There is a tree outside of the window that affords the best view in mark and my santa monica apartment (the bedroom). Many that come and tour our fabulous sixties pad (with one and a half baths and wet bar and sunken living room and balcony) are beckoned to gaze out of said window. There is a huge pine tall tree that is in the courtyard of the building next to us. The peeps without fail will claim that it is one of those new cell phone towers put up to resemble trees. I point out the dead fronds on the roof, and thus win point. It is a pretty and fake looking tree.
Is it clear to you - crystal clear - that I am getting a divorce?
Are you up to speed on what a fucking failure this is for me? (If not, try reading some archived kristen's words and weep like I did - but of course it really wouldn't mean anything to you as I'm just a character in this novella).
I have yet to have said this point blank.
As with most things that hurt me, I adore proclaiming them in large capital letters. I often feel that this exposure will lessen their poison.
I am often wrong. I am a hypocrite. I will always remember 'rashonan'.
Have any of you ever been divorced? Is it always this painful?
I have been divorced twice before, but those relationships were neither as long nor as sanctified and bona-fide.
They hurt like nasty diseases, but this one hurts the most as I've mistakenly built my entire life on being 'wife of'. I mistakenly thought that I had both waited long enough to enter into hallowed marriage and that I had chosen well.
I did both of these things correctly.
The problem, so cliche-edly, is me.
I have turned into a different entity than 29-year-old Kristen. I did not foresee this. I am rather surprised - to put it as the english might.
I have rubbed this marriage I've entered (that I am now breaking) in most people's face. I have done this sometimes politely and sometimes internally, but I have done it.
I thought I was immune from all that petty liar shit that the other couples do. I thought that my honesty and love was eternal and well-fitting.
Wrong I was. Wrong. wrong. wrong. wrong.
If you knew me as a human, as my intimates know me, one of the 'kristen jokes' is that I greatly enjoy being right. I am a bit of a sanctimonious bitch.
This wrongness both puzzles me and kills me.
How can I still love mark and be scared shitless to be without him and yet unflinchingly proceed forth into separation? This confuses me.
I am lost. It is like a death. I often feel dead. Push a pin in me, and I likely wouldn't flinch. My head is in the stars. My body is virginal.
The wound is much deeper.
Red and blue.
Roses are red. Violets are blue. I thought I loved you, but now I'm taboo.
It is true that your friends split sides. The hidden thing is that they don't tell you. I know exactly who is on mark's team and who is on kristen's team and who doesn't give a fuck.
There are many people who don't even know that the game is over.
It will kill my parents when I tell them. It will kill me.
They were hoping that Mark and I would be their friends for life... that we would vacation together and be buddies. This has puzzled mark and I as we only see them at christmas and one vacation, but they are lonely and we are/were fun.
The plan? the course of action?
I have gotten a job. I have given may 15th as my move away date. I pray every day that mark will find a soul mate (please god, give this deserving honourable good man a woman who will love him in the ways that I have failed at. please please please god.). I have prayed that mark will be prosperous (please god, please let mark be fulfilled in a vocation that rewards this good, honourable, loving, fabulous man. please god.)
I am scared. I don't know what five minutes from now will bring. I don't know who I am. I don't know who my friends are. I don't know