Barking at shovels

...

Oh, god damn it. She was kind and regretful and seems to still genuinely want to be friends, and I am still as crushed as I can remember. I am wandering around my apartment, alone, alternately staring at the ceiling, shredding small bits of paper, and trying desperately to think of things that might distract me. Writing this isn't really distracting me from anything, but it's better than staring at the ceiling.

She's bound to read this. I'm sorry. It's not meant for you. I'd honestly prefer you didn't read it.

I am so *tired* of being single. This sucks. Could there be any way not to have to go to bed alone tonight? No, no there is not, because I absolutely do not have the emotional energy to spare to even take another chance, even if there was anyone to ask.

I am morally certain we would have been so happy together. She ... didn't feel it. What can you do about that? It is so cruel that there is no way to argue us to a common understanding, to make her see what I see, or at least perhaps make me see that she is right and I have not just lost anything after all.

I don't need commiseration. I need to feel wanted. If you're doing anything fun this week, I could use some invitations, because it's going to suck to be alone.

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