I So Hate My Husband: After Many Months of Contemplating

Tuesday, July 3, 2018

After Many Months of Contemplating

After many months of contemplating what to do, I finally, finally decided --

--- that I need to have something new in my life.

2 comments:

AnonymousFebruary 2, 2019 at 4:40 AM
I just found this blog by googling "I hate my husband". I hate him deeply but trying to hide it as hard as I can. I don't know what or why I'm doing. I'm just trying to behave like a forgiving, understanding and loyal wife because if I let my instincts take the control I'm afraid I'm going to lose my shit and kill him, actually. I also need to do this to feel better and pay respect to myself in a twisted sense of happiness, I guess. I don't want to break up with him, nor to see him dead. I just want to kill him with my bare hands. But I also want to bury myself alive for taking this shit. At least I have a slight hope that it'll lower to a more bearable level after my pregnancy. I don't believe it, but try to hope. I hope we all know and can do wtf to do.
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Lone LyJuly 10, 2020 at 5:29 PM
Dear Anonymous,

Thank you for your message. My apologies for not being able to see this sooner. I hope you have managed to get hold of your life without your husband, and have moved on beautifully in life.

As for me, I a still in a rut, and this blog has resurfaced so many times to help me from the hustle and bustle of having to deal with my Fucktard.
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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)