He signed the paper like it was a business transaction. I was tearing and he couldn't care less. 

It's done. I'm divorced.

I feel like it's 50% my fault for not seeing that he didn't love me in the first place, that all he wanted was a roommate.
I feel like the other 50% is his fault for not ever speaking to me about my issues, and refusing to see the issues, and refusing to try to work on the issues.

Maybe more like 60/40.... or maybe more 70/30...

I cried. Then I cried some more.

I moved out. Then I ordered the papers.

Someone is inside my chest, putting pressure against my ribcage and making it ache.
Someone is grabbing my heart, stretching it like taffy, digging their sharp nails into the organ.