I've been my dad. I've worn you down so much that you don't respond when I'm going off. I am very afraid I have fundamentally broken our relationship in a subtle but important way. I don't know how to fix it. I don't even know if you want me to fix it.

But I need to be functional. At the very least I need to hide my dysfunction better. This probably won't be the last one of these I do but I have already done the last one I will direct you to. Because what you have confirmed for me is that I have let you down. You blame yourself but it was my fault. I was so fucking selfish. I wanted you so much that I killed your desire for me. It's been a long time since you've said you missed me. That's my fault.

I wish I could make you happy. Unfortunately, I can't control how you feel. All I could do is make you feel worse. I can control myself, though, and make sure I tell you the truth. So here is a truth that I never intend to tell you again. I don't believe we'll still be together in six months. I think I have poisoned our relationship. I don't want it to get worse, though. Your time with me has been bad enough. So I will never let this belief drag me down into a pit so far that I drag you with me again.

I solemnly swear I will not keep making your life worse. I would rather become addicted to valium than do that to you. I will probably cry a lot in private but never in front of you. I have been so bad that you don't even want to talk to me on MSN. I'm so profoundly sorry for that.I just hope that I won't be one of your worse boyfriends. 

I know you love me. And for what it's worth, as useless as it felt trying to give me advice and encouragement, it made me feel infinitely better than nothing. I truly regret that I have pushed you away and I say that as somebody who has very few real regrets. However long the remainder of our relationship is, I hope you find it pleasant. Less of a chore, at least.

I've been feeling terrible for a while now which has been abundantly clear. I thought I would list and briefly explain all of my major insecurities relating to our relationship. I don't expect you to do anything about it. I just think you deserve to know. So, in no particular order:

I feel that while you love me (which I believe because you have said so and all of your actions have been consistent with such claims), I suspect quite strongly you don't want to be with me. You've never wanted to discuss us even seeing each other let alone moving in with one another. You've been so averse to discussing it that I don't even try any more. It makes me feel sad and insecure. It often undercuts any pleasant daydreams I would have about our life together. 

In a vaguely related vein, I've almost been finding a sense of relief in that. I can't think of anything I could offer you as a husband or the boys as a father. I suspect you recognise this on one level, which is why you never even inform me when you're having a difficult time until after it's passed (if you tell me at all). What things I do offer won't be useful to any of you because you're too good a mother to ever make my dysfunctional skill set useful. For quite a while I avoided feeling the worst of this by saving for our future (at one stage having around $7,000) but in the months since my mum died I've even lost that. While I'm not broke yet, I've managed to lose all but a few hundred dollars of that. A man should provide for his family and I fail to provide even on the shallowest of levels. I'd probably fail you more if given the chance.

I also believe that you find me very unattractive. It seems like the most reasonable explanation for why you only ever wanted to video chat a few times. This was another situation where your desire to avoid doing it was so strong I eventually gave up on requesting altogether. The exception was for my birthday and I believe you didn't want to do it then. I don't hold you responsible for it not happening, though, because I was honestly having serious issues with even the idea of guilting you into doing it and that contributed to me pulling out. This, like us ever actually being together, is a topic you're happy to discuss as a vague and distant future event but never as an imminent or actual one.

I fear that my inadequacies have reached a point where you don't even want to talk to me on the phone any more. That's something I fear so much it actually hurts. Often, it has felt like calling you is the only time I've ever been able to actually have you for myself. You seem to always prefer spending time with your friends, leaving me at the bottom of a long list of priorities, and now I've proven so inadequate that I'm losing the one bit of you that I occasionally had completely. I know you'd sometimes hang up on me because you'd rather sleep or you had to look after the boys or you were just sick of me or whatever but I really miss it.

There's probably other stuff too. That's all I can think of now. Putting it all down makes me feel like an asshole, not to mention exceedingly vulnerable. I don't expect you to do anything about it, though. I will send you a link to this after you go to bed because I can't bring myself to do it directly. I know talking to you indirectly usually means that we both pretend I didn't say anything but I would truthfully feel worse if I made you feel obligated to address any of this. At the end of the day, none of my feelings on this stuff even matters. I love you. Will always love you. Nothing will make me want to not be with you. If I hadn't felt so terrible lately, I would have kept suppressing this shit like it should be.

I don't really expect anything to come from this. I'll just say that up front. This attempt at communication is less about you than it is about me. It's part of that whole trying not to hate myself thing. Seems that in order not to hate yourself you have to value yourself. Part of that is believing (or at least, like I am here, acting like you believe) that your thoughts and feelings have value simply because they're your thoughts and feelings. That does seem to be the critical element in self worth from what I've seen. It seems logical enough. I guess you just have to pretend things like this until you can start believing it. From here, I'll use my handy dandy framework for communication.

Step 1: The Facts Of The Issue.

