Character: Wife

May 23.
As two people who once loved each other to madness, may become so strange? My husband stopped to talk to me. He sits in his Studio, diligently practicing one bad picture after another. He even goes to sleep with me. I think I disgust him.
The look he gave me the other day...
Pathetic, painful look...
A mixture of shame, guilt and disgust. I realized that in the eyes of my husband I became a monster...
This... should Not feel any woman.
I have to be a good wife, so I have no choice but to fulfill his fantasy.
If he thinks I'm a monster, well, so be it.

Can't see you in this state! You're sick! You're sweating and shaking all night. And now look where it brought you:
- Locked up in the Studio, as always. Stop this nonsense about the "tortured artist"!

I finally understood everything.
Thanks to you.
You showed me that there is no other way.
And even now your sad smile only confirms the obvious.
We will never talk.

God, what a fool.
I might even think that you can compete with someone like you.
With your flawless beauty.
Endless.
Immortal.

You know... Even despite the fact that you're my enemy, the source of my troubles,
You're the only person I can talk to...
The only one who listens.
I don't know whether it sounds ridiculous or pathetic...
Most likely - both.

November.
I guess I should be happy. Why is it wrong? I have a beautiful daughter. I think it is. I know what it is. Why I can't look at it without a shudder? I used to have a loving husband, wonderful, gentle. And now I see only a stranger that does not care about anything but his paintings. You may think them makes sense... It's so stupid. Before me at least the music helped. Now - no.

It doesn't change anything. It never was. And never will be.

Why do you continue to write? Why must you continue to humiliate my family?
Is all the voices. Can't stop them, they come to me. When you eat, when you sleep, when you walk down the hall... And sweet dreams young lady, and the irrepressible vanity of the court, the dastardly plans of the killers, pleading their unfortunate victims... Only when I put their voices, their words on parchment, they cast loose, freed, and only then my brain calms down, finding peace. I would go mad if I had not written down these voices.
Is not an obsession is it?
- Maybe you're right.

You can't live your life with a man without knowing it.

- Look how vyvodit, rogue!
- FIE, Papa! Well, what you have bad SKUs! Well it's Vanya from the liberties, I got a sore throat!
- Oh! Salesale, old man. Napsal smoke, with krovopodteki!

- Well, did it, Yes? It? Look me in the eye! I can see what happened!
- It was nothing, why would I have told you.
- Yeah... Well, kissed you, right? Alohaaaa!
- Yes, no kissing.
- Yeah... I realized that you molested her, and she turned you down!
- I told you she was pestering me, but I refused...
- Th... the truth was not? Refused? Zhanna Friske?
Yes.
- Well, you muaaaa...