I told Sam that I hate living here. He said still? How can I not hate this? The fucking screaming at each other. Ros said that it is their way of spicing up their marriage, everyday life. I wish it really was. I hate them. I hate the tinny screech of his voice. They sound like two aunties quarreling. Yes, he does sound like a freaking female. What gives him the right? Today he flipped out. Three times. In one day. Why? Because he has no one to scream at because he does not go to work. So he screams at the taxi driver who block his way, me, his wife. He say we are finding excuses. Why the hell did he marry that stupid woman that he thinks is the dumbest, most useless woman on earth? And make everyone’s life difficult? Effective, efficient. Those are his favourite words. How I hate them. Those words. I have listened to his screechy voice for almost twenty five years. Twenty five freaking years of holding my tongue and not being able to say what I think and believe. Twenty five long years of holding back the hand that I want to hit out, of holding back the tears I refuse to let drop. If we listen to him, our life will be better. If I listen to his logic and reasoning, my life will be better? Yes it will be. Definitely. Because he will have fucking nothing to say us about. Because if we did everything he told us to do, he will just be pleased that he has all these Sims that he is perfectly controlling. “I want you to go and think through this and listen to me. What can be done to be improved?” I think: I want you to shut up. Shut up and shut the fuck up. What do you know about me? What do you know about her? She is stupid for marrying you. I am stupid and cowardly and useless for not having stood up to you all these twenty five years. For not having the courage to walk out that door. For not having the courage to stand up for myself. Now I cannot stand up for myself against the world. Look at me, I am a freaking ‘auditor’. Look at me, look at what I have become. Look at how my resistance has fallen. What do you think you are? You think you are God, the best person on earth. Will you shut up if I say you are? Your voice. I was happiest when I did not hear your voice everyday. I was in hall and thoroughly unhappy. But you were not there. Maybe I need your money and all your financial support. But what else have you given me? You do not know a single thing about me. You think you do. Because all you think you know is this useless girl who does not like anything or anyone. I am a weakling because I bitch about work. I am a spendthrift because I buy clothes. What else do you know about me? Nothing. You do not know anything because I will not let you know anything. You open my bank statements. But that does not mean anything. You think that my dislike for you is my own folly.