I'm so sick of people being two faced pricks. I'm sick of being pushed aside because something new is in your face, but you'll get back to me when it's gone. But not back to me fully, no, you mince and shuffle about while I sit here confused and wondering what the fuck is going on because you're too goddamn chickenshit to tell me straight. I have to find out, on bleeding FACEBOOK of all places, just what was going on, and when I let you have it for being a douchepickle, you hem and haw and disappear again.

I'm not about to be the good daughter and stay in bum-fucked-NOWHERE simply because YOU have decreed that it's immature of me to move across the country for schooling. If I was eighteen and fresh out of high school, such a move would be considered an adventure. Provided I was moving to a school of your choosing and being around people handpicked by you to ensure I had no life outside of what you deem acceptable. Since I am not mean enough to tell you that I am moving because I hate it here and I miss my family, I'm just going to let you think you're King of the Mountain while the rest of the royal party runs as fast as we can in the opposite direction.

I'm about ready to send a mail bomb to my idiot exhusband. I saw an email from him sitting in my inbox a few days ago, and I stupidly opened it. I expected it to be something about taxes, bank accounts that *I* had to close (via fucking telephone and smoke signals) because he was too bleeding lazy to go to the bank office in the town he lives in. (For the record, there is no bank office here for me! None! Whatsoever!) Nope, it was a long, rambling, disjointed account of how happy he is since I left him and he's found a new love. She's wonderful, and perfect, and so much better than me. She understands him in ways I never could. She loves him, whereas I was merely pretending for the almost ten years I was married to him. She is funny where I never was. She is beautiful and smart and his mother adores her.

She's the same girl he dated in high school fourteen years ago, she still lives at home with her mother, and her best (and only) friends are Ben and Jerry.

If you have to waste that many pixels telling me how great someone is... I'm going to know you're lying. I was married to that skin sack (skin sacks are worse than blood bags- blood bags are useful, skin sacks are not) for almost a decade, he lies worse than a cheap toupee. I read his email through once. And read it again. Then I laughed so hard that I spewed a hot beverage out my nose and had to spend the rest of the day carefully cleaning up my computer.