Itâs 10:27 on a Monday morning. Iâm sat in your office trying to stutter out words I can barely say to myself. I start with a disclaimer, just like every other time, so that if you were to say these things it wonât hurt as much - Iâll have said it first, beat you to it. âSo this was really fucking stupid of me, but I thought if I forced myself into having sex, I would be able to fix myselfâŚâ You listen, whilst I take an awfully long time to say only a couple of sentences. And at the end of it, you say to me, âyou donât need fixing. You donât need fixing because youâre. not. broken. Youâre not.â I bite my tongue, I hold it in, but really all I want to do is scream. You donât get it, I AM BROKEN. I am broken into a thousand little pieces, and please, please, canât you help me put them back together? I need someone to let me be broken. I need someone to fix me. Iâve been trying for years, and I just canât fix myself.