To the people in my life that frustrate me:
I hope you’re happy. I have nothing left to give, but still I try to please you. I must be a masochist to put up with your shitty behaviour and still say that I love you.
You blame all of your failures on other people. They’re snotty, or too hard to work with, or wanted you to fail, or were jealous of you. I listened to you for the most part, and stuck up for you because that’s what I was supposed to do. You’ve wondered why people don’t like you; it’s because you screw them over without a thought. You screw them over with a list of justifications and reasons you just had to do it, expect them not to be angry, and wonder why they don’t want to speak to you any more.
You act like I’m taking you for granted, by working and going to school and working out instead of spending time with you, while YOU don’t have a job or any other productive things cooking and are sitting around waiting for your business endeavours to pan out.
Your own mother has said to me, in the same exasperated voice that I’ve used many times, that you are too much like your father, and they were married for about as long as we’ve been married. I don’t think our relationship will last much longer.
I don’t want to say that our whole relationship has been a waste, but
it shouldn’t have lasted this long.
I deserve a better relationship.
I deserve better behaviour from a man.
I DESERVE BETTER.