This a very different story and original, bet you wont read one like this. Will be updated once a week. I don't pretend to be an amazing writer so don't think otherwise.

Based on true life.

Characters belong to SM, Story belongs to me.

Dear piece of cheap ass paper and the nosey fucker reading this,

I have been married three years today, amazing that most people didn't give us three months let alone years. Fuck, I didn't give us 3 years! Most likely reason for a long happy marriage, the price of a long happy divorce .I love Edward, I know I do but I really don't like him. I think these few years should have gone so many different ways, that we as people should have gone in different directions. We got married because we could not because there was an undying love there that came after. The day we got married we wasn't even on speaking terms, his hand was broken from punching a wall after yet another blazing argument.

I do believe in soul mates, but I also believe it's possible of bad timing. Edward is a very immature soul where's I am not, haven't been for 6 years but I suppose a teenage pregnancy does that to a girl but so does having unsupportive parents that would rob your own grave to feed their greed and selfishness. I think the real icing on cake for maturity comes when you lose a child, when you hold your own flesh and blood in your arms and feel the last beat of his heart. That's when you really hope that the person meant to be your equal, the support system you need, the "husband" in your life really pulls his finger out and overnight becomes the man you dreamt of marrying not the person you find standing next to you. That's was a huge fucking disappointment.

I suppose my life isn't all that bad. I have the two beautiful children people keep reminding me I'm lucky to have despite of everything. "At least" is a fond saying I hear all the time. I just smile and think 'fuck you', I'm not religious in the slightest even more so since Hunter's death so when people tell me it's god's work and it's all part of this master plan. I think to myself pity God didn't ask for your child. Then tell me it's all part of this big plan which can go fuck itself. Oh and by the way having his identical brother grow up to be the little bastard he is now doesn't help when people say he needs to be naughty for two. My son is the devil himself and I bet Hunter knew this, hence his quick exit from this earthly plain, he knew something we didn't. Well that's my theory anyway.

Blissfully happy to me is at 6pm bedtime for the kids, usually Edwards working late and it's just me. I am left to my own thoughts which don't nag at me, don't request things of me and certainly don't belittle me. Being alone used to scare me, now I crave that solace. With Maddie a 6 year old copy of myself and Carson, my 1 year old copy of his father my house is a battle field in which poor Flopsy is lucky to survive in. Flopsy is the only creature in this world who I feel gets me, we have an understanding I give him an occasional carrot he's my company when I pretend to be doing dishes but am having a sly chocolate bar which I do believe Carson has an unhuman ability to sniff out. That kid can eat, I mean he actually convulses in frustration if you don't feed him fast enough.

24 and feeling like this, when you dream of being a grown up when you're an innocent child never prepares you for cold harsh and completely shit reality. I don't have a career, I don't own my house, our car isn't ours (yet) and we live pay check to pay check. Instead I'm full time housewife with nothing but a wild imagination, sarcastic attitude and a disappointing marriage.

People are always so sickly sweet to me even when I'm being a right unpleasant bitch, they smile with their pitiful eyes and just accept the cynical person before them is the result of the hardships of the last few years. Fucking idiots. I've always been a dick, I mean I have always just had no tolerance for complete morons.

I may be borderline depressed, bipolar or even something medically excellent that requires medication (please be this one) and a shrink but I pull whatever I am off with style or at least I think so. So to complete this process of getting "better" I must write my every though, internal debate, external bitch and everything I fucking hate in this world on a piece of paper keep like a prepubescent girl in a diary in hopes that I find this place of happiness where unicorns run wild and shit out daisy's and there's only tears of happiness not tears of "I'm going to rip your fucking head off" rage. This is absolutely pointless, I am stable and I keep my desire of hating the world tucked nice and safely away, like every other "normal" person does. Don't they?

What do you think? First impressions really do help the writer :D Thank you