Why do you leave the room when you make phone calls?
Why do you text/call your mother more than 5x a day?
Why, why do you question me so much - where I went, where I'm going, how long I was there, what man was I talking to, etc.?
Why do you automatically think to another man if I'm quiet, contemplative, happy, upset with you or have something on my mind?
Why do you think I am constantly looking for another man?
Why don't you trust me?
Why do you have so many female friends on Facebook?
Why do you continue to use Facebook so much daily?
Why do you interact with these women even when you know it hurts me?
Why do you expect me to support your mother - who has her own income with my money, when she is perfectly capable to provide for herself and not to mention she has a husband with more than enough money to give her what she needs.
Why is it now my responsibility to not only buy her a car instead of myself, but cut my dreams and goals short to ensure she has what she wants?
Why do I have of spend all of my money before you decide to help out anymore?
Why do you think that's fair when I was the one badly hurt in a crash?
No one was with me, I was hit.
Not your mother.
Why do you, when you talk to your family about our household (financially) you say 'I' paid this or that instead of telling the truth that I, not you pay ALL the bills except for two.
Why did we need to drive 2 1/2 hours across the state to purchase the exact car you wanted with my income tax money, in cash after you persuaded me to buy a car that was just okay that I am now stuck with payments on that you said you'd help me with but now, nearly 6 months into this, I've made every payment on my own.
Why did you allow me to add you to my cell phone account when you knew all along that you were not going to help me with the bill.
You say you love me, but just reading back over these questions makes me feel some type of way.
I feel used and under appreciated much of the time.
You're only affectionate when you want some type of sexual activity.
You never take responsibility for your actions - like when we came
home from the club that night and we argued (about trust issues) and you hit me across the face and shoved me into the dresser and onto the floor.
You denied it happening the next day despite my face being sore for the rest of the week.
Or the other time we got drunk at home and you forced me to have sex, you forced me to have anal sex against my will.
That is rape - I don't dare say it out loud but I have been raped before - you know this, yet you find nothing wrong with what you did because I am your wife.
In your mind, you own me.
You typically exclaim that you don't 'beat my ass' or 'cheat on me everyday' as your excuse for being a 'good guy'.
I didn't marry who I thought I did.

Who did I marry?
A man who claims to love me who only behaves as if he possesses me.
You don't trust me, but you are the one who has cheated - more than once.
Because you think I'm beautiful, I am not to be trusted?
I have to sit and accept your rants about the disdain of women - women like me and women in general.
'Women can't be trusted.', 'Women are sneaky liars.', 'All women have a whorish past.', 'Whenever a woman says she's slept with 5 men, add five more to get the truth.'
I take these jabs personally because, news flash, I am a woman.

My opinions are baseless with you.
I could tell you these things, in fact I've attempted to in the past.
Only to be laughed at and told that I am irrational, PMSing, being a 'typical bitch' or just wrong/lying.
It usually ends in a brutal argument - in the distant/not so distant past that have escalated to violence.

You claim to be my best friend - truth is, you are my only friend.
I'm isolated with no family, and this is a weakness for me.
You know this.
You are and have been my only support system morally and financially at times.
True, I can care for myself now but my loyal nature can't forget or ignore the past.
When I had no one but you.
Even when you cheated and destroyed my world, I only had you to turn to.
How sad.
It still hurts today to think about how pathetic I've become.
Sometimes I sit and wonder just how many more years can I hold on until our youngest is old enough to deal with a split.
Waiting it out is my life some days.
Trying to be happy with what I have - secretly hoping I will have a real reason to change my mind.

Sometimes I sit and wish I could have the old you back.
The sweet you.
The kind you who always put me first.
But then I come back to reality after realizing - the old you never really existed.
It was just my 'idea' of you at the time.
Years later, you've told me and shown me time and time again exactly who you are.
You're not a bad man, you're not.
I figured maybe I should try loving the man you really are, instead of my old ideas of the man I married.
It's hard.

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