I’ve never been inside his head so I’m not sure how it affects him, but I know that his disease is slowly killing me. I try to understand when he says he wishes he were dead. I try not to take it to heart when he talks at me through his teeth in a fit of rage. I try to be compassionate when a minor irritation ruins his whole day. I try and I try. Some days I want to be the one that sleeps for 16 hours. Some days I want to be the one that can bury my head under the covers and shut everyone out. Some days I just want it to be about me.