Let that amount sink in for a minute. One hundred seventy two dollars. ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY TWO FUCKING DOLLARS, and zero cents. I've held back for long enough, and I think it's about time you get to see the emotional side of me; the angry side that I keep locked away so carefully, as to not let anyone ever see it. But I have a secret...I AM angry. I'm extremely fucking frustrated and infuriated, and the events of today not only underscored that, but brought it to me neatly packaged in a value that everyone can understand. Money.
Today, I hauled my half stack up the stairs, stowing it neatly into my trunk as I've done many times before. Only this time, it was the last time I make that trip. You see, I'm loading it into my car not to head to practice, not to play a show, but to sell it for cash. In case you haven't been following my saga (which you haven't, because I don't tell), I need cash because my current situation dictates it. I have to bite my tongue and pretend none of this is affecting me in any detrimental way, just so I don't end up lashing out and screwing up my case for divorce. But seeing as though this blog will not be presented into evidence, allow me to indulge in a brief tirade directed at my ex, the one who still bears my last name while shaming it every second she wears it.
How dare you tell the world to pity you when your own pathetic life is perpetuated by your own inability to see the world as it is? Your actions have a ripple effect, much like your disgusting body, that affects everyone around you; you only care about yourself and if others perceive you as a victim, when in fact you are the victim of yourself. Grow the fuck up for once in your life and act like you are an adult. Nobody needs to take care of your spoiled ass like a fucking 5-year old. Our daughter is easier to care for than you are, and she still shits herself. You are a fucking waste of skin, several hundred yards of it I might add, and your main goal in life is not to care for a child, become a contributing member of society, or better your own life; it is to attempt to make mine miserable because I cheated on you. Take a poll of several thousand people and ask them if they'd do the same; based on physical appearance alone, I doubt many would disagree with me. Add in that you're a miserable fucking person and I bet whoever disagreed would certainly change their mind.
However, this wouldn't be a complete tirade if I didn't share my feelings on how this is affecting me directly. Due to your actions, I have not only had to relinquish my independence and give up things I really enjoyed, but you are now encroaching upon my current relationship with your mere existence on this planet. The mention of your name makes me cringe and I can't bear to see your fat retarded face in person. You have tried everything you can to fuck with me, and up to this point it hasn't caused me to lash out. You can't take my daughter from me, no matter how hard you try; she will be my little girl forever, and I know for a fact that she will be a part of my life. I've come to terms with your attempts with that, and I accept it, because I know it's impossible for you to take her from me. I said in the beginning that all I wanted was to have my daughter, and I will get that...however, I did not expect that my possessions would have such a profound effect on me as they leave me, as they did today.
So here we are, back at the amount of $172. Countless memories of fun times, of my fleeting music career, and my outlet of expressions being poured into five strings, coming out of the equipment that I am pulling out of my trunk and carting in to sell. You have slowly stripped away my pride, my dignity, and my means of self-expression over a period of 12 years, and this was no different. As I watch the guy behind the counter coldly write down the amount of money I would get from this transaction, I am reminded of everything. Everything you took from me then, and everything you are taking from me now. The man behind the counter plugs into MY equipment and plays the notes meant to come from MY fingers, and the bitterness grabs me and chokes me like it should. YOU caused this, you fucking cunt whore piece of fucking shit. You DESERVE every second of pain I caused you, every night of fucking lonliness you experience by my hand. I was smart enough to finally get out of a terrible marriage, and you want to pay me back for standing up for myself and my child. Fuck you, you vindictive, pathetic sack of shit. I hope you die in a fiery pit of cancer and AIDS and even then, you would not begin to suffer like I want you to. I WANT you to suffer, as I did for FUCKING YEARS. So keep trying to take away everything. It will affect me temporarily, but there are a few facts remaining that will continually sustain me through all of this.
I have moved on, not only to a better existence from you, but a better existence PERIOD. My daughter loves me and loves spending time with me, and there's nothing you can do about it. I am living my life, unlike you, and just that fact alone kills you as it is. Wake up, you fucking idiot. I'm happy and you can't take that. So what, I had to give up my independence; I gained so much more in the process. So what, I had to give up some time with my daughter; I will get it back in spades. And so what, I had to sell my gear for one hundred seventy two dollars. EVERY LAST CENT WILL BE USED TO DESTROY YOU IN COURT.
Fuck you.
