I know that I don’t belong here, and I have no one to talk to about it.

I moved here with my boyfriend because he convinced me that it would be best for both of us, and that our love was so important that we’d make it work.

And yet at every opportunity he seems to remind me that his needs are more important than mine, and that now that we’re out here he could get on very well without me.

Perhaps he only needed me to get out here–only needed me to help leave everything he had ever known–to show him that a different life wouldn’t be so scary.

For me, it was not my first time leaving home. But it was the first time I’ve ever done it for someone else.

Perhaps that was my mistake. And I suppose I’ll have to except it.

Except it, but not live with it. I need to leave. I cannot live my life second to someone else’s. I didn’t realize that’s what I would be doing when I came here with him, but now that it’s been made clear, I believe it’s best for me to cut my losses and leave before it’s too late.

If he believes he doesn’t need me, let him live without me. It will be painful to leave him, but it will be worse to stay.

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