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Therapy is a bitch, isn't it? I thought I wanted a second love. I thought I wanted the caring and support that I feel I lack in my life. I thought my issues were external, and needed an external fix.
But my issues are me. I can't have a second love because I don't love myself. I lack caring and support because I withhold it. What I need isn't on Reddit, my work, or my household. It can only come from within. And I can't provide it yet.
So I'm not here for love, but opium. A temporary respite from the mess I've made of myself. It's shallow and it's short, but it's addictive. And that's why I'm back.
I can give you the adorating I deny myself. I can provide good conversation and pictures. I can help you escape as well. But I'm a drug addict as well as the drug. This is what you're getting into.
Externally, I have it together. Good job, good husband, attractive and successful on a meaningless societal metric. But the facade takes work. I don't want to put in that kind of work here. I want to melt and allow myself to show the mess I am, and maybe get help organizing it back up. I don't need a therapist--I pay mine enough already--but rather I need someone who both gets the harms of this addiction but also loves to partake in it. If that's you, message me.
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