Crying is tiring. Not crying is more tiring.

There’s so much at work that stresses me out. There’s plenty of stress at home. What the fuck is happiness?

youtube.com/shorts/uEKLK... Oooh. Maybe this is what my brain is doing…

CAN I HAVE ONE FUCKING DAY WITHOIT ANY STRESS?! I can’t just answer The phone at work. I CANT JUST ACCEPT THAT YOU GOT SCRATCHED BY OUR CAT JUMPING OFF THE LOFT WHILE IM AT WORK! FUUCK!

“I don’t want you playing sexualized characters“ says the man who sexualizes me constantly and then gets mad when I try and find a wrench he left at the other apartment. Sorry. He didn’t lose it. “I did”…

Every day I feel like I’m gaslighting myself. “Oh, he’s planning for our future. Oh! He’s busy at home unpacking while I’m at work. Oh! He’s caring for my mother as well” and then I look out at my sealed 3D printer, my headset in the bedroom drawer, the camera in the closet…

I’m going to be doing a lot more unpacking from the move before I can go into writing/drawing again. Hopefully I’ll be in the creative mood for blender maybe …

I like to theorize that because Jax and Ragatha would abstract fighting each other...

I want to draw…

I feel like I’m cucking myself. I watch this woman not feel anything as her husband can’t keep a steady pace enough to make her finish… I kept on a blindfold to help and he is starting to pull at my hair, but I still feel nothing.

I hate questioning myself because I make myself feel guilty over seeing him as toxic. Someone has to have the same home being obsession or else it’s going to have to be my mother...

I hate coming home drained because I’m never recovering. Retail work sucks and I’m just happy I have the benefits to scrape on a fake smile.

I pray today be the day I have a heart attack so I can tell my husband it was never the caffeine fucking with my heart to miss beats.

I get he is your childhood friend. Stop inviting me. I don’t get along with the rich asshole like you. I get no fun out of this. Make it about you two because at least you two can vape while I die inside with my only thing to trauma dump to bring a plush.

Also, RIGHT BEFORE FUCKING WORK! Your grandma said she’d be fine to drive me because you were up til 2 IN THE MORNING FIXING HIS FLIGHT TO TONIGHT. $250 a ticket and I get antagonized for wanting a $40 plush of quality.

He woke up pissed off at me for going downstairs to not be loud in the bathroom. I had to get my work shit together. “Oh, you’re just going on Bluesky. You just don’t want to communicate“ Well get me a fucking autism diagnosis instead of waking up to call me stupid.

My husband has the world’s richest friend. he refuses to date or leave his parents lifestyle. He works making 20 times what I make. I ask for a Jax plushie once when he’s buying a Nintendo switch 2 just to have the doc, and they joke about returning the plush. I have no friends. I’m an accessory

All my life I lived in fear…

I miss drawing…

Sometimes I wake up before him and drown out the world with YouTube so I don’t have to feel alone… I wish I could play my characters…

Of course it was all for sex…

I hate you. You can make friends that are boarders away, keep friends that hold countless riches that we will never have. I want to act like you never existed in my life, but every once in a while… just once… you do one thing right…

Every time his friend is like “you hear that? Your husband is paying!” Jokingly, I am grabbing my leg from saying “with what money?”, because I pay for everything of my husbands… I am his disability fund.

They’re joking about going somewhere while I’m at work.. they joke like they haven’t done it before… Am I not fun?

“Why are you acting like this?“ I just come out to join the fun This time. You guys are getting the doc. Just say I’m not friends with your friend. Let me leave you both alone. Stop making me guilty for the fact I wanted a god damn coffee. I even tipped the Dutch bros people.

Nothing says wife like “here’s a coffee. I didn’t look up the word granita so I hope it doesn’t mean alcohol “. freeze my tits off with the only coffee I’ve had today. I wouldve asked for a hot hazel caramel.

