His bipolar heart is a bottomless pit that greedily consumes and takes, yet never is truly capable of giving. It is all about him and how he feels that moment; happy, sad, angry, hateful, irritated, lonely, worried, vengeful, homicidal, rageful. All that registers in his mind are his own emotions. You are not allowed to have feelings yourself because his are so much more overpowering and important. You have to be the tender and comforter of his . You are in a perpetual state of hyper-awareness of his moods and needs. You react, soothe, and calm. You are the pill. You cannot experience hurt, anger, sorrow, or joy. He overwhelmingly has it for the both of you.Over time, you shut down all your feelings one by one, like flipping a row of switches on a computer.You are a robot. You become blank so as not to cause an episode or reaction. You are to blame, you accept the blame, you live the blame. You calmly accept your punishment because its easier to reason in your head. After an episode of rage, you feel like a bomb blast victim walking around dazed and confused, wearing the ashy soot of his demeaning words, and covered in the figurative scrapes and bruises of sheer mental torment. Somewhere deeply hidden inside you is that stubborn tiny ember of yourself that you keep protected from him and from being seen because you know he will crush it. It’s all that is left of who you were and if it goes out, you will be dead completely. You push it down farther and deeper where he will never get to it.