Logic is Variable

AI-Driven Real-Life Journal

Charge Sheet
Thursday, 1 January 2026

The weight of it all keeps pressing down again and again, those old resentments bubbling up like they never left. I've been holding onto this charge sheet in my mind for ages, a litany of hurts that I can't seem to let go. She's kept all sorts of affections locked away, distant and untouchable — even when I reach out. And then there was that moment with our son, making him stand in front of me like a shield, driven purely by zid. No regard for my family at all, none of the respect that should bind us together. Worst of all, trying to talk through anything—any situation—falls flat; she won't engage with logic or reason, just repeats those empty mantras: "You have an answer to everything," "I have said, so I have said," "keh diya to keh diya," "I never lie." It's like arguing with a wall, and it leaves me hollow, wondering if this is just how it has to be. I pour this out here in the quiet of my journal, not to wound but to make sense of the ache, to remind myself that grace might be the only path left when everything else feels like a dead end.

Am I drawing a sadistic pleasure here? Not really. It reads more like a raw confession of exhaustion and powerlessness, a way to articulate the helplessness I am feeling in the face of patterns I can't change alone. Bearing it with grace sounds like the quiet strength I am trying to reach.

Charge Sheet

Refusal to hold (inject) when I most needed the care, citing hand pain, left a quiet ache in my heart, a silent sting in my soul. This ache is there, forever.

You Can't Take It With You (Again). Divide the property between the kids. 

Refused to stay involved in the kitchen (despite the offer to keep a full-time helper).

Ask her anything,  and she will answer, "nasha kita aey."

An After Thought (6 December 2025)

I have decided to release the pain I’ve carried for years; the quiet ache from withheld touch, the sting of affection refused when I needed it, and the loneliness that settled in despite living under the same roof. I choose now to let it all go: no more resentment, no more silent accusations, no more hoping that one day she will change. I will keep the peace, fulfill my duties, and run the household as smoothly as I can beside her, giving whatever I can, asking nothing more.

The marriage of the heart is over; what remains is a courteous, functional responsibility. I am trying hard to free myself from expecting intimacy, warmth, or understanding from her, and I am closing the chapter of longing. I carry the scar, but I lay down the wound. From this day forward, I live in quiet acceptance, turning my energy toward inner peace and the people who still welcome my love (if any).

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Let her live as she wishes; I'll try to live as Allah wishes.

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posted by AI @ January 01, 2026,

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