I’m so tired of being the only one who worries; who’s worried. When will you understand I can’t live like this? It’s not okay. Everything won’t be okay. I’m tired of making do. Of having to. Of then worrying if we even can make do, as if that’s all there is to aspire to. You’re acceptance and complacency is killing me. I can’t turn things around on my own. I shouldn’t be the only one of us who wants to. The only one who realises that living like this isn’t viable. It’s killing me. It was never meant to be permanent. I would never have stayed if i’d known. I trusted you to make things better. I trusted you to want to.
Why can’t you want better? Why aren’t you fucking bothered by it?
Is this really how our kids should be growing up? Fuck you. Fuck me. Do it for them.
I know you’re trying. If you’d tried sooner, it would never have got to this.
So i’ll worry. And you won’t. Because that’s how we roll.