To those who don't know me, this won't make a lick of sense...

I just need to vent. I kinda did to two people, but I need to get it out further.

So, I'm divorced. A statistic. Sad, I know. I was one of those young 22 year olds with stars in her eyes thinking that if you've made it through three years of hell with someone--dealing with a b*tchy ex-wife of theirs, helping to raise their two kids, and everything that just comes with being in a long relationship that maybe, MAYBE things could work.

Well, they didn't. I was married for a grand total of three years, two months and eighteen days. I'm not obessive about the days and total time, our divorce was final on Dec 18th and we were married on Oct 1st. It's easy to be calculated. Well, we were really not married that long, we split up on St. Patrick's Day of 2007, so we really only made it two years, five months and sixteen days. Yet something else easy to calculate. (and that's one St. Patrick's Day I actually stayed sober. Weird, huh?)

So, we were married. I got cheated on. Twice that I know of. One hurt because we actually separated five months after our wedding and he lied and told me that nothing happen and I took him back only to be lied to for the remaining part of our marriage until he came clean and admitted that he had cheated on me AFTER we separated. Okay, besides the point. I guess the end factor to us was this: 1) He had a job and never went to it to help out with monthly expenses and so forth. I paid everything and I mean EVERYTHING. Clothes, food, gas, cigs, crap paper, everything. It was getting tiring. 2) He couldn't seem to keep it in his pants. That's the kicker, folks. And who I was kicked aside for made it even worse--my brother's ex-girlfriend whom he had formed a friendship with that I blindly trusted as just that--friends--when it wasn't. Did I mention that he was 27 at the time? No? Well I just did. Did I mention that she was 18 at the time and a senior in HIGH SCHOOL at the time? No? Well, I just did that, too.

So, we split up, we go about our ways. Things get bitter, we wait them out, he draws out the divorce that HE wanted to begin with to fight me over crap that was petty considering we had NOTHING because we lived in his parent's basement. That's the kicker. Not once in our almost six years did he even want to get out of his parent's house or help me when I tried.

Which leads me to this rant and the point of this 'journal' (which I'm taking to be a like a blog. Who knows if that's the case, but that's what I'm using it for anyhow.) and why I'm giving you history (if you're even still reading. I sound kinda psycho and I wouldn't blame you if you were sitting there with a baseball bat beside you cowering in fear of me) so you can understand my next few lines.

He's getting out of mommy and daddy's house and is getting a place with the trollop. Whom he's not married to. Yep, that's right. SHE'S good enough, however I wasn't and I was his f'n WIFE. Yeah, it's sticking in my craw and it's really pissing me off, but overshadowing the rage is the hurt.

Because I AM hurt. There's no two ways around it. Evidenly I wasn't good enough to start with five months after we got married but I was good enough to come back to for awhile, to let me support him until the next great thing came around his (and pardon me, I'm going to gag as I write this: ) 'soul mate' and I was kicked aside.

So, what the hell ever. I hope he makes it on one hand, but on the other I want the dream of his own place to go to a fiery death, not the house or people or things burning, just the ability of dreaming of it. Which it won't because I was informed that he was 'busy at the new house' all day. Gag me again.

So, yeah...this friendship of ours that we claim to have? Why do I even bother? Hmm...I ask myself that every now and then and then come to one damned conclusion. I still love his trifling ass and I shouldn't. I think that may be it.

Okay, rant is over now. Please but down your bats or weapons of choice as I won't come after you, I promise.

T