I don’t think we should stay together.
I don’t think we’re good together or good for each other. I think we’re both just clinging to this marriage to prove something to ourselves, or about ourselves. Do you even love me? To me, a person cannot love someone and have such a shocking and frightening level of stored up resentment. It just KEEPS HAPPENING. I don’t want to hear about how bad you feel. I don’t want to hear how you’re going to change. I don’t want to hear how I mean more than anything in the world to you.
I DONT BELIEVE ANY OF IT. Why would I? How stupid would I have to be to think it would somehow be different this time?
And before you flip the tables and make me the monster and you the victim, as you HAVE to do, any time you profusely apologize you’re just waiting for your turn to freak out and act like a shitty imbecile who bashed their head against the furniture to accentuate a point.
Have you ever been afraid of me? Have you ever stood in front of me and started running it through your mind how fast you’d have to dart out of the way if I grabbed you,
Or shoved you, again? Have you ever wondered “is this is? Is this when she finally starts hitting me?”
I do NOT want to hear how you don’t hate me.
You’re in denial. Or it’s latent, but you fucking despise me. No one would say what you’ve said to me over and over or act the way that you have if you didn’t. You don’t know why you acted that way? I DO.
Everything is broken and I have no interest in picking up the pieces, not this time, not when this is just set to happen again and again and again until one of us is dead.
Did you think if you’re just 100% nice and loving and helpful for a few days I’ll give in like I always do and we go back to pretending like everything is fine? It’s not fine. I’m not fine. Just like when we drove home from our wedding weekend, these past few days I’ve been hoping I would die soon so I could just not deal with this.
You hate me.
I deserve better than being with someone who hates me.
You should not want to be with me, it’s just some attachment you formed because being married to me makes you feel good about yourself. You don’t actually love me. You could not possibly.
And there’s no fixing that.
We’ll talk more about it whenever I see you next and I’m sober.
My plan today is to find a place to drink after work and then come home absolutely plastered.
Then, after tonight, we’ll see how much YOU still want to be married to me.