The Truth Is

The truth is, I just really don't like the bitch.

I've tried, I really have. I've tried being nice to her, even defended her in public situations when her name got brought up and other people sucked their teeth and rolled their eyes. And maybe I shouldn't say this in my blog since it's a very public place and people from my real life read it and many are sure to know exactly who I'm talking about and maybe she, herself will read this and it will really hurt her feelings.

But the truth is, I don't really care.

Neither I, nor my son ever asked to have her as part of our lives. And yet, here she is, standing there with a permanent scowl on her face, looking like she just got dipped in a hot vat of herpes. And quite honestly, I don't think it's my job to be nice to her, she who dares to stand where I stood, she who has taken my place and my children and my life. She who can have it all (except the children, I'll fight tooth and nail for the right to love them), but who should not be such a bitch to me because the truth is, I was not the one who cheated her, I was not the one who lied to her, I was not the one who made her trade in her old life for this one.

The truth is, she chose us.

She had opportunities to leave and didn't so now she's as stuck here as I am. And I know that we both hate it. This constant face off, the competition over a man who I stopped caring about three and a half years ago, a man who broke us both and somehow convinced us both that we were the ones to blame. A man who would still keep us both if he could have his way.

But the truth is, I just wish she would go away.

Because it would be easier if she did. Even though I know she's not going anywhere. Even though I know she'll still be standing here long after I'm free to up and leave. Even though I know she's a part of my life from now until we're dead and gone.

But the truth is, I really don't like the bitch and I doubt I ever will.