I don’t know if we’ll last.
Every so often, I think about it.
Yeah, we can get along. Yeah, our families can mesh quite well. Yeah, we’re married and have expressed that we love each other.
But sometimes, I’m still just not sure if you’re the one.
I don’t always feel like my better self with you – my best self, my vibrant, ecstatic, and wonderfully creative self, with you.
Sometimes I think that maybe I just need to give your some time. Maybe you’ll come around. But then I think, maybe you won’t. Maybe we’re meant for others.
You like to play video games, a lot. You’re so into that. I’m so not.
And the things that inspire me, that make me feel alive and passionate and beautiful – you’re not into that so much, at all.
Maybe I got trapped by a pretty face.
You’re more of a simple guy. You said to me before that you loved me because I also have played games, and from what I noticed, let you be yourself.
But I’m not my best self with you.
I’m super affectionate, and needy.
I give a lot of physical love, and I expect a lot of physical love. You’re not like that.
I require lots of words of affirmation, thank you’s, I love you’s. You’re not really like that.
Sometimes I think I’m too much for you – but maybe I am too much for you.
Sometimes, I really think and wonder why we did this, why we married. And we’re only almost 2 years in.
Sure, we’re 25 – but I would love to have a baby sometime soon. But the fact that you already have one, and that you seem so.. Indifferent to it, makes me not want to have any, with you.
Also, you already have one from someone else, and because of that, I must be punished if I want 2, because now you only want one.
Two fucking kids I want, and it seems to be a problem.
I’d rather not have any, if this isn’t going to last.
I don’t want to be another baby mama of yours. And like how you’re so indifferent, me not having your child doesn’t seem to make a difference to you anyway. So maybe I won’t.
I’ll tell you what I’ll do though:
I’m going to start distancing myself from you. I won’t ask you for anything anymore (especially since it seems to be a problem). I won’t ask anyone for anything.
I thought with being married, I’d have someone to lean on, but at this point I’d rather help myself. Even though I’m working (even if it’s from home – I’m still working).
I will not ask you or anyone else to help me, since it’s such a damn problem. And I guess I ask for too much anyway. When I want a massage because my back is hurting, I’ll just massage my own damn self. I won’t even depend on you for sex – I’ll buy myself a toy, and take care of myself when I have the time.
Oh, and who the hell gets upset by their wife thanking them too much? Who really gets annoyed by their wife doting over them, always wanting to make sure they’re okay, complementing them, saying how much they’re appreciated?
I do that a hell of a lot more than you do for me. When was the last time you told me I was beautiful?
Maybe, I love you too much. But maybe it is too much. Maybe I am too much for you.