I want my husband to die. All he does is sit on his phone and bark about getting his shit together, but it's a lot of barking for someone who has to be pestered to the point of a screaming match to do chores he's been trying to do for over a week. I wish I was sociopathic enough to splash him in boiling sugar water and beat him to death, but I'm not, so instead I beg the universe to smite him, collect his life insurance, & use it to clean up this disgusting pigsty he's turned our condo into. I'd clean up my credit score and get my degree so I can live independently & never touch a man again beyond what I want to do in sex clubs. I am a bad person & worse is that I'm becoming okay with that. I let him turn me into a monster.
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