I have nothing to say tonight except that I hate, hate it when we have to fight. No matter who wins, he never remembers them or the vital information that comes afterwards. Or that’s been the last couple of times. I’ve done all I could and should do as a wife and a lover, but he wants more. I’m starting to think that maybe Liz can give him that more and I should step aside. No one has come right out and said it, but it’s been implied plenty of times.

Or maybe when they offer me a free trip to the nut house tomorrow, I should go. Not look back. I’ve done it voluntarily so many other times, why not now? Why not get a simple institutionalisation for “free” once? At least they can write on my record that I didn’t suggest it and it wasn’t voluntary, so I’m crazy enough to think I am still sane. Perhaps that will for some other type of therapy, or maybe even something else that is so desperately needed, onto me. New medicines. Surgery, if they’d do a lobotomy, I’d still go. New therapists. New procedures. Maybe in a month or three, it would be recognised that what will really cure me would be a new life. A new family. A new chance just to get the hell on with things and never look back.

It’s a shame, too. I was really looking forward to work on Friday. It was pay day. I’m quite confident that Liz will spend my hard earned money wisely. Probably on hard alcohol and some female condoms. Or maybe even a remodel of the bedroom, you know, to get my touch out of there.

Either way, I’m doomed.