Loved

I am constantly asking him to define us. With words, with actions. Perhaps I need the reassurance that this is for real. I'm really starting to open up with him. I had a patient unexpectedly code on me last night after I had just admitted him to my floor. We worked on him for 40 minutes and we just couldn't save him. I deal with death all the time- but the closeness of the family, the helplessness I felt with this one- really had an impact on me. Usually I would of sucked it up and went on- I did, even. But I called him when I got out of work. I just talked and he let me. It felt good, to talk and not just bottle it up. I of course denied the impact on me- true to nature. But he knew, he knows. And he allows me to act as emotionless and tough as I need to. Because he knows- later this week when I'm in his arms again he'll make me feel. I can't wait to lose myself in him. We have morphed into something I never thought possible. It is more than the sweet pain he gives me. It is more than fucking. It is the complete dynamic of what we are. It is being his, because of these things, despite these things. I never knew losing myself in someone could be so freeing. I am better because of him, and I'll be better still. I am growing in my slavery. He is the pinnacle of my world.