he hates me because i always bring up cuba, always, everyday. he hates me because i critisice his friends, his coworkers, his gambling, his smoking pot, his addictive personality, his flirtatious nature, his badass attitude, his ailing health and body, the girls he's done drugs with, maddy, courtney, alana, heidi, stephanie, kiana, sasha, how he refuses to be passionate, how he hates pleasuring me, how he hates when i speak, he hates my taste in fashion, he hates that i'm going to europe in january, he hates my family, he hates the idea of being whipped so he is mean to me, he hates the yelling in my house, he hates when i play music, he hates my drums, he hates my dog, he hates my facial expressions, he hates when i ask him questions about his night of drinking or gambling or the night he cheated on me. now he's going downtown for his buddy's birthday, a strip club. lap dances. naked girls. weed. gambling. drinking. i hope he doesn't start drinking tonight. after almost a month without drinking. i feel like shit right now. i want to die. always. it gets ignored, pushed to the back of my mind, but the urge to be dead is always around, lurking and springing forth whenever something brings me down. but he still calls me sweetheart in text message, such as "hey sweetheart". he has so much of my heart, he hurts me because of it, fuck him. i deserve better. but do i? bulemia, depression, self-mutilation = self destructive bitch who will never find love besides this scum bag cheating asshole. fuck i don't know.