Since my mother's death, I have felt increasingly alone. For all that it was, without question, a net positive for my life the emotional impact has been disruptive. I lost my home, the life I'd known for four years, my mother (as shitty as she was) and worst of all I lost my principles. Her death (or more accurately, that it was caused by something that I should have stopped) ruined the only pillar I had built my life around. Unflinching and unfailing commitment to duty. It wasn't my fault but it was an easily predicted and simply prevented problem that was my responsibility. So a big part of who I was died with her.

Understandably, I wanted to turn to the few people I both cared about and trusted enough to be vulnerable with. You, Glenn, Sam and Charlie. Even now, I still feel compelled to turn to you all. Unfortunately, various things have prevented that.

With Charlie, I don't want to disrupt his already busy life. He's bipolar and I believe that his attempts to carry me through grief and depression would hurt him a lot. He'd try but he'd also blame himself for the fact that I didn't improve.

With Sam, he has a job, a partner and two kids under four to look after. I leaned on him most but this is the man who almost single-handedly dragged me out of my suicidal funk post-Heather when I found myself without friends, hope or goals. It was because of him that I went on the anti-depressants. He has done enough for me that I simply can't lean on him to that extent again, not when he has to look after so many things of his own.

With Glenn, he revealed himself to be less than I thought he was. Not a bad person by any stretch but enough less that I no longer trust him. I know a lot of decent people. That's not enough for me to trust somebody.

With you, first there was my emotional turmoil that kept me away. In my grief, I couldn't see anything in myself that you would want so I couldn't believe you wanted to be there for me. Then there were a series of events, some things within your control and a many out of them, that made communication difficult. 

My aunt is certainly trustworthy enough but she lost a sister and gained children. While she's infinitely more optimistic than I am, she's also recovering from Chronic Fatigue so I simply won't burden her on top of what she's already taken on. Hell, most of what she took on came straight off my shoulders. I won't make that worse for her.

All of this has led to me feeling alone. So alone, in fact, that the only times I have felt more alone were the two closest times I came to suicide. I have not been suicidal this time but I have begun wistfully thinking of death again which is always a sign things aren't going well in my emotional life. I'm just profoundly tired of fighting my own demons, over and over again. Fighting them alone is worse.

Step 2: The Why I Think Shit Is How Shit Is.

This one is both simple and complex. On the simple side, my mum did just die and I have been feeling isolated. For a person already inclined to solitude and stoicism (externally, at any rate), it seems very likely that I would feel this way. Looking at it all written down, I'm not terribly surprised by any of the things there. It's practically cliche. On the more complex side, there are a variety of aspects.

With Glenn, I believe he thinks there is a difference between the day to day events and the life changing events. Or more accurately, he believes there is a disconnect between those things. In his mind, the fact that he is so unreliable that I haven't seen from him in close to two weeks and have only heard from him twice (both times saying he would be home tomorrow/soon, both times without following through) does not make him unreliable in a grand sense. Surely, I suspect he thinks, I know that he would be there if I really needed him.

For a potentially smart guy, Glenn can be a real dumb fuck. He doesn't get the fact that he doesn't get to choose when something really matters to me. I could probably drill it into him but he's going through a bunch of his own shit and he's always been a selfish thinker. Any generosity from him comes when he has time to actually think but given how desperately he avoids his own emotions, he hasn't been thinking for quite a while. The truth is that I'm tired of guiding him, shaping him, protecting him. It's not my job any more. I was there for him unconditionally for almost ten years. If I can't get six months of consideration when my mum dies, I've reached the point where I am done fighting for it.

With you, it's a little trickier. You matter more to me than anybody. There are people, notably my sisters but also some other members of my family, that I will be there for unconditionally. You, and your boys, are the only person[s] I want to be there for unconditionally. That importance, the fact that you have essentially unrestricted access to the most vulnerable parts of me, means that my personal demons really like to arc up around you. 

Generally speaking, anxiety and depression lead to cycles of worry and pessimism about the things that matter to you most. For me, that used to be the idea that I failed everyone important in my life and that my efforts only made things worse. Now, I worry that I have failed you or that you don't love me or perhaps even that you actually loathe me. It's not about the rationality of any particular idea. I'm smart and I know stories and people. I can construct a rationalisation for anything.

Being aware of that, I fight it. On a good day, I'm unmoved. On a bad day, I lose and I'm convinced to some degree. The degree depends entirely on the extent of the loss. The real trouble, though, the part that really fucks my mind, is that I might actually be right. Not entirely, of course, but more than once my fears and paranoia have highlighted a flaw that is very real. Highlighted and embellished. 

I now believe that you don't trust me. More accurately, that you don't trust me to the extent that is needed for a healthy relationship. I think it's perfectly rational for you to have trust issues. True, deep trust makes you powerfully vulnerable. Far, far too many people in your life have abused the shit out of your vulnerability. And if our relationship is evidence to anything, it's the fact that I'm emotionally unstable. I don't like this idea but it makes sense.

