When Daddy Had To Leave

I started playing little when I was 21. It felt like the right thing to do at that point in my life, and it helped me cope with some pretty rough stuff. My caregiver, let's call him Daddy, took on a similar role, he helped guide me through my struggles. We moved into an apartment together after just a few months. It was a dream come true for both of us, but things didn't stay sweet and perfect. Over time, I noticed changes in Daddy’s behavior. He became more distant, less playful. It hurt, and I tried to push back, ask what was wrong, but he always dodged the question. One day, out of nowhere, he sat me down and said it wasn't working for him anymore. He wanted to leave. The pain hit me like a ton of bricks. We had been through so much together in such a short time, why couldn’t we work things out? But as much as I pleaded with him, he wouldn’t budge. A few weeks later, he was gone. All my stuff left too, and it felt like a piece of me was ripped away when the last box disappeared from the hallway. Without Daddy around, I had to figure out how to be on my own again, but being little without him wasn't easy. It just brought back memories and made everything hurt all over again. I'm still healing, but it’s a lonely process. Sometimes I feel like no one can understand what it was like for me with Daddy, or why it had to end so suddenly. Other times, I want to reach out to him desperately, but the wound is too raw and I know it’s better left unspoken. I guess this confession just feels good because I needed to get all of that off my chest, I didn’t really expect anyone else to read it or understand, but maybe just letting some of those feelings out will help.