Honduras
31 Julio 2003
My feelings paralyze me.
I want to work, but I’ll feel bad.
If I eat, I’ll feel bad, too, because I didn’t go out to buy the groceries.
If I clean, it’s because I want to rid myself of guilt.
If I look him in the face, I’ll cry.
All because I am not the woman for him.
I don’t cook for him when he’s hungry. That makes me thoughtless and selfish.
He wants a housewife but that’s not what I am.
So it makes me wonder why he is with me…or even why does he love me?
If I am a writer and I get wrapped up in my work, that should be a good thing. He should love me for my dedication. But instead he is jealous because I am not paying attention to him and his needs.
“Woman, I’m hungry. Get your head out of your ass and take some initiative in that kitchen. And don’t give me no peanut butter and jelly - I’m a man, dammit. Don’t insult me with your Mickey Mouse diet. I need some meat and potatoes. I need enegy to watch TV and to take my two hour naps. Afterwards, we’re gonna work on my web site until your eyes burn.”
I never imagined coming down here I would be subjected to expectations and demands. I thought we came hee to be in love, work on our art and watch sunsets together.
- Posted in Honduras on July 31st, 2003
