It is impossible to tell exactly how many times a day I remind myself: love is patient, love is kind. I know it is often… I am so torn between being a good wife and sticking it out through what might well end up being a duration of “for worse” on the way to “for better” versus getting the hell out from under the painful wreck. I feel alone. All the time. This is heartache, can’t you see? Can you just stop?
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