I have so much to say and so much to get out of my brain and I don't know if any of this is going to be in a comprehensible stream of thought or not but I'll do my best. I have all of this built up shit within myselft that I want to say and to get out of my soul and mind, but to you it’s just words. Also, know that I've been writing this for a few days so one paragraph might not flow neatly into the next one. I hope it still makes sense. I'm not really sure how to start either so that's going to be sloppy too. 

I am in a lot of pain. You know I have been for a long time since I was a teenager of even before that. I have little to no self-esteem sometimes, I've had that since I was in second grade. I have always had a lot of guilt and shame and of course one helped to fuel the other. I lied to you about Antarctica because I was ashamed of where I was in my life at the age I was. You're the age I was now when we first met, imagine being broke and living with you mother and brothers (sister) that you hate. I hated myself and was ashamed. That doesn't mean I should've lied to you, but I did because I didn't think you would want anything to do with me otherwise. I'm sorry that that's how our relationship started. When you left for the Netherlands you said you felt like there was a drop in your libido, again when you got back, and even more, when you found out I was lying. A few months after you got back you changed how we would kiss each other for the rest of our relationship. I couldn't do anything with my tongue, or with your lips. I remember it vividly, we were parked at the old apartment on the opposite side of the parking lot facing away from the apartment. We started to kiss a little and you got nervous, you asked me not to use my tongue anymore, then asked not to do anything with your lips anymore. And that was it. For the next 3.5 years, I couldn't kiss the woman I loved.  We couldn't kiss during sex, or when we made love, the few and far between times that we did. We were in love but it just felt like we were fucking to fuck. I just had to hold all of that in. And that was before you found out I was lying too you so that had something to do with something entirely different that we don't know about. So we still have no fucking idea why you felt that way towards me. Then we stopped having sex for 8, 9, 10, 14 months at a time. You could see that when you were scared of my touch that it hurt me but you still refused to get help. I felt like a monster like I was ugly, hideous, undeserving of you, or you just didn't want me anymore. That didn't help my self-esteem, guilt, or shame. I wish I would've told you sooner but I didn't because I thought you would leave me or realize how shitty I was. So I told you it was ok and that I would help you. I really believed it was going to be ok, and I really did want to help. And I did for almost four years, but it never got better and it never changed. 

I remember you once told me maybe you weren't attracted to me anymore, that really didn't help my self-esteem. But I stayed because I loved you and thought it was just your anxiety talking and things would get better, they never did. You then told me that maybe you're not attracted to me because of the way I dressed, another ding to my self-esteem. But why would I dress nicely if you thought I was ugly, and didn't even want me to touch you. But I stayed because I loved you and thought it was just your anxiety and thought maybe you were right, maybe I was ugly and didn’t dress nicely. I went clothes shopping with you, I wore and bought V-neck shirts that I didn't like and couldn't really afford because I thought maybe you would find me attractive again or at least let me touch you. But things never got better. I started working out when I worked at the watering bowl, I lost almost 40llbs!! I thought yes maybe just maybe that will be enough, maybe I'll be attractive enough again maybe she’ll see me. But I wasn't and it didn't' help and it didn't change anything. I went to therapy that cost me $100 a visit when I was making $7.80/hr because I thought I was the problem, I thought I was the reason for everything being wrong. Nothing changed. You told me you didn't' think I was very smart, another ding to my self-esteem, but I still stayed because I thought maybe if I go to school and showed you I can be smart she'll find me attractive again. I got my GPA up to a 3.5, I never missed class, I was almost going to get honors credits, I was in the honor society, I got a fucking who's who award whatever that is, still, nothing changed. I tried to cook dinner more, clean more, take care of you more, give you more space. But nothing changed. If anything, things got worse. And I know I was gross sometimes but that's just sort of a side effect of living with somebody who isn't attracted to you anymore so I thought fuck it, and because I was so depressed that I just didn't care anymore. I can't even remember the last time we sexted or either of us sent each other noodz. It's like I had a small form of Stockholm syndrome. I just wanted your approval. I remember telling you I felt like I robbed you of your early 20s because our relationship wasn’t what it should’ve been. Now a part of me feels like I lost my late 20s because I was taken for granted.

