I think this is it. I think I'm giving up.
This isn't some melodramatic call for help or cry for attention.
This is me giving up on you.
I have to take it, this is the just worst. I have to take more of the abuse, this is the sickness you promised to care for. Your mental illness meant my happiness was no longer allowed.
For better or worse, in sickness and in health.
The promise you made to love me, you used to shelter your abuse.
But, the "better" never came. And, you're not even trying to sort what's in your head.
I can't be forever waiting for something that will never happen, and now, even if it does...
it would already be at much too high a cost.
All I have now are questions, and anger....or hurt.
If you ever loved me.