Poetic Venting

Frustrated beyond belief at being treated like a prisoner in my own house, I cry out to anyone willing to listen. "I can’t take this anymore, I have to get out of here before they drive me completely crazy." Crazy, that a few months ago I was actually looking forward to coming home. Close to the ones I love and to the one that loves me the most. But clearly my daydreams of pleasant memories made and quality time spent were nothing more than me hoping for the best. And yet, Tears of frustration roll down my face and I reiterate "I gotta get out of this place." Every day a different rule, a different standard to live by. Which wouldn’t be so bad if there was any consistency. Or is it me? Am I being unreasonable to think that a twenty four year old attorney should garner some respect. Not to deflect the problem but I can promise you that it is not me. How could it be? When all I do is sit at home, go to church, or go visit my family. Everytime I even say the word "boy" or "friend", its like the world is coming to an end. Yes, I get it, you don’t like him. You don’t like us. You don’t like "we". But I’m the only "she" that has to build a life with this man. Go ahead, fight it all you can. But all you’re doing is making me resentful, making me resent you. Stop trying to destroy my mind frame. I have a good name. And I’ve kept it that way. I’ve kept most scandals at bay. I compose myself as a lady should. And yet you treat me like I can do no good.