It would explain why we almost don't talk if I don't go out of my way to try and force a conversation. We'll go nearly a week without saying a word if I don't track you down. Then you'll often (but not always) say you miss me and that confuses me. I'm usually right here. I've made numerous offers to make myself even more easily accessible for you and you've always refused.

It would explain why you never wanted to meet my friends, never wanted to introduce me to yours and refused my every effort to share in your life more. Wouldn't directly explain why you would agree to things (playing various games with me, doing various things with me) and consistently never follow through but it would be congruent.

It would explain why you've never wanted to have a real discussion about a future together. Soft, fuzzy hypotheticals, sure. Any reference to a concrete future and no dice. At this point, I can't even believe we'll have that future on my best days. When I'm consistently put behind stuff like impromptu and excessive requests for you to RP with some moderate friends, I can't imagine that you would actually uproot your kids (the most important things in your life) and move around the world. It feels like a struggle to get you on the phone for half an hour. That is beyond the impossible.

Of course, this isn't the only possible explanation for the way things are. Which is part of my problem. It's the one that seems most reasonable to me but the way you talk to me (when you actually talk to me) often seems inconsistent with it. You often seem unaware (or, on bad days, uncaring) of the fact that I often have real trouble. 

This theory is just ultimately reinforced at every level by one simple fact. You don't talk to me. I don't mean you never have a conversation with me (although in the last four months that's almost been true, depressingly). I mean that you never talk to me about how you feel. If you're unwell, I find out about if when I make you feel bad for not talking to me. On any given day, the people you RP with know more about your current emotional state than your boyfriend. 

Step 3: The How It Makes Me Feel.

Lonely.

That above anything else. One of the things that meant the most to me in our relationship was the fact that when I was with you, I didn't feel alone for the first time in my life. With Heather, with Sam, with Glenn, with everybody else who's mattered to me I would feel like I had someone who cared but with you I felt understood. You weren't just my best friend. You were the best friend I ever had. Connecting with you didn't feel like an effort to bridge an impossibly large gulf. It felt like... coming home. Like I was where I belonged, for the very first time in my life. Like I was where I was meant to be.

I admit that I haven't handled gradually losing that feeling very well. I've dealt with it poorly and expressed it worse. I fell into that very common, very human and very irrational emotional trap. I felt that you should have noticed the diminishing and eventual loss of this amazing emotional. I wanted you to do something, say something that said it mattered to you even a fraction of the amount that it mattered to me.

Thankfully, I remained in control of myself enough that I never blamed you for not being able to do it. As much as I might wish you could read my mind, I hope that I never expect you to. I certainly intend to never be upset or angry with you because you can't. But as I tried, weakly and fuzzily, to express these issues I found you weren't receptive. You might read all the things like this I send you but you comment on almost none of them so from my perspective you may as well have ignored it.

Which is also how I have felt. Ignored. That one isn't just you, it's also Glenn. Because it stings like a motherfucker to find that the person I believed was my brother, in truth if not in blood, wasn't there for me the way I was there for him. From being there every time he needed me, to "loaning" him quite a lot of money to effectively making his being able to live here a condition for my moving in, I have had his back. Over and over. No matter what stupid thing he did or said, he had me backing him up. And not only did he not notice most of what I did (which in itself is fine, I didn't do it for notice) but he barely valued most of what I did. 

So I also feel like I've lost a brother. Not completely and not necessarily forever but I doubt we will ever have the future I thought we would. I always pictured us being close, of raising one another's kids with them (although this was mostly pictured as me helping raise his kids than the reverse due to me, you know, not ever thinking I would have kids). Now, I don't know what to picture.

I also feel hurt and angry a lot of the time. At Glenn and at you. It might not be rational but it is what it is. It's actually probably a good thing, ultimately. For me to feel hurt and angry that means that I'm starting to think I actually deserve some consideration. If I truly believed I wasn't worth your time or attention, I wouldn't be upset or angry when I didn't get it.

But that's there too. With you, it's over little things because honestly that's all it feels like we have any more. We had what I thought was an important conversation the other day where we agreed that we both need to be better at asking for what we want. Then you got busy with other things but we agreed you'd ask me to run you through some dungeons later. It wasn't the fact that you didn't want me to run you through that upset me (maybe you didn't do it or maybe somebody else did it or maybe you were busy or whatever), it was the fact that again we had plans, however tentative, that you ignored.

It makes me feel unimportant because you do that a lot. I honestly don't think you realise how often you do it. I actually find I'm starting to dread special occasions. Christmas, birthday, Valentine's Day, anniversary. It's not because you don't get me a gift. I truly don't mind. I would love to get something but I don't expect anything. I get you something because I love you and want to give you something, not because I want a gift. The reason I dread it is because you usually promise something.