I don’t even want to go to dinner at this point. They’re childhood friends. I’m just the bitch he got by being anxious guilt with a dead father. I still think about the fact he had a file on his computer of his ex girlfriends nudes he showed me. Idk if he still has it now but i Still remember…

Oh my god. No “You want a coffee too?”, no kiss goodbye? Just “oh, you’re awake, my buddy’s getting coffee so I’m riding with him.“ He didn’t even say bye! He’s just as done with me as I am him I guess. it’s like he only clings to me for his own benefit but when it’s his friend, I just am a prop.

My only saving grace is that I can take a nap on the couch and not be disturbed. He’s so clingy… I have to play dead for an hour…

He started getting pissed off that nothing warned him the roads were under construction… Blamed the fact I wasn’t driving yet… He wonders why I have fucking anxiety…

Every day is ruined knowing I have to work for nothing. I don’t get to enjoy my hobbies because he will get jealous… I just open Amazon and pretend I’m planning on shopping with the unknown amount of money I have.

His friend is over for the next few days. More days I can’t cry. Maybe I’ll find time in the hopes they both do something without me… I feel like an accessory…

I am at the edge of my fucking rope

I know I used the word damn it. Im quoting my husband because at this point it’s hurting me.

I rub your legs every morning to keep you moving. I go and move heavy stuff up and down the stairs after every 6-8 hour shift at work to keep you comfortable. I make coffee every morning with yours to start and make sure your food is served extra hot… But no. I mishear so much… I’m retarded…

I’ve been with you when your dad died a week into us even meeting. I’ve been with you ever since you died drinking so damn much. I’ve been with you when your mom died in her room without a word. I know you’re suffering… you just don’t know I’ve been suffering too... I’m just retarded to you…

all this moving and we fight over the fact he can’t say “can you turn on the kitchen light please?” Like… “I suggest you turn on the light switch” is just a jumble of bs in my brain. No wonder I couldn’t hear you. FUCKING ASK. NICELY.

seriously, someone pay him like… 400k so he can have me off his hands and so I can stop being blamed for his problems.

“I hate that we moved. It’s so much noisier“ We grew up in this same situation not even a month ago, 2 years ago, 6 years ago, and especially you knew what the apartment was going to bring. We got it because it was cheaper. We need to save money.

He proposed to me… I said yes… I was on the verge of wanting to give up… Why did I say yes…

I don’t love you like I use to because I felt like I had an expression. Now my shitty resin 3d printer is sealed, my vr headset hides in a drawer, my sketchbooks are untouched, and I let you fuck me despite saying no Because my stomach hurts. You won’t listen. I am dead.

“I just don’t like seeing you disappear behind social media” I literally met you on fucking tinder so I could get away from my mom. Now she has to live with us because she fucked up. You have seen for years that I am FUCKED. You DRANK YOURSELF TO DEATH IN FRONT OF ME!

He’s just going to keep blaming me for his mistakes. “I don’t mean it” as he blames me for him slicing his own palm on the box. “I just get emotional” he says after blaming me for jamming his finger in the door. I’m so emotionally numb I cant even lie to him about my false orgasms anymore.

ive been caught. wish me luck on getting therapy. Vivian and Ragatha are on hiatus until I shoot myself or get a divorce. I can’t believe I’m living with my mother again. I am in hell.

God. I have the ashes of my grandfather who cheated instead of divorcing in my home. I know it’s not genetic because my mom was adopted but the whole fucking family line to me is still fucked.

Just had a dream where Jeffery beeps revived my childhood minpin so I could give her one last goodbye as she was announced fucking dying on my 16th birthday. Jumped to me in the middle of what should be a busy street dancing to “lay me down” like I’m trying to end it.

I am having moments where I just imagine my own corpse of a body dragged by characters I either enjoy, use to enjoy, or made. youtu.be/WVpjBuAxjMo?...

The last time I was me was when I was 6… then I had heart surgery.