Happy birthday, John.

Today I am sad. It's John's birthday, and I don't know the protocol for celebrating my soon-to-be-ex spouse's birthday. I imagine he's sadder, even though his expectations must be pretty low. He'll get a card and probably a cupcake from Grace, who perked up immediately when she heard "Blah blah blah BIRTHDAY blah blah" and started talking excitedly about cake and candles. I made a card with a photo of John and Grace, and looking at all those fucking pictures in iPhoto made me cry and think what a wretched, heartless bitch I am, that I could be ruining not one, not two, but three lives just because I have this crazy notion that happiness feels a lot different than what all of us have been feeling for a while now. But I can't ignore it, even when the reality of all that's changed makes me curl up in bed and cry. Which is what I'm going to do right now.