Why is the worst question. When answered, it gives intent. When answered it can be a road map for how a person thinks and what future actions will be and what past actions meant. In the grand scheme of things why should be utterly meaningless. It doesn't matter why hitler was anti-sematic. Or why Rosa Park refused to give up her seat. The why wasn't determinent of the outcome.

So I suppose it shouldn't matter why Caity should need a relationship with Valerie in addition to mine.

But it does.

I suppose I feel somehow betrayed. In this moment my marriage doesn't just involve two people. And that was never how my marriage was written. I was supposed to be yours and you were supposed to be mine. Niether of us succeeded I suppose, but what about now. Am I not enough for you? I've always felt like too much for you. I always felt like you were mere moments from spontaneously combusting. Now I'm starting to see that is your manipulation of me. It's your play to get people to do things for you. You pretended you couldn't handle anything so you didn't have to. I suppose I play that card sometimes.

That card is probably why I never want you to be a mother though. To some degree I probably married you to replace her. Its disgusting. But I'd never want children to be raised by a person who constantly pretended to be on the precipice of defeat. That pretense means constant anxiety.

I'd love to say that I'm okay with a polyamorous triad. But I'm not. I refuse to give myself fully to someone who isn't reciprocating. Thats probably why we are here in the first place. I would like to let you explore your sexuality, but you committed to me. And exploration is a clear breach of that commitment. I'd like to demand that you only have eyes for me, but you and I both know (even if we can't say it to each others face) that you can't do that. You pretend you can't do anything even though I know better. I'm not ready to leave, but I can't help but think its time. I can't help but start writing up a mental list of our assetts and the appraised value to be split, beginning to pack my things and search for a life after you. I never planned on there being any life after you. It was supposed to be "always." It feels like the end of the universe.

For now that's all in my head, no actual packing. But I don't see us coming out the other side of this. Our actions say that we both aren't happy here. Our actions don't say we are committed to what we have without changing. I suppose I'm writing this to hurt you. To shock you into somehow chasing after me. To trick you into promising me the world. But by now I've come to realize you won't ever deliver the world. So I don't know what I want. I want all of you, but that won't make me happy, just make our marriage whole.

I suppose I should look back at when we were dating and see what we liked back then, except all we ever did was make out and rub each other. So maybe it should be no suprise that we are where we are. You were my reprieve from my world of pressures and stigma, a literal instant gratification of everything. I'm not sure what I was, but judging from your other S.O.s I was attention. A substitute for daddy's affection. And I made it easy for you to find committed admiration. I was hoping in looking back to find a recipe for fixing things, instead I found a map of why they are broken.

I don't want to leave.

I don't want to stay.

It seams no matter what I choose it looks like a lot of pain. I'd be open to working on a real relationship. Going on adventures together. Finding shared interests. Making goals for our future and spending way too much time being cute together. That all sounds like Val could work, but I feel like we are Valerie's hobby, not the other way around. I share every thought with you. And somehow I feel like we share nothing meaningful. I'm open to having a fulfilled and meaningful relationship with you. I want to cook you pasta, and take you snowshoeing (perhaps metaphorically). And I want you to rub my back after a long day and invest time and energy into sharing a home and a life. I want you to pretend convincingly to like showshoeing. I just don't see how the current direction of our life serves that. I guess I just can't see our future. I don't see you liking me enough to pretend convincingly to like snowshoeing. And as a metaphore, that is the meaning of love.

I still don't want to leave.

I'm still afraid to stay.

For now, I'm going to find a way to be passionately involved in the progression of my life. I'm going to leap forward and upward. I'm going to commit to serving and loving you, Caity, and pray desperately that I feel loved enough to continue loving. I'm going to let you explore and learn and grow, and know that my loving you and letting you explore, is absolutely and unequivically killing me. But I feel like you deserve it. And if we were keeping score, it's probably perfectly fair. I'm going to put on my best smile mask, I'm going to do your stupid dishes, and I'm going to try to thrive here. Because you are still the only place I want to be.