Dear Steven,

I don't know if you'll ever read this. I don't know what happened. I do not know if you're alright or alive even.

And it's killing me.

It's weird to have something online throw me off so much - but we knew it all along, didn't we? That's the reason why we chose the [AD]-collar, indicating a real life ownership. We clicked and it changed my life. We both also knew that it had to end some day - I just would never have imagined it would end like this.

You haven't been online since Thursday, 8th October. I need to write this all down once. I need to cry the shit out of me now, so that I possibly can let it go. I wish I wouldn't tear up on the street, reliving a conversation we had or remembering something you made me do. I wish I didn't have to think of you so much. And I wish tears weren't running down my face as I type this.

You came online on Thursday, letting me know that you were working late and couldn't stay to chat. We were finally good again. We were having fun again. I was Yours again, I felt the collar and everything that goes with it. We had found our step again. 'Kik me on your way home?', I asked. And you said 'will do. Talk soon x Bye for now x'. And that's it. You went offline and you didn't come back.

At first, I was pissed. You broke your word. You let me down. You promised you'd be back online and you did not. By Friday, I was worried. Because all my messages were marked 'sent', not 'delivered' and not 'read'. I began to think that something must've happened. Images of car crashs filled my head. I was so worried, I even checked the Sydney police twitter newsfeed and came up empty. That's when I remembered. You sent me one picture once, saying it was from work and that you were comfortable sharing it because of that. You never turned on your camera because of your wife. I accepted that. But when I was worried, I remembered Catfish. I remembered that it was possible to google images, and I did. To find out that the picture doesn't belong to someone named Steven, and that other person doesn't have the profession you said you had. I figured you didn't lie about your name because you had made me write it on my body. And we talked about your work, too. So you lied about the picture. - I got mad. I felt betrayed. A betrayal so deep and bad that I cannot compare it to anything I've ever experienced. My world shattered. I trusted you with my life, I had always been genuine, I'd told you more than any other person. And you lied to me. I mean, you had lied to me in the beginning when you didn't tell me you were married. But that was understandable, and as you realized we clicked, as we got more and more attached to each other, you came clean. And I forgave you. Because I understood. But if there ever had been a good time to come clean about the picture, that was the moment. We talked about it. And you told me why you chose those pictures. You could've said 'that pic doesn't show me', I would've understood. I wouldn't even have needed a new one - it never was about looks. But you never came clean. You lied to me. And I wondered what else you lied about.

I broke down. Literally. I cried my eyes out. I was worried, I felt betrayed, naive, fooled, stupid. And most of all, I missed you. I miss you. There are little pieces of conversations popping up in my head. How you told me you'd never leave me be. How you said that this was the most enjoyable, rewarding and honest D/s 'thing' you've ever had, despite your real life D/s-relationships. How you encouraged me to be open with you. How you never judged me. - You know, I am a very forgiving person. And even though I need answers, even though I need to know why you lied to me, it's already water under the bridge. Because everything else you did, every word you said and every action you made, was never not in my best interest. I remember how, the first time that I took my shirt off in front of the camera, you asked me again and again if this really was what I wanted to do, if I was absolutely certain. You always gave me the time till I was ready. And you joked about it. You said something like 'Are you sure? (Am I mad?! :P)' You never wanted to make me uncomfortable. Before I sent you the first pictures for you to keep, you asked me to sleep over it and if I was still sure in the morning, I should send them. You looked out for me. Remember that picture you made me took last week? The one you told me to delete after looking at it myself? And how you said how much self control it took you to not make me share it? Because you knew I wasn't ready to share it.

I remember all of this. And it makes me forget about the lie. I miss you.

It's Wednesday now. Almost a week has passed and you still haven't come online. My messages are still marked 'sent'. I still wake up and it's like a fist in the stomach. No necklace. No [AD]. I am alone. On my own.

I don't think you'd just turn from me. I think something happened. But maybe I just need to tell myself that because the other option - that you would just leave without letting me know - hurts too much. Maybe I need to kid myself. But looking back at all the conversations, remembering who you are - I can't believe you'd just poof. Unless something happened.

I need to stop checking Kik every other minute. I need to stop hoping you will message me. I need to ... move on. Even though it hurts. Even though it feels like cheating. I need to accept that you are gone. That I may never get answers, never speak to you again. I love you. I would've never thought it's possible, but I do. It's tearing me apart.

This is goodbye. I need to make this a final goodbye. I need to pretend you died. Because if I keep hoping, I'll never move on and it will keep tearing me apart. It will kill me every day.

I love you.

Yours.

xoxo

Kiwi