loves. Company.

And that's another reason why I don't want to be with you long term. I don't want to be miserable. But I'm glad for what we do have. When it's good. It's for now. I don't want to own or be owned. Least of all by you. But we have what we have. And when it's good, it's bliss. I may be a little torn but in all honesty you're really no prize anyway.