EDITOR’S NOTE:
I wrote this in 2022, when I was getting divorced.
I filed it away.
I didn’t want to be bitter.
Three years later, I don’t see bitterness.
You tell me.
I thought marriage would be a passport to a bigger life.
Instead, I got five years in solitary confinement.
I was her everything—
Her chauffeur.
Her scapegoat.
Her emotional punching bag.
