I've been unhappy in my relationship more years than I was happy. When I realized I couldn't fix the problems, that there would always be new problems, I gave up. I stopped trying to make him happy. I stopped pretending to be happy.

 I feel smothered. I've never been right about anything in our relationship. And I've never loved him enough to satisfy him. He has always loved me more, always been more considerate.  His gifts were romantic, mine were more practical. I was more fun loving, he, more thoughtful. I treated him like an equal, he treated me like a little girl.
He isn't mean or abusive, he's not obnoxious or overbearing. He fought my battles for me, unasked. He worried about me, protected me, sheltered me, drove away those he thought were taking too much of my time, his time. My family, my friends, my children, my job. Anything that came between us, in his eyes.  He needed me to make him feel needed. He still does. And I can't live like this anymore, but there is nothing I can do.

So I write. But some of you feel this pain, too, and I'm so sorry about that. I wish we could all live in our cottages by the ocean, with the breeze blowing through the windows and the sun warming our faces.
So many people here are lonely and yearning to be loved.
I want to run away from it.