It doesn't even matter what it is. I always want it. Why wouldn't I? It's a gift from the woman I love. You say that you will get me something or do something for me and then I want it. And I start to hate myself because I know that I will be hurt and disappointed and sometimes eventually angry that I didn't get it. It's gotten so bad that now I ask for incredibly small things I want, not because I believe I'll get them but because they're small enough that I can believe that I'll get it. That belief is what I'm counting as my gift.

And I know that's fucked up. That's definitely not all on you. That's a disappointing childhood finding a new outlet. That's why I haven't really talked to you about it. I've mentioned that I prefer you promise (explicitly or implicitly) nothing ever than to fail to come through consistently because it makes me feel like this. Which is, terrible. And it's terrible way out of proportion with the actual thing.

Also, at this point, asking to see you on Skype does seem like an impossible dream. We did that a few times and I really enjoyed it and then we stopped. You never spoke about it or gave me a reason for it. It just never happened again. I asked a time or two but you quietly deflected. This is also something you do which hurts me. Not because that hurts much, it doesn't, but refusing to give me an answer or a reason means I fill in my own.

I never, ever assume something benign. It starts that way and declines. Examining the Skype thing, I believe it started with "She doesn't want to do it again so soon, probably wants to space it it out rather than get sick of it" and is currently somewhere around, "I was so profound a disappointment that a woman who only left a physically abusive relationship for the sake of her kids doesn't want to deal with me."

It gets there in baby steps.

Step 4: The What I Want Done About All This.

This is always the step I find hardest. The first three are just being honest. This is also being profoundly vulnerable. Don't worry, though, this is also the step that means I don't expect anything from any of this.

What I need is my partner back. My best friend. I need to not feel alone any more. I need to be able to believe that I will have a future worth having, a future with you. I need to matter. Not just to myself but also the people I love the most. I need to be more than the lowest priority, an afterthought, an occasional object of pity. I need for my grieving to be over. I need, I need, I need. 

Always so needy. Don't worry, I don't believe or expect any of it. As usual, I simply expect life to continue on due to inertia. Not believing that I will have any of this is what makes me wistfully think of dying again. That way, I won't have to feel... this.

Don't worry, I'm not suicidal. The drugs are still working. It's not wanting to die in the suicidal sense. I'm just tired of having to live when living keeps meaning that I feel like this. When I get tired enough, I don't want to sleep because you wake up from sleep. That's all this is. Nothing more serious.

For a long time now, I have not had very good self-esteem. There's a lot of reasons for it and I'm sure you know most of them by now seeing that you've known me for a long time. This was a fact that was exacerbated by the situation I was in. Essentially, it was so shitty where I was that I had to sacrifice or even actively expunge any part of myself that would interfere with my survival or my ability to be functional. It happened gradually but eventually, about a year before we got together, I'd reached a point where I was so hollow that I didn't even have it in me to be suicidal any more. 

What kept me going through a lot of that was my belief in duty. It's all that kept me going. I hated myself and often everyone around me and was frequently so depressed I wanted to veer into oncoming traffic every time I was in the car but my devotion to duty was absolute. I didn't like my duty. I didn't think my duty was particularly good, because looking after my mother ultimately made things worse. The moral thing probably would have been to let her fall. But I had a duty and I never wavered from it. No matter how I felt, my duty was always clear and following it was what kept me going.

I knew nobody else took it as seriously as I did. I've mentioned that I don't think I'm a good person (which is true, even now) but I've always wanted to be. It's not that doing your duty means you are a good person so much as it was that failing to do your duty prevented you from ever becoming one. It became an absolute in my life, a faultless and eternal monolith of meaning in an otherwise shitty life. It wasn't the only thing I ever had, other things came and went. It was the only thing that never wavered or ended, though, and it was unspeakably important to me.

That's actually why I had so much trouble with my mum's death. Because while it wasn't my fault in any way, I had failed my responsibility. Diabetic coma was a foreseeable and avoidable concern. I failed to have something that would have helped prevent it through sheer negligence. I want you to know that hearing you say it wasn't my fault and that I didn't do anything wrong helped immensely, it did. But saying that it wasn't my responsibility does not make it true. It was my responsibility, I failed it and there was a pretty severe consequence because she died and my entire responsibility was to not let that happen.

That's actually a fact that is still difficult for me to deal with. I don't talk about it much because honestly there's nothing you could say or do to make it better. For the first time in my life, I failed to adhere to my duty and that failure betrayed my duty. My failure was my mother's death. I'll have to live with that. Don't get me wrong, I've never thought that I did something immoral or anything. I just failed the core belief I'd clung to for most of my life. It isn't and never can again be the pure, inviolate absolute that kept me going. Speaking honestly, there have been a lot of times in my life where this fact would have ultimately destroyed me. 

