He doesn’t get how much I need someone to talk to. He won’t listen to my issues. He thinks I’m “just fine;” that I don’t need any help. I’m a wreck. And not having an outlet makes me feel worse. He spews nothing but hatred most of the time, and it fuels whatever rage is built in THEIR minds. I don’t like it.
He doesn’t realize that as he slept, I stood over him with a knife because they told me to, and the noise was to great to stop myself. He doesn’t understand that when I’m driving, I hope a bigger vehicle barrels into the driver’s side and kills me instantly. I have flashbacks to the recent accident and wish I had died right then and there. I’m afraid to be in vehicles because of that accident; I see it all of the time. I see other cars getting into accidents. I see things that aren’t there like tiny people doing things they shouldn’t, blood dripping from surfaces. I hear so many things. Just noise or voices, malevolent and benign. Most days I don’t want to deal with the kids or him or myself. I don’t shower on my days off because of those times. I don’t want to deal with people in the least because it gives me pains in my chest and my head. I want to die most days. He wants to get a gun, but he doesn’t know the reason I don’t want a gun in the house is because I’m guaranteed to take it and go off somewhere to take my own life with it.
These are the issues I run away from. These are just some of the things he doesn’t want to know about. These are some of the things that make me such a broken person. Sigh.