I can’t be perfect.
I can’t be what he wants me to be.
He used to have sympathy. As long as he thought my illness meant I could still give him love and affection.
Think of emotions as being a mental resource, which you *do* have a finite amount of. He doesn’t understand I am running on an empty tank. Maybe fumes by now.
It doesn’t matter. Now he’s just angry. Now he just wants me to “stop” being crazy and just be normal.
He now shares my stepmother’s ideas that in order to help another person improve, just be angry and resentful to them. No, he doesn’t even want to help anymore.
I can’t any more. I can’t do anything anymore. I can’t pretend anymore. He just demands more and more, when there’s barely anything left.
There is no compromise now. Everything is my fault now, including his snoring. There’s only anger now in him. If I could magically transform overnight, maybe things would be fine. If only I could be happy with my gender role.
There is no way to refill the tank. There hasn’t been any additions in a long time. There isn’t much time left, I think. I am steadily being worn down. Every day I feel like a sub-human for not wearing makeup, not styling my hair, not being flirty and s3xual enough. Or
God, when will it end?