Not you: Part 2

I sent in a story titled Not You on November 16th. I wish he could see it and know it was me. 
He lives alone and works as a teacher, he tells me how hard it is, how frustrated he is during these times, how he’s developed Insomnia and anxiety. 
I’m here, 200 miles away feeling utterly useless and wishing more than anything that I could go to him. We speak less but when we do it breaks my heart every time. He thinks he’s a shadow of the man he was, the man I knew. But I don’t see it. I just love him, I really fucking love him.