This is the end

I have prepared a lot of emails and notes since January. There are 107 of them in my draft mail. Silly me. I don't understand a lot of things about you. I always tell you how I feel what I feel but I rarely asked you how you feel, what is that you feel, how's your life and what are you worried about? How is your week where are you what are you doing whom are you doing with are you having fun do you miss me as I miss you? I worried about asking these mundane and intrusive questions. I didn't want you to think that I was being noisy. I used to ask you to call me when you are on the road but you never called. I then realized ah this was not that kind of relationship -This is the kind that he would pop in and pop out of my life and I'd be OK with it because really that's the kind I wanted, right?

When I think of you I often think about you having sex with me and how you wrap your arms around me while still inside of me. I don’t know anything else besides that about you. But that’s all I needed to hold on to the image of you.

One day when I sat at my therapist’s office, I began to notice that my happiness odometer was based on how soon I'd see you again. It was not about me but about my state of being in relation to how close or how far you orbited my space. Most of the time, you orbited far and away and I had no idea whether we'd collide again. 

One time I went into her office and told her that you told me that you loved me. I didn't know (or think) I loved you then. But I was so happy that my therapist wrote on her notebook about that, about me being a little too happy. I resented her for that. For a while she talked about how I should think about leaving this relationship, for it's toxic for me, to love someone I cannot or should not love, I thought of terminating my relationship with her. A friend, who thought I was out of my mind for wanting to be with you, told me straight up and I got so upset with him that I no longer wanted to be his friend. We had been friends for 17 years before that. Those were the little things. My close circle of girlfriends thought that I was being stupid and irresponsible, but they loved me anyway even though I kept you in my life.  Eventually you became part of my life. Like sun, air, rain, flowers, children, and you.

One day my therapist asked me if I knew what you thought of this relationship. I told her no, I had not thought of it. She said, "But you are married. And he knows that you'd never leave your husband." I looked at her, horrified. I had never thought of that. I just knew that I wanted and needed you in my life. I can hardly breath with the thought of you no longer in my life. You introduced me to Lorre Moore. And one of my favorite quotes was "This is what happened in love. One of you cried a lot and then both of you grew sarcastic." I did both and I hated myself for being so cliché. 

I have never ever been with anyone in my entire life whom I felt so sexually connected with. The thought of losing that element from my life forever suffocated me. I can’t breath. I have never felt this way before and I am afraid that I’d never feel that way again. That thought also frightened me. It is as if I had belonged somewhere. My kinks, my preferences, my weirdness, all of that seemed normal when I was with you.

Then time. Distance. More time. More distance. I began to find distractions to keep me mentally occupied. I began to adjust the expectations as the intervals between our meetings lengthened. I began to feel that you no longer wanted me. I began to panic until you came back into my life and I could breath again. Then the pattern repeated.

I fear one day you’d tell me that you are involved with someone else. You can’t be with me anymore. I fear that day is near the longer I don’t see you. And I cry even more.  

No one has told me that to fall in love is to suffer. I don’t like that kind of emotion. The suffering kind.

So I thought, I need to leave, I need to let you to let me go.