[Death by Mirrors]

Short and straightforward: I wouldn't call anyone "my favorite p***y" when I want them to feel loved and cared for. (unless they're into dirty talk and humiliation, but that's a whole other topic)
He considers that a compliment, yeah?

Along with those other remarks he calls you, I'm completely baffled why you even love that guy. Sure, emotions are a complicated matter. But you're clearly suffering by the fact he's more interested in your body - or let's take it even further, your orifices.

Do you really want your life to be like this? Is this where you want to be in ten years? Living for the few sweet moments of comfort to put you back into a functioning fuckdoll state?

Longing for the day he's going to smile at you all out of the blue and say something nice about your ukulele music or the birthday cake you baked for him? Even though you can't really remember the last time he hugged you (just a hug, without any sexual intent following afterwards)?

No. I don't think so.

Does that make you stupid? Nope. I believe what you really are, deep down, is afraid. You fear you won't get along without him. That there will be no one to calm you down during a panic attack. No one to pull you back from that tenth story windowsill when you no longer feel able to deal with a cold, cruel world. Because as long as he's tugging at your shirt, there's someone who wants you at least. Even if his grip seems to choke you.

Maybe you're worried about him as well. You're afraid he won't get along without you. That he will be the one on the windowsill once you pack your bags and leave for good. As a sensitive and caring person you think it will haunt you forever if anything happened to him - no matter how many people afterwards tell you it wasn't your fault. Because before everything went haywire, he was such a nice friend...

There is no magical cure for fear. If there was, and I had discovered it, I would be sipping cocktails served by cybergoths in my penthouse mansion by now. Eventually you just have to take a step and hope for the best.

You were almost courageous, and it feels like a failure. But look back at where you came from. There probably was a time where you tried to convince yourself a certain degree of abuse in a relationship is normal. Just so you wouldn't have to face the fact there may be a problem. Since then you have reached out to others. You acknowledged the abuse. Mind you: toddlers don't "fail" learning to walk. They fall on their butt. Then they drag themselves up. Plop again. Drag themselves up once more and take a clumsy first step. Back on the butt. Failure? No. Just not done yet.

You're getting closer to it, Ava. Stay persistent!