I asked him, if there will be a 3 year anniversary to "celebrate". He answered, "I don't know. Maybe, maybe not."
Today has been the worst day of my life.
I hate my room. I hate my house. I'm beginning to hate everything and everyone. My bed faces a canvas photo print of our wedding day. I hate seeing the smiles on our faces. I feel like I want to scratch out my eyes (the ones in the photo) and burn the whole canvas down, but I don't because my mum would ask questions and I hate answering questions about our relationship right now. It was a lie. everything was a lie. Our life was a lie. Our love - was a lie.
He doesn't love me. That reminder rings in my head every single minute of every day.
My own husband doesn't love me.
How does one move on from this?
I don't have many friends. None that I can talk to about this. They knew us from when we were happy, and I don't want to tell them that we no longer are. I don't have ex-boyfriends. Basically, the only person who i thought was my person - THE person, doesn't love me.
He used to do the sweetest things. Like call me when he was driving to work. Make me ice-cream sundaes on Sundays. Text me "I love you" on random occasions. Call me just to say, I love you and I wanted to hear your voice.
The only thing I have right now is my baby. Our baby. And it's awful to think this, but sometimes I wish I didn't have her. That I'm not pregnant. It took me over a year to conceive and it's terrible, awful, despicable of me to have this thought. It's not that I don't love her, I do so so much. I loved her before she even was. But the only reason is, then it wouldn't be so hard to just do it. take a few dozen sleeping pills. run off the road onto oncoming traffic. inject myself with potassium. whatever. whichever.
now i have her to think about, and even though she technically saved my life (my daughter, the lifesaver - even in utero!) - I sort of resent her for it too.
I don't have much to live for already, and every breath I take just pushes this heaviness in my chest deeper and deeper within. I am forced to continue this insipid life of mine.
Today has been the worst day of my life.
I hate my room. I hate my house. I'm beginning to hate everything and everyone. My bed faces a canvas photo print of our wedding day. I hate seeing the smiles on our faces. I feel like I want to scratch out my eyes (the ones in the photo) and burn the whole canvas down, but I don't because my mum would ask questions and I hate answering questions about our relationship right now. It was a lie. everything was a lie. Our life was a lie. Our love - was a lie.
He doesn't love me. That reminder rings in my head every single minute of every day.
My own husband doesn't love me.
How does one move on from this?
I don't have many friends. None that I can talk to about this. They knew us from when we were happy, and I don't want to tell them that we no longer are. I don't have ex-boyfriends. Basically, the only person who i thought was my person - THE person, doesn't love me.
He used to do the sweetest things. Like call me when he was driving to work. Make me ice-cream sundaes on Sundays. Text me "I love you" on random occasions. Call me just to say, I love you and I wanted to hear your voice.
The only thing I have right now is my baby. Our baby. And it's awful to think this, but sometimes I wish I didn't have her. That I'm not pregnant. It took me over a year to conceive and it's terrible, awful, despicable of me to have this thought. It's not that I don't love her, I do so so much. I loved her before she even was. But the only reason is, then it wouldn't be so hard to just do it. take a few dozen sleeping pills. run off the road onto oncoming traffic. inject myself with potassium. whatever. whichever.
now i have her to think about, and even though she technically saved my life (my daughter, the lifesaver - even in utero!) - I sort of resent her for it too.
I don't have much to live for already, and every breath I take just pushes this heaviness in my chest deeper and deeper within. I am forced to continue this insipid life of mine.
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