Fake it if you feel like affection
It doesn't even matter now.
Sitting in the car. Sitting at that bar. It's all the same now. One endless day dragging on into another endless night. You tried to explain it all, tried to tell him that it wouldn't always be so hard. It wouldn't always feel like you were just drifting about letting the waves wash over you instead of guide you to the safety of the shore. Your smile is supposed to offer some sort of solace, some relief that surely your smile can just disarm that fear.
But you lied. You are lying to him as you sit there in the bar trying to bring up stories of a life you left in the darkness a long time ago. You're trying not to tell him about the pain you go through every single time you come back. You want it to be easy for him, for him to understand that the pain gets easier... that it dulls with time... with love... with the right combination of alcohol and sex. But you know it's just more lies.
So when you sit there in the car beside him and breath in deep, you actually find yourself hoping that this time it might stick. That this time you'll be able to let go and the darkness will swallow you whole. That the pain of life will be just a memory fading like all the other times before it. He's dying beside you and every instinct in your gut tells you that you can save him, that you can make him see that the darkness isn't what he wants.
But it's what you want, and in that moment you envy him for the fact that when he dies he's not going to have to come back.
The darkness comes over you and it's just like it always is. You feel that slip of peace for just a single moment before you're ripped right back to the light of day. Sometimes you almost think your palms might have been cut open from the dragging across the bottom of it all.
Instead you just step out of the car and move down the street. You'll go on pretending you belong... pretending that this life is what you deserve. You'll keep up the lie because otherwise it's just too much pain... even for you.