A Hard Truth
It's so frustrating. If I had more self esteem I would have kicked him out long ago.
You can't make him do anything. You can't expect him to appreciate anything either. I know he's using me. I can just look at receipts for the proof. He knows it too. And the worst part? He doesn't care and he doesn't care if I know that. It's as if he came into my life knowing I existed only to serve his needs and somehow our society just accepts this. People see us and they even see how he treats me, they say nothing. Once I was hosting a dinner party and he just walked through the room, glanced over his shoulder, stared daggers and walked out the front door. He was gone for days.
He hurts me. He physically attacks me sometimes. I have the marks to prove it if you don't believe me. One minute he's sweet, his cheek against my own and a moment later I'm bleeding. Nothing that would put me in the hospital but still… It's abuse. He does all these things with such graceful nonchalance it gives him this indisputable air of entitlement. I think that's the most unsettling part of the whole thing. He treats me like this because he knows he can, and I'll keep loving him.
This is why I'm a dog person. Cats are awful.