I am nosey, but it is my guilty (masochistic) pleasure...

Well, I read erty's journal again. Oh, that little black book.

Why are there tons of big, black flies buzzing in the house?

Anyway, not one sentence mentions me. He does mention Dfgh once. He just mentioned that she was born. This makes me very sad. Because we less-than-seldom mentioned in his journal, does that mean that he just almost-never thinks of us? If so, I am sad.

Who was it who said that being a mother and a wife was blah blah blah, something about being unappreciated. I feel so depressed. Erty has a life. I do not. His life revolves around school, slashdot/computers, philosophy, reading, etc. etc. My life revolves around my daughter and him. Oh, yeah, and myself. I almost forgot about me.

I feel so angry and outraged. Other girls were mentioned. How he was distracted by them because there were just too many. When was the last time he was distracted by me?

When I met him, he talked about wanting to have a family blah blah blah so on and so forth. Now that he has one, all he does is do other things.

I wonder if he loves me. I guess so. I'm always talking about how love is a decision, but it seems so unfulfilling to say that my husband decided to love me. He made a rational decision to love me. It seems so.... obligation-ish and unfulfilling.

I sometimes wonder about how my life would have been like had I not gotten married/pregnant. I would probably still be living at home. Sad, verbally beaten down daily. What if I had not met Erty? That's a scary thought. I wonder if he gets scared thinking about how his life would have been without me. Have I only made a little impact on his life? I feel like I have. And the little impact I've made seems so negative. If I asked him, he'd probably agree. This depresses me. Now why is the thought of not ever meeting Erty scary? Because he's shaped so much of who I am. Surprisingly enough, I like who I am. But would I have liked who I would be had I not met him?

I feel pathetic. Look how much of my little online journal has been devoted to him and my daughter and compare it with how much of his journal is devoted to my dauther and to me.

I does't share with me anymore. Why. Has he found someone else to share with? He's exactly who he used to be around the time I met him. He had a bunch of secret ideas/thoughts/conclusions that he had and didn't share with anyone. But he shared them with me. Now, it seems like the little hermit has taken over again, and he's shut even me out.

I always told him marriage was bad. Infatuation is magical. It makes normal peeople and normal day occurances feel out-of-this-world and extraordinary. So before, when I was someone special, he shared his special thoughts with me. Now, I'm just normal. A permanent fixture in his life. Just a background buzz. Nothing out of the ordinary at all.

Erty still excites me. When he comes home, I can't wait for him to talk to me, can't wait for him to share his day like he used to. He never asks about my days anymore. I guess I don't blame him, but I wish he would. I feel like I burden him when I try to tell him about my day. As if he had something better to do (which he probably feels he does).

I think he's going to regret it one day. I know I don't mean this to be vindictive, but I have a feeling God will ask him about his life and how he tended to God's greatest gifts to him--his family. And he'll be speechless. Is it bad that he tends to us with an empty sense of obligation? I wish he loved us (the feeling, not the decision) more.

Or maybe I'm just asking too much.

I wonder when I'll be able to say, "I've lived life..."

Ah, so another one of these things. Wonderful. I made Erty's breakfast/lunch today. Only after getting 6 hours of sleep. Now would he have done this for me under the same conditions? Probably not. Is it good that I keep score? No. Should he even be held accountable for not hypothetically making my lunch due to his sleep apnea? I'd like to say yes, but my gut tells me no. I don't know I know how to love people due to their intrinsic natures. I don't know. I was thinking about it, and my parents' love seemed sort of conditional, which, after a bit of consideration, kind of pisses me off. Their kindness always seemed to be contingent on my grades, whether I was being obedient or not, blah, blah, blah.

Want to know how I came to this sad realization (the sad realization being I don't know how to love people due to their intrinsic natures)? While I was making Eman's lunch today, I thought in half-dazed wakefulness, damn, he better love me now. Then, my proverbial ears perked, and I realized, why would he love me more because I'm making him a sandwich? At best, it should just make him nicer to me, but I ought to not think that making him a sandwich would make him love me more. Would I love him more if he made me a sandwich? You know what my answer was? A sad "yes." I think I'm mixing up love and pleasure (ha-ha-ha). It ought to please me that he made me a sandwich.

So my goal? Love Erty for who he is. I will try to work on that for the next three months. I hope it works. Uhmmm. I guess I should make a list about what makes him, him. I'll do it tomorrow, I guess.

I asked Emmanuel to affirm me more. He said he would. He hasn't. I sometimes wonder if it's because there's nothing to affirm. This makes me terrible sad.

Damn, the bitch upstairs is awfully loud.

Another thing, it seems that--ah, I started typing this, then I itched, and when I was going to resume, I realized I forgot what I was going to say.

If that noisy, rhino bitch wakes Daphne up, I'm going to... I wish I could do something. I hope she falls through the ceiling one day hopefully when no one is in her way.