Does this have a title yet?

Today is fine. I got up about the same time as yesterday, actually 4 minutes later. It’s only disappointing because I thought I was waking up earlier by an hour or two, and had some thoughts about what I might do today.

I don’t remember any dreams, but that could mean anything. I purposely didn’t take melatonin last night, but I slept the same amount of hours anyway, so that basically indicates (I originally wrote proves and that’s bullshit) that I should still be taking melatonin on every day I have off.

I have, to be truthful, been flicking back and forth between my email and other sites during today’s writing, and I think I’m demonstrating to myself why this is a bad idea. I now feel burdened by all that’s ahead of me. There’s emails from My ex, being an asshole as always. I do not like him. I actually feel myself violently react inside of myself every time I think of him, or think of dealing with him.

I don’t like feeling that level of hatred for someone. I can feel it physically doing damage to me, more than I can even imagine doing damage to the other person. It feels like hot acid inside of me, like my stomach has ripped open, or more accurately, exploded inside of my ribs and the acid is eating through from the inside, up my throat and through my abdomen. I am consuming myself.

And this asshole is going to feel absolutely none of what he does to me. He literally does not care, never has cared, about me. At all.

I don’t know how I will ever come to terms with the knowledge that no one does.

My boyfriend is supposed to be coming back from NY finally, and with the way this boy is acting I don’t know if I care how anything works out at all.

Half of me feels utterly defeated. Everything I tried to do, all the hopes I managed to scoop together for one more try at a life, a feeling, are slowly looking more and more like the pile of dust and random household debris that they really are, and were the whole time.

The other half of me, and I’m realizing that there are more than two pieces so they can’t possibly be halves (or maybe, let’s see – I’m struggling here) feels like whatever, enjoy the show. What’s going to happen when the boy rolls by my new apartment – which he has not been to actually, he declined to go last weekend and he’s not getting an invite this weekend – and sees that sweet car (it’s true) with NY plates shining sexily in front of the house? He’s not stupid, that much is clear.

The plate on which the two halves are resting, or more accurately the whole by which the two halves are measured in reference to (yay physics, the sum is greater than the whole of it’s parts when it comes to synaptic transmission – I still have to call that professor, and many professors) actually does not give a fuck at all.

And I realize that I am just as much of an asshole as my ex is. I feel hollow because I am.

Why should I care? These men do not care about me either. They will cry and swear they cared and I broke their hearts, but really all I did was bruise their egos when they realized that they fell for a trick, or had to admit to themselves that they were being played.

That’s absolutely all it is, ever. Fuck those men and their egos.

I feel like my brain needs a shower.

And then her favorite song came on, and I realize that, I have cared. And I guess my ex cared too.

And I guess that’s why I keep trying to scrape things, pieces of myself, and my life, and what I used to have, together off the floor, because I miss that. I miss her so much. I miss having a life that might somehow mean something.

I don’t think I’m pregnant this month.

Good, I don’t deserve it.

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