Yeah, So...

Dear X,

I've been lying here for hours, alternating between trying to read and trying to sleep. I haven't been doing so well at either one, though, because my mind keeps wandering to you and to this whole situation.

I know you've wondered for years why I lie to you about fucking him. I say that it's because you don't trust me, so I figure I might as well live up to your low expectations. On the other hand, though, I understand why you don't trust me--because I lie to you about fucking him. Your lack of trust in me feeds my desire to lie to you, and my lying to you feeds your lack of trust in me.

I've never really dug deeper than that, but I've been trying really hard to work some things out, mostly for myself, but partly for the benefit of people I care about. And I've finally figured it out.

Allow me to explain.

I feel inadequate around you. You're competent at things; I'm not. You're adept at talking to people; I'm not. You can cook; I can't. You can clean; I can't. You have feminine aspects as far as looks and personality; I don't. You're outgoing; I fade into the background. You can do things that matter; I can write what amount to sex infomercials. You're "decent people"; I'm a white trash whore.

So what does this have to do with me fucking him behind your back? It's because I'm afraid if I don't do it, he'll lose interest--because sex is, quite literally, the only thing I have to offer anyone.

I'm so sorry.

~Bunny