I begged you to go to therapy, and you didn't because you were afraid of how much it would hurt. I remember that night too because I remember you crying, me telling you it's ok and to take your time, then you going to bed while I stayed up in the living room and cried because I didn't know what to do anymore. I had given so much just for a glimpse of your affection and you weren't willing to go to therapy to see if maybe you were the problem, to maybe help the relationship heal. After all that I did to help, you fought against your own help and our own help. I was still supportive and would back off for a while. Again I should've told you, but in my head, you were the victim, you were the one that needed help so it was ok for you to go at your own pace. Months would go by and we would hit a rut and I would ask you again to go to therapy and again and again and again and again you refused. I gave all of myself to you for four years but my pain wasn’t enough to overcome yours to go to therapy. It made me feel like I wasn't worth it like I wasn't good enough. I went through so much pain and discomfort to try to make you happy for so many years, and when you told me over and over you wouldn't get help it broke my fuckin heart. I loved you so much and did so many things that I didn't want to just to make you happy and I couldn't get anything in return. At least not for a long time. Do you remember those few months when the slightest touch would scare you and make you jump and flinch and I had to watch my every move while I was around you to make sure I didn't accidentally bump into you? Do you have any idea how hard that is to love somebody but be afraid of them at the same time? I was afraid to touch you, to kiss you, to hug you, to cuddle with you, to even be in the same room as you. It tore me the fuck apart. I stayed and emotionally supported you for so long, I gave you confidence when you didn't have any, I always did my best to cheer you up when you were sad, I took care of you when you were sick, I would talk to you about work and feeling awkward and tried to make you believe you were ok, I helped you through your cancer scare, through deciding if you should work at Bruton Strobe or not, I stayed after rejection and rejection and rejection from the person I loved and cared about. I was there for you for and kept my word for almost 4 years. I guess through caring for you and trying to always be there for you I forgot that I was special too. I forgot to take care of myself for me and not just for you and us.

I cheated on you one time which is one time too many, but I didn't cheat because of sex. It was never ever and has never been about sex. I told you that and it's still true, we could've not had sex for the rest of our lives and I would've been fine. If it was about sex I would’ve cheated while you were studying abroad, while you were visiting Springfield or any other time, but I didn’t because it wasn’t about the sex. I cheated because I didn't want to feel like a monster anymore because I didn't want to feel ugly anymore because I was able to feel relaxed around another person, even though it didn't work out anyway because I didn't feel like I was hurting somebody else by accidentally bumping into them. I was still nervous and anxious anyway so it was all embarrassing. And now that's just sort of who I am. Instead of going on tinder dates and having sex or at least making out like you are now that you're all fixed, I start to get mini panic attacks and the night ends with me sitting in the back of an uber crying my eyes out because I still feel broken and like I'm going to hurt somebody just because I bumped into them or touched them on accident. I don't know how to get past that. You say talk to my therapist like it's that easy for me, I only get to see one for 30 minutes every two weeks, I don't have one on my phone like you do. It's a bit harder for me to get these things off my chest because of time and money. The worst part of us breaking up and knowing you're with other people is that you have nothing to base your trust for them on. At least with me you knew I would stop when you said stop, I wouldn't hurt you, and things would be fine. After your anxiety started we only had sex in one position so that you could be in control. But I'm sure you let him touch you, kiss you, and sleep with you the way he wanted and in ways I haven't in years. I haven't really kissed the person I loved in years! And with really no base of trust, you just allowed yourself to be relaxed with a stranger, something you couldn't do with your boyfriend of four years. Something you couldn’t allo