I often wish that a sick bastard who likes to murder people would choose me as their victim. Not only would my husband then be able to collect on the life insurance money, and be able to mourn my death without thoughts of what-if, but he would be the only person who has ever known how my dark thoughts spiral. I am sick of being a burden to him– he is too good to be tied to someone so depressive and anxious. I wasn’t like this when we were married. Well, I was, but I never let the thoughts out, and I felt I could […]
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