My Dear-1
Letter to D
D. I am sorry it had to be done this way. It must have been overwhelming to hear the frustrations of a five year marriage, in one night, over the phone, nine thousand miles away. I have always wanted to tell you how difficult it is for me: to hear you lie all the time, to nod in mock agreement, when you deny having feelings for S. And how draining it is for me to console you after one of your emotional outbursts, when it's me that's hurting. I hate: how you never call me at work, and make me feel guilty by saying you did not want to 'disturb' me, when I ask. Believe me, sometimes, I want to be disturbed. How it's always me, that has to make up, regardless of whose fault it is. It really drives me nuts, your indifference. How it is always about your parents and brother and nothing else matters, not even me. How when it comes to them, money is no object. And how when it came to money, it's always ours if it's mine and only yours if it's yours. How you do not want to take responsibility for anything, everything that's wrong, including your health is mine or someones fault, but never yours. How we cannot have kids. How you always want to do the fun stuff, like browse the shops, but do not want to do the serious stuff, like wait in line at the cashier's. How little you've invested in this relationship, emotionally or otherwise, but demand so much from it. Family and friends tell me I was foolish, that I should have seen this. But how do I tell them, that this is the only way I know to love, giving it everything, installments are for mortgages. G.
D. I am sorry it had to be done this way. It must have been overwhelming to hear the frustrations of a five year marriage, in one night, over the phone, nine thousand miles away. I have always wanted to tell you how difficult it is for me: to hear you lie all the time, to nod in mock agreement, when you deny having feelings for S. And how draining it is for me to console you after one of your emotional outbursts, when it's me that's hurting. I hate: how you never call me at work, and make me feel guilty by saying you did not want to 'disturb' me, when I ask. Believe me, sometimes, I want to be disturbed. How it's always me, that has to make up, regardless of whose fault it is. It really drives me nuts, your indifference. How it is always about your parents and brother and nothing else matters, not even me. How when it comes to them, money is no object. And how when it came to money, it's always ours if it's mine and only yours if it's yours. How you do not want to take responsibility for anything, everything that's wrong, including your health is mine or someones fault, but never yours. How we cannot have kids. How you always want to do the fun stuff, like browse the shops, but do not want to do the serious stuff, like wait in line at the cashier's. How little you've invested in this relationship, emotionally or otherwise, but demand so much from it. Family and friends tell me I was foolish, that I should have seen this. But how do I tell them, that this is the only way I know to love, giving it everything, installments are for mortgages. G.
posted by ammani at 3:37 AM
5 Comments:
Wonderfully written
> installments are for mortgages
Lady, I doff my hat to you.
This is probably true in many marriages. It is a question of perception. Well written.
PS: [dadoji] I thought all along that it was a man writing the post.
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"Installments are for mortgages" Profound indeed. You are a true giver.
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