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Month: August 2019

I love you…

I love you…

I told him that I loved him. He just looked at me and said “oh”. Nothing else, then walked off. It’s been before W was born since he said it to me. The rejection makes me feel alone and isolated. There wasn’t a good explanation as to why he won’t. I used to say it to him all the time, but I stopped. The fact he doesn’t say it back to me hurts. A lot. It reminds me what I already know. He doesn’t love me. He stays with me because well sex and money and kids. I take care of a lot for him. I feel alone in this relationship. I feel like if I disappeared no one would care. He won’t say he loves me. He won’t say he likes me. He locked up my engagement ring. He talks about wanting to be with my sister. What more evidence do I need?

I have a counseling appointment coming up. I want to tell her how I feel. I want to tell her how scared and at peace I am with the future. Two conflicting feelings rolled into one. Because, apparently, I’m weird. I am scared to tell her my feelings. I’m afraid she will stop me. At the same time, I’m afraid she will be dismissive. And there’s a part of me that thinks she already knows. She just wants me to open up. I want to tell her I plan on going through with it. I want to tell her I’m sorry for any pain that will cause her. I don’t want to be alone in this.

My birthday is coming up. 40th. After the baby is born. I honestly at this point don’t know why I go on. I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of putting on a happy face for everyone and pretending that I’m ok. I’m tired of the pain. This won’t get better. I just want this to end. I want the fight to end. I won’t win. I haven’t so far, so why should I believe things will get better? I’ve stayed alive these last months because killing myself would result in my killing an unborn baby. But soon, the baby will be born. What will keep me alive then? Why will I continue on? I honestly don’t want to go on. I want this to be the end. I’ve struggled immensely this whole pregnancy. I was struggling before. I want to die. I want to self harm. I want to die a slow painful death. I figure I deserve it. If I were a better person, I’d be happier. But I’m not. I’m a horrible person. Even my own husband doesn’t love me. I don’t want to be a burden to anyone anymore. I can kill myself. They will be able to pay off the car and the house. They will be better off without me.

I honestly just want someone to hold me. Someone who will tell me that they will be here for me. Someone who isn’t going to lie and tell me things will get better. It’s been nearly three decades. Things won’t get better. I just need to learn how to survive and not focus on happiness. Happiness is unobtainable. Hell, at this point, life seems unobtainable.