It would seem that every time you relapse, it would become easier to handle, easier to grasp.
However, it becomes harder each time. My feelings harden, an awkward gap wedges itself between you an I. It steals hope from me of you.
It sits on your shoulder like the devil. He points and laughs at me..He shouts out, "Why do you even bother?"
"She makes her own choices, and she choses me, not you". 
And this is what happens every time. 
And so it goes.