When I had him, I managed to convince myself I didn't want him, for reasons that seemed so huge at the time, and so insignificant afterwards. In the very act of accepting that I had convinced myself and not arguing, he proved I was wrong. Then I didn't have him, and continued to discover how wrong I was with every subsequent failure. We reconciled, and grew closer than ever before, finding new flaws in each other but seeing new beauty at every step closer. And then inevitably we tried again, and suddenly once again the flaws loomed large and the beauty was lost. And now we cycle away once again, and once again the flaws disappear and the beauty is all I can see.
I love him, but only at arm's length. I am the worst person in the world, and we are better off apart for that reason alone.