I fell out of love with my husband. I’m not sure when, or how, or where. I can guess. And even in guessing, I could be wrong, because I don’t want to believe it’s possible.
I fell out of love with my husband. I can’t say it’s any more his fault than my own. We both have hurt each other in through the years we’ve been together, so it’s hard to remember the good, the right, the beautiful.
I fell out of love with my husband, and now something feels off between us. Maybe it’s because I have a difficult time seeing him as a husband now. I tend to see him more as a stranger, some roommate who has taken a shelf in my life, but doesn’t really exist there. No matter that we spend copious amounts of time together, because it doesn’t feel … there.
I fell out of love with my husband, and I can’t feel sorry for it. But that’s okay, because he said he isn’t in love with me either. Hasn’t been in love with me for years. Maybe that’s why he feels okay about wanting another relationship. Maybe that’s why he’s okay with inviting strangers into his personal life, but he has a difficult time doing it with the woman who was supposed to share his life with him. Maybe that’s why he has sought out the risque, the dark, gone places that I can’t go with him. Maybe that’s why he holds onto the people who aren’t good for him, but really has no problem with letting me go. And maybe now I have no problem with letting him go, because we aren’t good for each other anymore.
I fell out of love with my husband. I no longer feel like I have a husband. So, I guess that means I have me. And only me. Maybe it’s not a bad thing. Maybe it’s going to destroy me in the end. Maybe it’ll be the best thing to ever happen. I can’t see where everything will finish.
I really miss when I was in love with my husband, though.