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Hi Project,

It's a bit of time that I ask myself some questions to which I cannot find an answer. I don’t have a boyfriend and I have not looked for one for years, but I had a boyfriend, the only one in my life. Now at 45, after years since we broke up, I keep thinking of him. He still calls me on the phone from time to time and I have the impression that he is not well. Years ago he focused on a guy's search and on sex. He also had risky behaviors that doesn’t seem to have caused any consequences, it was a really convulsive phase, but in the end he remained alone. I fear that he may slip into depression or worse that he has already slipped. Making a serious talk with him is difficult if not impossible, he is aggressive but not violent, neurotic, he reacts impulsively, nevertheless something is left between us. I keep thinking of him very often, when I don’t hear him for a longer period a tremendous anxiety takes me, but sooner or later he calls me and then for a while I feel calmer. He's not my boyfriend anymore and maybe he's never been, but I think he's never been anyone's boyfriend, I think nobody's been able to make him feel really good. He trusts me, he speaks to me freely, he is not afraid to show me his weaknesses because he knows I will not leave him alone. Some time ago I was also sure of the fact that I would never leave him alone and that I could spend my life for him, then, year after year, this certainty began to falter. I love him and if I could live with him and for him I would feel fulfilled, at least I still think so, but the passing of time made me realize that we will never be together, that he will continue to dream things and people that don’t exist and I will always be just an outlet valve in the worst moments. A role of this kind should be tight, but I would accept it at the end, as I have always accepted it, but years ago I thought, or better I hoped that it could serve something, I thought that I was a medicine to overcome the disease, but I’m aware that I only serve to alleviate the pain, but I cannot change anything substantial. It takes me a kind of discouragement because I see that the years pass and not only things don’t improve, but they are getting worse, that he is more and more alone, that every now and then begins to feel abandoned even by me and that our relationship tends to become more and more faint, as if it were just fading and this scares me. I found my own balance, especially because I work, he doesn’t have a stable job and he adapts to do everything to make ends meet but it is like he stopped hoping for the future. I love him, I'm terrified by the idea that he can think that I want to do a good deed by standing by him. He for me, despite the many doubts, is still a fundamental person, but I think that for him I’m much less, something more than zero, this is true, but still someone who cannot change his life. If I ask myself, today as today, what I would be willing to do for him, I answer that I would be willing to do very little, because what I would like is not what he wants, and this will not change. I think that more than a meeting of people our is a meeting of two dreams, I have embodied my dream in him, even if he perhaps has nothing to do with my dream and he has embodied in me some of his expectations to which I do everything to match, but this is not a love story. When I see him now, with some white hair, with a little belly, with his neglected appearance, I think that he is not even the shadow of the handsome guy who he was but in the end I'm quite wasted too, a man of half age who in life has not achieved anything serious and above all anything of his own, who has fallen in love with a guy but has failed to pull him out of the pit of melancholy. I don’t know if this is the story of a failure, Project, but sometimes I feel really lost. After all, each of us is deceived by his own dreams and ends up losing touch with reality, but this is not a consolation. I'm not enough for him, I'm not his ideal guy, he always told me, he also told me that he loves me, but wants to be free, stray, alone, it's like he has a craving to get into trouble. Do you know why I’m writing to you, Project? It's easy to say: he has not called me for 15 days and I begin to feel badly, I keep thinking of him and I need to vent myself, but when I say that I think of him I mean that I think of him with worry, because I know that he doesn’t feel good. Project, sometimes I cannot keep going on, I'm afraid something might happen to him, that moments of ugly melancholy can assail him and make him lose control of himself. And I, who always told him that I love him, what do I do? I should really work hard for him, but I don’t know how and then I let the time go by and I don’t do anything and so I too slide in the pit of depression. Only a phone call could reassure me, but that phone call doesn’t come because he is lost in who knows what melancholy or in who knows what unrealistic hopes, unrealistic like mine. Is this love, Project? Of course it is something that tears me internally. I leave you, now, if you want, send me two lines.

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