Love. My Honey. Love of my life.
Yesterday, I told you I was depressed, felt worthless, could barely smile anymore. That I needed help. You responded, “Oh, I forgot to call J.” You called him. Laughed and joked. Forgot about the conversation. You went on and on about the car I didn’t want because the car seat couldn’t fit in the back.
Most days it would have broken my heart. Yesterday, it was just another asshole thing you did.
I feel alone and trapped in the home we live in. I feel like there is no way out of this place, out of this marriage. Because of our baby. Because marriage is commitment to better or worse. Because deep down, there is still love for you.
Some days I don’t know where that love comes from though because…
The day I gave birth, 6 of your relatives came to visit, when I said I needed to rest and was in pain. We left early against doctors orders. I was scared and depressed. Overwhelmed because I still needed help. On a scale of one to zero, your level of care was a 0.
When I was hospitalized and needed surgery you asked if we could leave. You wanted me and our 4 moth old son to come back every 12 to distribute 2 hours worth of IV antibiotics in every 12 hours, at 8 am and 8 pm because you were bored. You asked the doctor about it behind my back. He said no. I told you to leave then, but you just pouted.
When I had anaphylaxis from the new oral antibiotics for recurring mastitis, and you didn’t want to go to the hospital. Said I was fine, even though my eyes were super swollen, palm-sized risen hives covered my body, face and head, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Doctors were shocked when I came in.
Despite what you say, YOU DON’T GIVE A FLYING FUCK.
Everyday: Good morning. I love you.
Everyday, a stupid lie.
Love. My Honey. Love of my life…
I fucking hate you right now.
I don’t even know who you are.