This is a letter that you will never read, and yet I am still writing it. I wish I could tell you so many things, things I know would make you turn around and run. Yes, even after 10 years you do not know the real me, and I want so badly for you too. I love you with my whole heart, but I do not love myself. Since the day we met I have been conflicted but never the guts to tell you to find better, that you deserve better. My inner fights are too much to handle for even me, so I bury them. I smile, just to hide my tears, I talk just to keep from crying. I don’t wanna go places, I don’t wanna see people. I dread the nights you come home from work because I have to pretend that everything is ok. Yet, it’s not, it’s so not. I know all our troubles stem from our financial stand point, but we don’t talk, so how would you know. We are so far in debt that I don’t think we will ever own the house we so desperately dream of. But we don’t talk. I feel helpless, and lost as a wife and a mother. But we don’t talk. I feel exhausted and drained on a daily basis. But we don’t talk. I’m scared to death of my upcoming surgery. But we don’t talk. Our bank account is overdrawn by $800. But we don’t talk. I hate sitting at home doing nothing because we can’t afford daycare for me to work. But we don’t talk. I love you more than you will ever know, but we don’t talk.