Everything now is blamed on my mental illnesses. I have no legit feelings, I'm always mad apparently. Why do people think our feelings aren't real? Why can't I do anything right? I bet if we were to ask our loved ones what they love about us, they wouldn't be able to list anything, except "I just love you". Okay, so you love us, but nothing we say or do is legitimate, and we are generally just awful people. That's fine, but why even try to build a life with us, if that's how you feel. 
I've lost joy in almost everything, and while explaining this to my husband, he says I'm self sabatoging by saying I can't find joy in anything. No regards to how I feel, just always makes sure he points out my flaws, and how often I'm wrong. Have I heard anything about how much laundry I've managed to get through? Nope. Heard anything about how I finally cleaned our room. Nope. Cleaning the kitchen when I made none of the mess? Nope. Why? Because it's expected of me. I'm just supposed to do everything, and not complain. I'm not supposed to have any ill feelings towards anything ever. What is the point of living like this? I have no identity, which makes me barely even human, because everybody has a purpose, but not me. I never have, and probably never will. I don't know where I belong, and I kinda don't wanna belong anywhere. I hate this life, and I wish we had the choice of whether to keep living it or not. I'd never be forgiven if I unalived myself. People would see me as a coward.