Dear friend,

I decided the other day, after much thought, that perhaps the way to save our relationship, was letting David go. I do not wish to encage him, and prevent my darling from experiencing other people, if that is his wish.

There is a chance that I could be wrong—we’ve yet to talk, after all—but… it is as if something is weighing on his mind.

I do not want to jump to conclusions, yet, I have an inkling it has to do with a certain co-worker of David’s. And I do not enjoy seeing my lover look so miserable and confused; whenever we kiss, or go slightly further than a mere hug, David does not seem as present as he used to be, in comparison to when we had first gotten together.

I’m currently waiting for him to come back home, so, while I do, I wanted to update you on the wrist situation, friend.

My doctor tells me I likely have quite a bad case of repetitive strain injury. We do not know to what extent—more tests need to be run on me—but there was no doubt in her mind that I needed to take a break, or at least, make an effort to lessen my workload.

Perhaps, I deserve this—when I read back on my previous entries, there were more than a few where I would complain about being in pain after jotting down some notes. Why did I not see this coming?

Why did I brush it off as nothing?

Well… maybe, that isn’t exactly right. I suppose, I do have an issue with forgetting that I am hurting myself, sometimes, due to the fact that I do not always remember that this is my body. This issue is slowly getting better, thankfully, but it will take some time to fix, in my opinion.

David has… definitely eased my mind when it comes to the… sex aspect of my dissociative problem.

…Well, I still… would rather not touch myself. But it is fine… with him.

Gods… friend, I am slightly starting to doubt my progress. It occurred to me yesterday, too, that I was not doing the best job at taking care of myself. I work needlessly long hours. I sometimes forget to brush my teeth and cover it up with a mint before going to bed. There are days where, if David isn’t around, I will have my first meal of the day late in the afternoon. Two nights out of my four will be sleepless ones. And I cannot remember the last time I did something for myself.

Everything was all right when David and I were still all over each other—or, rather, it was more complicated for me to fall back into my horrendous habits, with someone constantly around. I recall David would come to get me if it was getting a tad too late, and tempting me into a break with the promise of cuddles.

This isn’t David’s problem though. To claim the situation has ended up this way, merely because my lover is not as present in my life as he used to be, would be putting the blame on him—and this situation is nobody else’s fault but mine. If my well-being depends on another’s actions to this extent, that definitely does put me in an awkward place. Therefore, I’ve decided that I’ll be seeing my therapist again for the first time in weeks… in a couple days; yes, friend… I am ashamed to say I had also been putting off our appointments, under the pretense that I felt better.

I do… feel better in the sense that I still want to live. I think… there is still much work to be done, however, in regards to how I want to live. Objectively speaking, I do not find myself to be the best version of Alexander. I am definitely better than last year, but that is nothing to be satisfied about, in my eyes.

I have slacked off tremendously with my self-reflective practices. The last time I checked in with Me, was a little over four months ago, if I remember correctly; and it was merely to ask myself, if I should, perhaps, take a break to eat, at five in the afternoon.

…Friend, what is wrong with me?