Dear Dirt bag. None of your rage makes sense. I heard you singing “I’m not here for a long time I’m here for a good time” with a shirt on the bed that said the same thing.

I asked you if i could ask a question and you immediately get an attitude and roll your eyes. I said nevermind. Then you kept on until i finally asked if the shirt was appropriate given the situation.

You flipped out. You took the shirt and cut it in half and threw it away. Why? I even asked why and you yelled that it was a stupid shirt and i always have a problem with everything.

I’m reading more books about abuse and cheaters. I’m listening to more guys who are healthy talk about how they live life and I’m finding out how sick you are. You are sick. You need help. I need to keep saving my money and going to therapy so that i can leave and not come back.

Ish's Dear Diary