I just need to vent

Oh where to start? I don't write much on here anymore, I think the blogging craze has died down. But when I need to vent, this is a good place for it.

There are times when I think I should've stayed in the U.S. Not because of the people in the UK, or antying like that, but because of you. We were fine until I went to Iraq. Then you left. Then we had a baby. Then you pretty well walked away from me emotionally. sexually, you turned into a prude. I told you repeatedly what I needed, and you blew me off. SO I got what I needed, and you got upset. You're running around behind my back trying to ruin whomever I talk to, and I can't imagine why. You think something was stolen from you, and yet you can't tell ME about it. No, you'd prefer to tell anyone else but me about it, though I am the one it concerns. What's that saying? You haven't got the balls to talk to me first about anything, you just run off and do your own thing, like you are all that matters. So what, I got pictures? WHat does it matter? You don't send me pictures. Why drag work into things? I sent you pictures. When will you realize that I am trying to get you to do the same things?

Now when I try to tell you how I feel, you give me this blank look, and you don't say anything back to me except Awww. Don't you know how hard it is for me to tell you how I feel? I wasn't raised to express feelings like that, and only until you came along could I do it and feel comfortable. And now you blow me off. How's that supposed to make me feel? Now I just feel like I'm being left behind, trailed along because I have the kids, like an afterthought.

Who else are you going to attack for sending me pictures? I mean why limit it to one, right? It smacks of Bobby, to be honest. I am unimpressed. Just run off everyone and I'm only yours, right? You're running me off from you, in case you haven't noticed. You don't take hints well, and tell things to you bluntly seems to upset you further, so what am I supposed to do? I get blamed for everything you don't get to do, and I'm sick of it. You don't want me going out to a club, then by damn you don't need to go do it. Fair's fair, right? You spend most of your time keeping up with the guys from work anyways, the games, all that. It doesn't make a damned bit of difference.