I can see the waves lapping and I'm trying so hard to take everything in that it makes me feel nauseous. My skin in brown, clear, salty and I am in hot sun that blankets my body from head to foot. How is it then, that I am so deeply unhappy? I have no direction and I fear returning to everyday life because it is not the life I want. I cannot keep going round in these cycles of hot tempers, silent moods, unpredictability, emotional roller coasters. I find myself crying in the toilet for an uncountable time this year. And what a year it's been. There was just enough good days for us to continue believing that we are okay - that we are thriving. I have managed to survive this year but I'm unsure how much longer I can keep surviving. All the things I enjoy doing are tainted by his need for control, his hot temper, his impossibly high standards (disrespectful comments about things I've paid for, or that I enjoy, mocking them and pointing out all their flaws as if to tear down any shreds of happiness left). 

I remembered clearly this morning when thinking of how he's ruined this trip for me, the time in the cinema when I felt anxious to the pit of my stomach that he would be annoyed at the whispering and rustling. I am on edge for his temper, something I told myself I would never stand by and allow to happen. 

I have no clue on how to bring this whole thing to an end; there will be cruel words flung and no doubt I will financially come out of it worse off, but is that perhaps the price to pay? I keep asking myself do I really want to marry this person? And right now the answer is no. I have so many doubts, which alone push me to say no. All these worries and stresses and silent treatments that last for days. I cringed as we passed through Playa de Bossa as I knew it would be somewhere I'd love with my friends - to laugh, drink, relax, make the best of any bad situation. He cannot, in any sense of the word, be laid back. Everything must be perfect and  if not, there is a hot flush of anger, rude comments said underbreath and I am left, silent and embarrassed for actually having enjoyed myself. I am made to feel belittled. 

In reality, I know I should confess and say everything but I will lose my home, my routine, security, companionship (the good days are always so good that they seem to blind me from the bad). I will be left like a bewildered child in the open. I haven't coped by myself for four years now. Then there will be the agro of sorting out the house in which a bitter and unfair feud will ensue. I am in too deep to come out unscathed now. 

I flirt with the dream of a future for us but sometimes reality strikes and I realise I am playing with the idea of happiness. Maldives or boats won't make me happy as happiness is only real when shared. Properly shared, in good company, relaxed with no pressure. God forbid I end up this miserable on them as I am now in Ibiza. As much as I want to go back to the Maldives, I think I will have to accept that it will either be with a friend or family member. 

I see other peoples happiness and I am jealous, even slightly resentful. I know I have had it, truly, but it's run out through my fingers like sand. I keep thinking about the what ifs and buts, but in reality I know it will be a hard and messy business going through a break up. Life after won't be glamorous and I will no doubt be filled with disappointment, regret and guilt. Whatever happens I cannot be a door mat, Lorraine is right in saying that I must let my thoughts and feelings be heard because they matter too. 

Maybe it will take a long time to get back on my feet, and god knows how I will feel bout the whole thing in a few ears time - maybe I will be overcome with peace, or feel pangs of a sad noatalgia at the life I had. Whatever happens I must remember now that things are and have been hard; at times unbearable. I have watched my face contourt in the bathroom mirror, held soggy tissues overnight, screamed, shaken, sighed into myself with frustration, stood by silently when his temper is raging, sipped my drink and looked the other way when I have enjoyed something which he has tried to tear down. Avoided rooms of our house while sniffling upstairs for hours on end, been left feeling let down and dejected when doesn't want to do any of the things I enjoy. Watched him in annoyance and resentment about spending money, so offer to pay myself, despite him being in the knowledge of my low income and strained bank balance. 

Undenaybly there are so many beautiful things I love about him - all my reasons to keep returning but how long can this really go on for? This unhappiness is so apparent in days like today. Days which have happened far too many times to count since the beginning of the year. I came close before to ending it all - when I went round to Lorraine's, stood in the kitchen and said that my best case scenario now was that I had a place of my own locally. That we could be apart for a while. I really meant it too, I was fed up beyond belief. And I resigned myself to the thought of seperation again today too. Almost thought, we'll sort it out once and for all when you're home, don't worry about this argument (if you can even call it that since he insisted its not to do with me, he just matter of factly said I'm not angry, I'm disappointed. I asked what he meant by that and he very calmly said 'this is the worst value for money I've ever known in my whole life; the whole trip'. I questioned whether he'd enjoyed not spending time with me? I said, I've enjoyed having a week off work and being together. He just sort of shrugged in agreement before going on to rub salt in the Spanish wound even more. Told a couple of people that last night was dreadful, that it was trashy and a joke, each harsh word,I was remembering sitting at my desk at work, printing off the tickets and - with giddy excitement - knowing not to check the giant hole in my bank account. I got insurance because I thought something might happen where he'd find an excuse not to want to go and make me think I'd given permission for that so couldn't be angry. I know all the games by not. Please, Lord don't get me started on how often he was on his phone the whole holiday. I sat awkwardly at tables watching him and waiting for him to be done. Done checking sky sports, probably. But not always. Last night when I stirred he let out a panicked "you okay darling?" whilst I heard the familiar click of the home button that I'm all too used to hearing upon turning around. I need to get out that house. 

At times I have no idea what goes through his head, like right now. Does he feel guilty for dragging me out of Ushauai last night before Avicii even came on? Does he feel like his actions were brash and uncalled for? Does he feel sorry for me and all he's put me through? Does he wish he could apologise for being silent and angry all day, for no apparent good reason (except the holiday being a 'waste of money'). Does he envy his friends who came here and raved about it? I have spent a few times thinking about Brad and Kate whilst I've been out here. Thinking that they must make a good situation out of most things and they've willing to splash the cash - they aren't bridled with anger and resentment for money spent on food, drinks, clubs etc. They probably even bought a bottle of the champagne on offer, as well as spending expensive afternoons down at Amante beach club. I am happy to pay for pretty much anything that makes me happy. As I sit here, Pete with his back to me after going on various walks around the resort (at least him facing away from me is shielding me from his clear boredom - he did, after all, get angry that he couldn't get an earlier flight - and his fidgeting and heavy sighing). Is he actively trying to ruin the remainder of this holiday for me by making it very well known that he is angry about spending a lot of money? Does he think I will apologise for encouraging us to go away? Is he thinking about how ridiculous he's being (probably not, he had all night and a good sleep to ponder over dragging us out of Ushuaia and into a cab, angrily scathing under his breath about bad driving, a funny noise in the car, a bike which he hoped would have been knocked down by a bus... But still woke up with the enough anger and steam to say what he said). Is he really going to sign himself off with stress like he threatened for a few weeks? Does he think that I will feel guilty about this - as though I personally have caused the stress of experiencing a disappointing holiday? Does he think we will continue on happily ever after once we return home? Does he really think that we are happy? 

With each tear that wells up in my eyes I have the same laughable though of how ridiculous and poetic it is to be crying in Ibiza. Paradise. And those thoughts mirror ones I had in the Maldives, where j cried numerous times too. 

I've just seen Pete throw the key card at the receptionist and I'm filled with embarrassment that it makes me dizzy. 


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