Prologue
I wish I was brave enough to tell you how I really feel.
How I don't enjoy spending time with you anymore because of all the times you told me to get the fuck out you're with your friends.
How I don't feel safe with you anymore because of all the times you've hit me.
How miserable you make me feel by calling me stupid, retarded, idiot, dense, worthless, useless, dumb, pathetic, and ugly.
How little you make me feel because of you belittling every dream I have.
How unimportant you make me feel because you don't think it's necessary to take me out.
How unwanted you make me feel because of all the time you spend on your phone and video games.
How unheard you make me feel because when you promise you won't do it again, you do it.
How mean you are by talking badly about my dead parents every other day.
How I don't trust you because you're the one that causes most of the pain.
You ask me every time we have sex "how come I don't enjoy it?". It's because of all the trauma you put me through emotionally and physically.
Every time you call me ugly and fat, do you think I want to show you my body?
Every time I ask you to please not to punch me again and you do, do you think I will trust you intimately?
Every time I tell you I don't feel comfortable doing something new sexually and you still do it, do you think I will be excited next time we have sex?
Every time I ask for help and you don't, do you think I will rely on you?
The answers to these questions are NO.
You ask me to trust you.
You ask me to express my feeling to you.
You ask me to be open.
You ask me to smart.
You ask me to be normal.
You ask me to show you love.
You ask me to spend time with you.
You ask me to cuddle with you.
You ask me to bring money home.
You ask me to make sure our home is clean.
You ask me to make sure your paper work for your company is done.
You ask me to make sure you are fed.
You ask me to pay the bills.
You ask me to make sure everything is perfect.
You ask me for all these things and I do them.
In return I get punched in the stomach if I didn't put enough salt on your steak.
I wish I was able not to be scared of you and sit down and tell you all these things.
But most importantly, I wish I could tell you I don't love you anymore.
