The stress is overwhelming.
I see no end in sight and every option I come up with ends with him taking the kids. My friends tell me to let him have them. My only reason for living. Just hand them over.
Right now, this is the only private place I can talk.
The only thing keeping me from driving my car off a bridge is knowing he would never let them read any letters I left behind telling them I love them. They would grow up believing their mother hated them enough to kill herself.
By the way...I officially can only pay insurance. Even if I don't pay it, I am still short on my rent.
It will forever get worse.
And he drives around in two brand new cars proud that his testicles made a lucky sperm.
The Literate Spam Guild
The original literate chatterbox.
Reply | ||||||
|
|