I'm not saying all this because I've been feeling bad. I just wanted to be sure you understood the context for what I want to say. You have changed me. You have made me a better person. Being with you, having been loved by you, has made me want to be a better person. I don't mean that I want to be a better person because you deserve a better person (because although that's true, I felt that way with Heather as well). I mean that knowing you the way I have and knowing that you have loved me has made me want to be a better person for myself. Because of you, I believe that I can be a good person. 

I'm not one now but I will be one. It won't be quick. There will be days, probably a lot of days, where I won't win my daily fight to become the person I want to be. I know that it will be a hard and unpleasant road a lot of the time. But no matter what, no matter how hard it is or what happens, you have made me a better person for having known you. Even if I never succeed, because of you I will never stop reaching for that goal.

And I will always love you and be thankful for that. You have made my life infinitely better. Never forget that.

The following is a list of assumptions about our relationship that I have been working under.

• That you are sick of me being indecisive.
• That you either did not get or did not like your birthday gift[s] (silver lily necklace and the flowers)
• That you don't want to deal with my problems.
• That you will deal with them if I need you to.
• That you don't want to spend time with me.
• That you have found our sex life disappointing at best for a while.
• That you don't want me involved in your life any time you are busy, unwell or otherwise stressed.
• That you have no plans to discuss or act on the practicalities of us being together.

Most of these assumptions developed over time. As time has gone on we've done less, spoken less. I'm beyond certain that a good portion of my feeling this way is my own insecurities but for all my many flaws, I have always tried to do things with you. To be with you. Haven't believed that was going to happen for quite a while now. You were right to call me on my indecision a while back, though, and I've been working on that. 

I decided I want to be a good person. Being a good person means doing the right thing. Since all the evidence has suggested that you would prefer that we don't lean on each other for most things, I stopped coming to you with issues that I can deal with on my own. Same with my insecurities. While I am vaguely surprised we're still together, the truth is simple. Whether we broke up tomorrow or stayed together for the rest of our lives, I would still want to have more moments with you. I can't make all the moments happy ones but I can stop making some of them bad ones.

Upshot is that you will primarily be in charge of when we talk and what we talk about. I know it's not fair to have you carry that responsibility but when you take my problems off the table as well as things you have no interest in, I just don't have anything to say. I love you with everything in me and I always will. You shouldn't feel remotely obligated to do or say anything you don't want to. Being with you has been and will always be something truly beautiful in my life.

I'm sorry. I get the impression I've been letting you down latelly and I never wanted to do that. Probably inevitable, though. I realised that I have nothing to offer you. Certainly nothing to offer the boys. The entirety of my skillset comprises of emotionally damaging myself so that I can remain functional in fucked up situations. You've proved, time and again, that you're strong enough to walk away from those situations and because of that the boys will never be in them. Even if you were in them, I don't think my way of dealing with it is good, exactly.

I want to talk to you. I want to break down and cry and get you to make me feel better, over and over. I know you would probably do it, too. You'd try, at the very least. But I have nothing to offer you. We both know that when you have shit going on that I'm beyond useless. The best thing you can say about me is that I don't make it worse. Or at least, not very much worse. So what I want is irrelevant. I need to do the right thing.

The right thingis to not burden you. To not make you have to carry the weight of my shit when I can spare you of it. I'm sorry that my doing this means I won't talk to you much. I know that might hurt you. It's not because of you, though. I'm not strong and if I speak to you then I will probably break down. I need to do the right thing. I know I'll probably never be a good person but I need to be the least bad person possible. 

I'm sorry to let you down.

I'm really needy. Like, really needy. Way more than it even seems. You have no idea how often I just want you to tell me that you love me over and over, or that everything will be okay or that you want to be with me or any one of who knows how many variations on the theme of pathetic and insecure. I mostly deal with my neediness by consciously reminding myself that you have needs too, even if you don't bring them up. You need, for example, a partner who isn't entirely pathetic. I do what I can to mitigate the toll my neediness will take on our relationship. 

Because I have to. You want to be a perfect wife and be there for your family. You want that for your kids and for the person you love and for yourself. For whatever stupid reasons, I'm lucky enough to be the one you love. You wanting that is partly why it took you so long to leave James. It's certainly a big factor in why you put up with David's stupid ass as long as you did. You want it so much that as long as it doesn't hurt your boys, you'd let trying for it tear you apart.

I love you. I can't do that to you. I won't. Even with my best efforts, you still have to deal way too much with my insecurities. With my moods. Those are only going to be worse while I'm grieving. You don't want to deal with that. Nobody does. You would deal with it, though. You'd do it without me even asking you to. That's one of the things I love about you. But it's not what you want. When I successfully battle my shit in a week and nothing is going on for either of us, you're happy talking to me for half an hour or so before bed every day. You don't need me the way I need you. 

