We don’t know each other, but I expect I know more about the inner workings of your mind than your closest family and friends.
I know about the times you have quietly cried yourself to sleep, when you’ve sobbed in the supermarket buying sanitary products because your period’s arrived again or the time you feigned illness because you just couldn’t face the world.
More than anything I know about the loneliness you carry in your heart.
And I wanted to say that I am sorry.
I am sorry that something that is so easy for most, is so hard for you.
I am sorry that your sex life has turned into a military operation with scheduled appointments. That something so intimate and private between you and your partner has turned into a clinical process with medical professionals dictating what you can and can’t do, invading your body and criticising you.
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