I want him to be able to hear the slight tone of irritation in my voice. I want him to notice so I wouldn’t have to say anything—to admit that it bothers me. It's a safe way out. I really should eat him alive.

What bothers me is not knowing. I don’t care if he sees her; I don't care if they talk. I am not jealous, but he rubs it in my face. I put up with it... why?

Later days, more courage.