It's scary. It’s suffocating. But I stay with him because I love him. I know he loves me too. And sometimes I feel guilty for my pathetic incapacity to hide this fear from him. I know it upsets him as he sees this show of fear a mockery, a vile accusation of the mental disease that he thinks he doesn't have. But he tries to hold it in, like how I try to restrain my fear. Afterall, we both know we love each other deep down.