You tell me that in your head, I'm a fuck up, and you can't see past it. That I'm just a bummer and you want to have some fun.
You want to spend all your time talking online to other people, texting, messaging, interacting in ways that just aren't real. You work part time and do nothing, I come home from work, you run away to talk to your friends, leaving me to handle everything, if I'm lucky you've made the kids dinner.
You can't understand why I'm so upset that you sat texting someone else while we were out as a family. Yeah, no one was talking. Because you were being RUDE.
But I'm the asshole. I have a mental illness see, so every single fucking thing I ever do, or will do, will be assumed to be invalid because of this. Because I can't POSSIBLY be upset that he almost makes a POINT of disrespecting me. Because I should just lie down and let him do whatever he wants.
Because I'm not fun. I ask to go do stuff. I say hey, lets go out. He doesn't want to leave the house. That fucking laptop has been the bane of my existance the minute in came in the door.
Sure, I'm fine with other women being your friends. I'm ok with that. I'm NOT ok with you spending every waking second with them, any more than I'd be ok with you hanging out with guys friends in real life every single night.
I'm sorry I've been sick. I'm sorry I'm losing my fucking job. I'm sorry I got snagged in some internet drama because I'm a fuck up. I'ma fuck up! I get it! I'm not 25 and fun with no kids and no real worries aside from where my next tattoo will come from and how sad it is that my boyfriend is emo. I'm sorry that I am only your WIFE with two children. I'm sorry that HAVING your bloody children set my illness off. I'm SORRY that you can't see that it isn't all about you!
You complain that I'm always drama, and I try and tell you, that on some level, if the ONLY WAY to retain your focus is to have a problem, then guess what? THAT is what will happen. If I'm nice and happy, you get weird, and you disappear. You don't WANT me to be normal. You don't WANT me to be better. What excuse would you have to treat me like garbage?
Worst of all, you never, ever say I love you anymore. Not since the summer when I tried to kill myself because you were too caught up with some chick online, and we came THISCLOSE to divorce and I sat in that hospital room all alone, and came home all alone. Not since I had enough of competing with figments on a computer who think you're cute and an "awesome father"
Of course they say that. They don't see you ignore your kids in favour of someone on a compute. They don't see you yell at them to shut up because it's interfering with your music. They don't see you lose your shit with them over nothing. They don't see. THEY AREN'T REAL, because they have one input-YOU, and YOU can say whatever you want them to hear. Of COURSE they think you're wonderful.
I have been trying. Trying to change the habit of a lifetime, trying to control the idiocies of my disease, trying to be a better person but I'm rapidcly beginning to realize that with you, this just isn't possible. I will never, ever be enough. I will never be special. I will be the girl you fuck, and that's it.
I want someone to talk to. I want someone who tells me we'll figure it out, even if he's scared, and MEANS it, just as I've done in the past. I want someone who realizes that people are human and makes mistakes. I want someone happy to see me, someone who loves me, really loves me, instead of making me cry and much as you do.
I want someone who hears me when I say these things. Someone who doesn't roll their eyes. Someone who is willing to seek counselling.
I want a man. Not the boy I married.