When I bite my thumb nail, he knows I’m upset, unhappy. He picks up when my mood drops but he doesn’t watch me and notice it, he can sense it. This is what love means to me, and to us. The ability to pick up these things. My restlessness becomes his restlessness, and when I’m at my worst, he is the only one who can calm me down. He’s not my punching bag, but he’s always there when I’ve fallen into the abyss. He provides the rope to pull me out of the inevitable. This is what one needs; a rope to pull you out of the abyss, and across the chasm.