Thank God I don't believe in suicide. I wonder what in hell I was thinking when I walked down the aisle. If I knew then what I know now, I would have run back downstairs and out the hotel. Run for my life. I think I just had this romantic ideal about a husband loving his wife more than anything else and wanting to make her think the world of him. It never occured to me that my husband wouldn't care if he disapointed me or made me look bad in front of friends and family. Then for the longest itme, I just assumed that I must deserve such a bad marriage. I thought my husband was the best that I could get. I tried to make the best of it and keep things together so I wouldn't be alone and so I wouldn't worry my aging and sick parents about how I was going to make it on my own. Then I just sort of got lazy for a few years. Threw myself into work and volunteeting so I wouldn't have to be home. Now I'm sick and depressed and the idea of dying is so appealing that if I wasn't Catholic I would kill myself just to avoid having to lay down next to him at night anymore.