I don't know. It is the look he gave me, the mention of wanting to stay committed to the family and stay in the house...he seemed so sad to hear me set up those boundaries, say that I just couldn't stand to be in his presence anymore with the sitch like this, and don't know if I can ever do it, don't know if I could survive it. I said I don't even know / think that we can be friends.
Like I told him, I have no expectations that he will read / look at the books. It doesn't really matter right now, as I am accepting and acting from where he has told me he is. I believe him. I won't ask about the books (I actually don't plan on talking with him at all for the rest of the week), or any other signs of hope.
Someone once said that detachment is eliminating all expectations and the majority of the hope you have left; leaving just a glimmer somewhere deep in your heart, in case the WAS turns around. I don't know if it is there, anymore. And maybe that is for the best.
