I love my husband. I really do. He is my favorite person in the world. But I hate being married. I hate the feeling of being relied on. I hate being held accountable for living a reasonable life. I hate being the weak one. I hate the look on his face when I have to admit a mistake. If it was just me, I could fuck everything up and no one would be the wiser. But being married, when I fuck up, not only is he a witness to my failure, but it actually makes his life harder.
Being married is like being laid bare. It is being surrounded by mirrors when you can’t stand your reflection. It is a reminder of how short you fall of what your partner deserves. And there’s no way out, because my suicide would actually destroy him, and who would divorce someone who loves them anyway? So I’m stuck being a disappointment day in and day out.
Fuck. I wouldn’t want to be married to me either.