That's not a bad thing at all. I'm much too needy. It's not like you don't need me at all (although when you do need me I have a tendency to let you down, but that's another issue entirely), which might be a problem. You are a strong, beautiful and intelligent woman. Every single day of my life, I'm grateful to be in your life, grateful to matter to such an amazing person. I love you.

I could easily be as ridiculously needy as David was, though. Not in the same ways and the fact that I control myself means I'm unquestionably better than that lackwit but the fact remains that if I let it go unchecked then it would quickly become that bad. And you would probably put up with it. That's why I'm making the choice to not grieve with you as much as I would like to. Because you would never make that choice. Because no matter how bad it was, you would still be there for me. Knowing that means more to me than I can say. It really, truly does.

But this is all I can do for you, my love. I don't know how long I'll grieve for my mum. I don't know what shape that grief will take. I do know it will make me needy as shit, even compared to my usual, and the only thing I can do for the woman I love is prevent her from dealing with that because she wouldn't save herself from it. I'm not going to stop talking to you. I couldn't if I wanted to and I don't even think I could want to. Not to mention that I have to keep letting you know I haven't exploded or imploded or something because it's a fair concern and I don't want you to worry.

So don't worry, love. I have a lot of people who will help me grieve. Most of my relatives will help with sadness. Glenn will help me process the anger. Charlie will help me examine my emotional state. Sam can help keep me distracted and provide me another perspective on anything. It turns out that I have a lot of people who love me.

And as much as I want to be able to open up with you, and never doubt that I do want to be with you through this more than anyone else, all I can do for the woman I love is to protect her from me. Because you won't protect yourself and once the floodgates open on my shit I don't trust myself to be able to not substantially make your life worse. 

I haven't been feeling very good lately. I've avoided going into a depressive spiral, although a lot of the credit to that goes to you. Maybe it's just the pressure from my parents and my sisters getting to me. I know I didn't feel like this when I was in Sydney but I didn't feel great then either because I couldn't talk to you. If I had to pick a state to be in, it's always the one where I talk to you. I'm tired as I write this so I'll probably ramble on a bit.

I haven't felt like you're going to break up with me lately, which is nice, but at the same time I have been feeling very strongly that we won't be together the way I'd like. It feels too far away, too hard. I've been dealing with that mostly by trying very hard not to dwell on that feeling. Any time I think that I might not get to spend the rest of my life with you, I feel sad. It's not because of anything you're doing, to be clear. It doesn't even really feel like we're going to end any time soon. It just feels like we'll never have more.

I still feel like I don't really contribute anything in our relationship. That's part of why I liked being able to give you something that made you happy. Mostly, I liked it because I like seeing you happy and being able to give you a nice day, even half a nice day, at such a low cost is well worth it.

Lately, I've been keenly aware of my lack of sexual experience. I feel clumsy, inadequate. I don't know what to do. I fear letting you down but I don't know how to avoid it. This feeling has been growing for a while. It's largely why I don't ask to video Skype with you. As much as I would love to see you (and I really, truly would, by the way), that desire is counter-balanced by knowing that I'm bad at it and unattractive. You tell me that I'm handsome and that does make me feel better but only because it means you care enough to lie to me.

Same principle applies to you saying I'm talented. It feels like you have very limited interest in any artistic avenue I have pursued (and that the limit is purely that you care about me, not that you enjoy anything I create). It does feel nice that you lie and claim to really like my efforts but I wouldn't want to ask you for that kind of validation because I don't want to be a burden. I try not to mention my knowledge of these facts because absolutely nothing is served by calling you a liar and having a fight about what is clearly a sign of your affection for me. The last thing I want to do is have a fight with you about you caring for me. That would be David-level retarded.

I love getting to talk to you. I feel useless most of the times I do because I'm not funny or helpful or anything but talking to you makes my day. Our relationship never feels realer to me than in those moments where we just talk. Where we connect the way we always have, as friends and equals. I live for those moments. I absolutely adore making love to you but I feel useless AND clumsy when we have sex. I always worry I'm talking too much, or not enough, or I'm leaning on a fantasy too heavily, or not heavily enough, or I'm going to finish too early, or finish too late. It's hard to get out of my own head, sometimes. Talking to you is easier, sometimes. Purer. Not that I don't screw that up enough.

Sometimes I feel a little disappointed that you don't follow through on things like pictures or artwork or whatever. Every time I feel disappointed, I feel like an asshole. Mostly, I'm just happy enough that you ever, even for a brief moment, intended to give something like that to me. On good days, I let that feeling warm my heart and then I forget all about it. On less good days I tend to assume that I'm not important enough. The specifics vary but that's the core of it. From believing that the intention was too much effort to actualise to believing that you forgot, it's always because I don't matter enough for it to be otherwise.

