I sometimes wish you would be hit by a bus, but only if you push your mother in front of it first.
I hate your mother. I hate the fact that your fear of her is stronger than your self-respect or your love for me. I hate sharing my home with her. I hate having her constantly hovering over us, especially when you're not home and I'm alone with the kids and she's constantly double-checking to make sure I'm not off on the corner smoking crack with my pimp and leaving them alone to play in traffic. I hate the fact that she might outlive you. I hate the fact that my hatred of her is sometimes as strong as my love for you.
Don't get all pissy at ME when I don't mail the bills out. YOU gave them
to me at the last minute and said they HAD to be mailed out TODAY. YOU
waited until the LAST DAY to pay them and expected ME to drop everything
to mail them. You want them out TODAY? Mail them out today your OWN
SELF!! Know how to use a stamp? GOOD!!
On your days off don't call me at the office to pretend to ask me how my day is going. I hear the cupboards slamming, I hear the refrigerator door. So it's no shock to me that as soon as you get the pleasantries over with you ask me if there's anything to eat, or what you should have for lunch. I swear to god you will forever be 8 years old. But the thing is you're 33 years old, and I am not your mother. So grow the fuck up and make yourself a sandwich.
You know what, asshole? I'm sick and tired of being the one to find and
kill the mouse. I'm tired of being the one to relight the pilot light
or being the one to refill the propane tank because you're too fucking
scared you'll blow up. Guess I'm the disposable one, eh? I'm also damn
sick of being the shield you use to deflect conflict from your fucked
up family. I kept your house, cooked your meals, washed your clothes,
jacked you off (and got nothing in return but a sticky hand), and put
up with your infidelity. NO MORE, ASSWIPE! I'm beyond done with you.
Your psycho mother can have you back. Tell her to bring out that while
dress she wore to our wedding; she'll need it to marry you.
If we lived closer, I would be in his arms right now instead of yours.
I know you married me out of a sense of duty because I was pregnant. I know I drive you crazy. I know I can't cook or clean and am a terrible housewife. I know I can be incredibly moody and irritable. I know I don't compare to your ex-wife. I know you don't love me. But thank you for not saying it out loud.
Quit wetting the bed and pretending it didn't happen or acting like you don't know why it happened. It happens every time you drink half a bottle of whiskey before bed, which has been at least once a week for the last two and a half years.
Farting is not that funny. Especially when you do it. Then it's just disgusting. I swear you must be eating beans all day long at work, because your gas is beyond toxic.
I really wish you'd do something about all of that back hair. Its really gross.
It makes me uneasy -- how you are able to just turn your emotions on and off like a switch. It makes me wonder how much I can trust you.