Perception
‘I'm not sure I can do this anymore,' I think as I turn to watch the man working in the small kitchen area of my new apartment.
‘I'm not sure if I can live with the lie of him loving me, when I'm not the one he wants me to be; not the one he wants to hold close to his heart at night.'
‘I'm not sure, if I can live with him whispering her name in his sleep, when his arms wrap around me.'
‘But I'm sure I deserve more than that.'
"Chakotay," I say. "We have to talk."
The end