Waiting for your love

I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of understanding you. I’m tired of hoping for nothing. I’m tired of seeking for your damn time. Above all, I’m tired of loving. **Love and happiness are more important than money!**

Life was exciting. We enjoyed nights out, exotic holidays, I felt loved and wanted. We married. Then everything changed. I soon realised that I wasn’t your priority and never would be.

You no longer have any zest for life, no interest in anything other than your work. Conversation is one-way, no questions are asked and responses to anything I might pose are one Sided. Meals have only ever been cooked by me and you stop attempted to prepare anything, I have asked that you try but to no avail. At night, we lie side by side, never touching, never speaking. I cry myself to sleep, my tears don’t get me anywhere, no one can hear. You haven’t touched me. All I want is to be held, to be told I am appreciated, to enjoy life’s simple adventures with the man I am meant to share my life and my world with. You are irritated by any plans I make to ensure our free time as a family is spent as best we can together. All you want to do is sleep. Yes you work full-time and I don’t, you treat me as your intellectual inferior. When your work day has finished, however, mine continues Laundry, preparing meals for us, food shopping, running with the boys, buying presents for parties, constant reminders. The pressure is often more than I can bear. I want to scream: “Where is the man I fell in love with?”

The pain is most palpable when we are among people who are clearly very much in love. The slightest touch that speaks volumes, a kiss on the neck which induces the saddest feeling within me simply in the knowledge that you will never do that to me. I need moments like those; they should be my fuel rather than the anger that now replaces the love that once was. I acknowledge that I am in a hopeless situation and I freely accept that I have allowed it to get this bad. When I have mentioned it to my mother the response is always, “Darling, he works very hard, please don’t put pressure on him.” I don’t respond. I want to weep and my heart breaks a little bit more. Your approach to life is the antithesis of mine. I want to laugh until it hurts; I don’t remember the last time you laughed. I want to run into your arms when you come home, and I want you to run into mine. I want to share the load. Love me again