He's not always present.
A lot of the time, he is.
It's lovely, yet, it can be painful.
He'll tell you the truth, whatever that may be. Whatever he needs. And you'll respect it. It will pain you both.
You'll want to tear your heart out. He'll make you cry, even if it isn't really his fault, because it is yours.
Forward, you'll say to yourself. You wanted his presence. But you knew it wasn't right. And nothing you did seemed right.
He could be a martyr. You are the sinner. Baptism has nothing on this shit.
Nothing is really "wrong", is it? But you'll tear yourself apart anyway, believing what you were taught, what he feels, is everything that makes you that sinner. May you burn in Hell. This is your forever Limbo, and you're scratching and pawing at everything. Tread on your skin, bring upon the raw flesh to feel some substance of what is this life, but only for a brief moment. Because the pain doesn't last, and the stinging doesn't last, either.