Perfectly lonely?

There comes a time, every so often, when one has to come clean. Today is that day. After all, it’s one day closer to my scheduled visit with my counselor, and I’m one step behind counting the hours until my appointment.

Truth be told, the last month has been a difficult one. As much as I hate to admit it, the fling with the trainer hurt me more than I anticipated. Do I miss him? No, I hardly knew him. But I was reminded at just how much it sucks to be rejected by someone you like.

It has reopened a wound that I just can’t seem to heal. And every time that wound gets struck, it hurts even worse, and my hope in ever finding love slowly fades.

I have officially lost that spark. That spark, the sass that tells me “his loss, not mine” or hey, it’s him, not me. I’m starting to believe it really is me.

But there’s nothing I can do about me. And because of that, it’s safe to say I’ve held a funeral for my dreams of getting married, I’ve cried over it, and now I have to stand in a dumb wedding for two people who I don’t think should marry.

Last Friday, I cried on my drive home from the gym. I am terrified that this will always be my life: work, gym, dinner alone, sleep alone, wakeup alone, etc. I pulled myself together as I exited the elevator just in time to see my hot neighbor. He was standing there, waiting for me to say something, but I just walked on, to my apartment.

“Sup?” he finally asked me.

“Just went to the gym,” I said. “I want to sleep for two days.”

He laughed, said something I didn’t care to hear, and I went inside my apartment. I just don’t care anymore. Why? Because here’s what’ll happen. We’ll have drinks one night, and flirt, and kiss, and he’ll act interested, and I’ll fall for him, and he’ll avoid me in the elevator for 3 months.

Glad that’s over with.

The only thing I can control right now is my work, and I’ve quickly developed a schedule that forgets sleep or food, taking on every job that comes my way, in hopes of finding a morsel of satisfaction somewhere among the hours of editing.

I want so badly to believe that I don’t need a man to be happy in this world. But I’m struggling between that idea, and the fact that I know even a warm laptop in bed next to me can’t replace a real person.

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