I So Hate My Husband: I Really Hate You

Sunday, April 13, 2014

I Really Hate You

Once again you left me crying alone. Every time I cry because of you, you leave me to lick my own wounds. All the more I feel that I want to leave you. If not for my children, I would have left you long ago.

I could not even take it that when you see my heart broken because of you, you manage to sleep on me. I hate you, and if I could live my life all over again, I would have chosen to take another man instead of you. Sadly, I cannot turn back time, and have to live with you for the rest of my life.

My parents were not wise enough to leave me with a property I can run or go to whenever I feel like leaving you. So now I am stuck here in this house with you. I hate you. I truly, really, superbly hate you.

5 comments:

AnonymousOctober 4, 2014 at 9:37 AM
Youre not stuck. Life is so short dont waste it with a loser. Xxxooo. Im working on getting out. I have no family no money or job. But will find a way..
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AnonymousDecember 21, 2014 at 1:42 PM
Hi Taran Tula. Good luck on your endeavor re getting out from your rut. I wish I could do the same. I have kids, and there's two of them. I don't know how I could support both if I leave. Let me know when you have accomplished your great goal.
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JenaphurJanuary 23, 2015 at 2:01 AM
I googled "I hate my husband" and this us what I found. I appreciate your anger and look forward to reading your blog in the future.
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Evening Solace

THE human heart has hidden treasures,
In secret kept, in silence sealed;–
The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,
Whose charms were broken if revealed.
And days may pass in gay confusion,
And nights in rosy riot fly,
While, lost in Fame's or Wealth's illusion,
The memory of the Past may die.

But, there are hours of lonely musing,
Such as in evening silence come,
When, soft as birds their pinions closing,
The heart's best feelings gather home.
Then in our souls there seems to languish
A tender grief that is not woe;
And thoughts that once wrung groans of anguish,
Now cause but some mild tears to flow.

And feelings, once as strong as passions,
Float softly back–a faded dream;
Our own sharp griefs and wild sensations,
The tale of others' sufferings seem.
Oh! when the heart is freshly bleeding,
How longs it for that time to be,
When, through the mist of years receding,
Its woes but live in reverie!

And it can dwell on moonlight glimmer,
On evening shade and loneliness;
And, while the sky grows dim and dimmer,
Feel no untold and strange distress–
Only a deeper impulse given
By lonely hour and darkened room,
To solemn thoughts that soar to heaven,
Seeking a life and world to come.

~ Charlotte Brontë (1816-1855)