I lied about being happy

I don't know why I'm writing this. Maybe because I'm tired of pretending. Everyone thinks I'm doing great. Got the good job, the nice apartment, the husband who brings me flowers. Social media is all smiles and vacations. But it's a lie. Or, not a complete lie, but a really, really big exaggeration.

I hate my job. It's soul-crushing. All spreadsheets and pointless meetings. I feel like a robot, not a person. I used to dream about being a writer, but that seems like a lifetime ago. Now I just shuffle papers and try not to cry at my desk.

My apartment is…okay. It’s clean, I guess. But it feels empty. Like a show home nobody actually lives in. I picked all the furniture because it was 'stylish' and 'modern', not because I actually liked it. Now I'm stuck with a grey couch that gives me backaches.

And Mark… he’s a good man. He really is. He brings me flowers every Friday, remembers my mother's birthday, and always puts the toilet seat down. He’s everything a woman 'should' want. But I don't feel anything. Not really. We go through the motions. Dinner, a movie, polite conversation. Sometimes we have sex, but it feels… distant. Like we’re acting out a scene. I don't think he notices. Or maybe he does, but he doesn't say anything. That might be worse.

I feel so guilty. He deserves someone who loves him. Someone who appreciates his kindness and his stupid jokes. I just… can’t. I can't fake it anymore. I try, I really do. But inside, I'm just hollow.

I told my best friend, Sarah, that I was thinking about leaving him. She looked shocked. Said I was crazy, that I was throwing my life away. She said I was being selfish. Maybe I am. But I can't live like this anymore. I can’t keep pretending to be happy when I'm dying inside. So I lied to her too. I told her I was just having a bad day and that everything was fine. That Mark and I were great. She seemed relieved.

So now I'm here, writing this to strangers. Because I can't tell anyone I know. They wouldn't understand. They’d tell me to be grateful for what I have. That I’m lucky. And maybe I am. But I’m also miserable. And I don't know what to do about it. I just needed to tell someone. Anyone. Even if it's just a bunch of anonymous people on the internet.