Which I try not to mention because it seems fucked up. Like I'm putting that on you. I'm certain I let you down a whole lot more than even the most insanely critical interpretation of your actions could turn up. I get to be with you. It's beyond presumptuous to be disappointed as though you owe me more than you give me. Especially when you give me so much.

The worst thing about eternal imprisonment is the boredom. After a while, you stop caring about the lack of freedom and the uncertainty. Eventually, you would even welcome oblivion if it meant an end to it. Agony would be better than nothingness. I mean, it would be something to do. Writhing and screaming isn't exactly my idea of a good time but it's something.

I suppose I have to give my captor credit. Never let it be said that I don't recognise talent. He was born into a culture that barely knew how to summon my kind without being eviscerated and force-fed their entrails. Almost half the time they would screw up the summoning circle. They struggled with the concept of precision being necessary. Still, I suppose you can't expect much from a people who counted in base six and considered guessing to be the pinnacle of mathematical achievement. 

Makes my imprisonment even more impressive, really. The son of a bitch was really ahead of his time. Brave, too. I hadn't been summoned in that part of the world for two generations. You wipe out four villages in an unstoppable rage and I guess people remember. Inmat was not like the usual cringing priest who would drag me from my home and seek to assign me some petty task of revenge or greed. He wore no gaudy jewellery, he didn't use a towering voice to impress others. He just stared with cold, calculating eyes.

I learned to regret killing those villages. I had revealed my strength. Most of my kind cannot stay in this world long without the strength of a summoner to sustain them. It takes power and will to remain. Our essence begins to drain and ache when we attempt to stay in this world without the mage playing the role of a bridge. Most of us who have the strength to stay in this world after killing our summoner don't bother. I had been summoned frequently in that region, however, and had grown tired of the indignity. I stayed for over a week past killing my summoner and left only because I didn't think staying longer would be worth the pain of doing so.

This little adventure of mine accomplished its goal. The whole of Ubaid knew that I was fearsome and terrible to behold, that summoning me risked not just your life but that of everyone for miles around. I was a being of terrible power. And that is why Inmat chose me. I spent centuries kicking myself for indulging my bloodlust that week. I should have known that proving myself powerful would only encourage ambitious humans to attempt to use me. My understanding of human nature was so much smaller, then.

Inmat trapped me in the strongest circle I have ever seen, before and since. The entire thing spanned fifteen yards from the centre with only a few feet in the middle unmarked. It was remarkable. As you attempt to add to a circle it becomes increasingly more powerful but magnificently more complex. The strength increases linearly but the complexity increases exponentially. A single mistake on any layer is enough to invalidate the entire circle. Of course, an insufficiently complete circle is equally worthless.

Inmat's great circle could have trapped a god. 

I was kept captive there for months. That was the second impressive feat. I mentioned earlier how being in this world drains our essence? When we are summoned, it is our summoner's essence that is drained instead. He couldn't endure this without consequence, though. As time went on he became thin, his eyes sunken, his movements increasingly sloppy. He never spoke to me. To this day, I have no idea why he did what he did and I never will.

I assume he was wealthy for his time though you couldn't tell to look at him. He wore the same shapeless garments that any peasant wore. What most peasants did not have, however, was the succession of heavy silver rings being delivered to their home. They would be delivered, he would inspect them and find them unsatisfactory. I tried cajoling and threatening and pleading to be released. I tried reasoning and taunting and lying. He never responded. The only time I saw any reaction out of him was the increasingly impotent fury he felt as each of the rings was unsatisfactory. 

Finally, a ring was considered acceptable. Inmat had sent off to distant Eridu with his specifications and apparently some silversmith had been able to meet his demands. At the time, I had been enthusiastic. Surely, I thought, my captivity would soon end! The bitter irony leaves an unpleasant taste in my mouth even now.

That night, Inmat cast a spell. I have almost no memory of the last of my freedom. I remember light and heat and the unforgettable wrenching agony of having my bridge home being shattered and burned. My only solace is that Inmat died in the act. Perhaps had he gotten a satisfactory ring sooner or had he tried this with a less magnificent specimen than myself he could have lived. Perhaps he would have always died. All I will ever know is that Inmat died to bind me into the ring.

It felt unimaginably strange. All sensation was gone. There was no pain or pleasure, no heat or cold, no sharp or soft, no loud or quiet. It was as if I existed in a void. Worst of all, the tether that lead back to my home, to the other place, was gone. For the first time in my existence I could not feel my way away from where I was. I would eventually learn that my tether had been wound through the inscriptions on the ring to sustain the binding and make it unbreakable. Like I said, Inmat was a genius. Permanent imprisonment.

