I Want I Want I Want...

"When we did come together we always rechewed the bitter rinds of the same argument". Robin Hobb. More on that later.

Star was shot today. It's a fact now. I'll never see her again. I loved her- I did. Do. Silly horse that she was; I still do. My sweet girl. I'll miss her. Ahh; today, yesterday- where to begin.

I'm feeling pretty low and ordinary actually. I'm not good enough for my Hubby. He does want to fuck other girls; that much is certain- he's just not game to do it- I don't know why that is. I feel like an absolute doormat- and he's a hypocrite to the extreme. This shit doesn't make sense as usual; three entries and I've already confused the shit out of myself and everyone else who might be reading it. So why? Okay; in a Nut Shell I think my Hubby is a controlling shit. On the surface he says I can do what I like as long as I'm honest; but the truth is I can only do what I like as long as it's what he wants. And that's no shit. If I do what I want and he doesn't like it I'll pay the consequences. That might be the cold shoulder or out and out hostility; neither being good options. But if he does something that I don't like then I have to cop it sweet because he's perfect. In his eyes at least. I mean if I had a cock just a few inches from my mouth there would be trouble; but put a pussy near his and I should feel Grateful that he didn't stick his tongue into it- and should feel horny when he gets home after watching sex shows all night; the Reason why he is horny- and just put out. But if I want to go out there's hell to pay. Yeah; so theres no money left Because He Spent It All- and if he thinks he's going out tommorrow he's got another think coming. I'm gonna hide what's left as soon as I finish writing in here.

Another thing that is pissing me off is his attitude. He thinks I sat outside because I couldn't go out drinking. Hell; I'm drinking anyway. I knew he'd just go to sleep as soon as he was secure in the knowledge I wasn't going anywhere. He just wants to keep me here so he can control me. Bastard Ex comparisons spring to mind; shameful as that may be. I never wanted to go backwards but that seems to be what is happening.

So I'm stuck here again. I didn't go to the Swim Night for the same reason. Don't rock the boat. Good girl; do as he says- toe the line, keep in line, don't stand on people's toes. I am such- a what- a conformist. That's what I am. Just make sure you keep the others happy and fuck yourself over time and time again. Your feelings don't matter because you are Unimportant. What are you doing to yourself? I am sick of walking around on egg-shells; sick of not rocking the boat for fear of repercussions. Fuck; why can't I just be me? Everyone else is. I suppose it's not proper for me to enjoy myself and be happy. I suppose it's the Norm that I'm expected to do as I'm told. CONFORMIST CONFORMIST CONFORMIST LOSER!! Why not get drunk all the time? Nobody notices when I don't anyway. He wouldn't have noticed that I've only had four glasses of wine in five days. Why would he? He's so self-absorbed. I cry and cry out to him but he just doesn't get it. It really hurts and bothers me. I can't speak to him; he just ignores me or brushes me off. It's Never the right time to talk to him. Him Him Him. When is it my time? He doesn't care if I'm here now. I wish I was dead. No one would care except my Son. He's the only reason I'm still here. I would love to teach the other's a lesson; that being not to take things you supposedly love for granted. Hot Shit. This book is supposed to be my outlet for gratitude for fucksakes.

Okay; be grateful my Hubby didn't fuck the prostitutes at the Bikie Club. It's only because he didn't think they were attractive enough and because they weren't free. It had nothing to do with me. Be grateful that the first person who ever touched me sexually was over seventy years old. Be grateful that my horse is dead. Be grateful that I've been fucked over by just about everyone I've ever known. Be Grateful? Sure. As if.

I am grateful for my Son and my Hubby; but he only seems to care about me when it suits his needs. When I'm 'good' he likes me; he'll do anything for me. But if I do something that he doesn't like then I am Bad Buffoon and I have to pay the consequences. And I do. I'm sick of trying so hard for nothing. I'm sick of conforming to what is supposed to be right. What am I doing that is so wrong anyway? I don't want to hurt anyone; the only person I regularly hurt is me. I can be selfish and the rest; but I think as a whole I'm considered caring and dependable- trustworthy and loving. Why then do I always feel like I'm under scrutiny- why do I feel as if what I say or do doesn't count? I want to feel appreciated, loved and accepted. I want to feel like my opinions count and that I matter. And I want my judgement to be trusted. I want to feel loved all the time and not just when it suits; not just when things are going well.

No one knows Me. I don't even know me. I can't let 'me' out, either, because no one will understand me; not even me. It'll scare people. There's so much I want to say and do but I can't. I feel like I'm paralysed. I'm gonna get really drunk now and remember my Star. Goodbye Baby.