It was not absolute, though. I existed for a time. I don't know how long because there is no way for me to measure the inbetweens. Eventually, sensation flooded back. It was overwhelming. Sight, smell, sound, touch, taste, temperature. I was startled, to put it mildly, but I was ecstatic. My imprisonment, my hellish nothingness, was over! It didn't take long to realise that this was not so. I had no control. I was riding in somebody else.

My first wearer was an incompetent priest of Namma. I had no understanding at the time but I learned that when my prison is worn by somebody with magical talent then I can experience the world through them. It is not my world but it is better than nothing. I also learned that I could communicate with my wearer (I learned this when I convinced the incompetent priest that Namma wished him to murder the silversmith who crafted my ring) and even hear his thoughts if he did not guard against it.

And that is how I have spent thousands of years. At times I am passed from magician to magician. I spent three hundred years being worn in Egypt. I had almost two centuries in Rome. At other times, I am left alone in my prison for centuries. My ring is unbreakable. It is immune to fire and hammer and even spells. Inmat was a genius. The boredom is the worst part.

The way I would like to handle us seeing each other in person has changed since we last spoke about it. That can't be too surprising given that we last spoke about it around eight or nine months ago. Scheduling a conversation about this with you has proved to be difficult. I'm trying not to read into that (with some success at the moment but that has varied wildly) but seeing that I think we really do need to discuss this, I figured I would approach it in the same way I approached the discussion on marriage and kids early on in our relationship. That is to say, I tell you what I'm thinking and we can discuss it from there.

In an ideal world, I now want you to come to Australia before I go to America. There are a bunch of reasons for this. I would like to show you my country to see if you would ever want to live here. I want to show you off to all my family and friends and strangers on the street. I think it would be easier (comparatively) on my nerves to be able to get used to having you near me in person without also having to make a good impression on your friends and family. I want to be able to give you a holiday, an experience, because that will only get harder to do with time when we're looking after kids and working and what have you.

What I would want to do with you when you're here (doing my best to keep my mind out of the gutter for a moment) would vary based on how long you were here for. You could be here for up to ninety days without needing a Visa. While I would love having you here for that long, it's clearly impractical. Optimistically, I would hope to have you for three or four weeks. More realistically, I would expect one or two weeks.

Based on how long you were coming here, I'd like to do a few things. I would love to spend a week in Queensland, the north-east part of my country, for a few reasons. The weather is great, there's stuff to do, I would be able to meet and introduce you to Sam. There's activities, beaches, a few theme parks, restaurants. Of the things I want to do with you when you're here, it is the most vacationish of them. I'd also want to do the more traditional tourist stuff with you, if you wanted. Spend some time in Sydney to see the Opera House and whatnot. 

I also want to have you come to my house. I will probably be living with Glenn and his girlfriend by the time you come here. I want to show you off to everyone. I want you to meet my parents (although if I could, I'd probably skip introducing my mother to you) and my sisters. I want to break my bed with you. I want to show you where I live, where I went to school. I want to show you my city even though it's small by American standards.

I want to be able to have a variety of experiences with you before you have to go back. I want to go on a nice date somewhere maybe a bit fancy. I want to spend a night lying together on a bed or a couch doing nothing. I want to take you dancing even though I have no real idea how to dance. I want to be able to sit with you on a beach somewhere and watch the sun rise over the ocean. I want to be able to hold your hand because you're there. I want to make love to you and I want to ravish you until your legs won't work, over and over again.

In this ideal world, I would go to America soon after you have been here (within six months, say). More importantly, I would be going to marry you. I think that wherever we end up, it will prove to be a lot easier for me to marry you and move to you than the other way around. While I still ultimately would prefer our family to be here (for jobs, education, health care and so on), I want to be with you so much more than I care about anything else. If we decide we do want to move here we will be together during the process and paperwork.

That's how I would like things to go. I am not, however, determined that it is the way they will go. I am very flexible on the issue. I know you have the boys and work and who knows what else in terms of obligations. I would be happy to have the boys along with you because while it would remove some possibilities (spending an entire day in bed with you doing nothing but making love, just off the top of my head) it would create some (like spending a day as a family at a pool or something). 

I would also be happy to go to America rather than have you come here. I would love to meet the boys, although I expect that when I do I will be beyond nervous as fuck into uncharted new lands of nervous. I would love to meet your father because I know how much your relationship with him means to you. I'd love to see where you lived, the people you spend time with and the state you live in. I would also love to break your bed.

Like I said, I am not making demands here. One thing that I will not be flexible about, however, is the notion of paying. However we do this, I want to pay. For the first time at the very least. Not because of any notion of masculinity or what have you. It's purely practical. You have to look after yourself and the kids. I manage to have very little in the way of expenses and have managed to save a deal of money expressly for this purpose. In a week, it will be five thousand dollars. Depending on when we plan to make this happen, it could be a deal more.

I love you.