Here's the bottom line. I could deal with being single if I had a crush on /someone/. But I don't. No one. I'm not into anybody. So I'm not into anything. Everything's hollow. Giving is unrewarding. Eating never satisfies. I dread sleeping because it means I failed another day, having found nothing to live for, but no reason to try to get away.
I have nothing anymore. You were everything and that's gone. You're not, but my investment is. My affection is. So my purpose is. We were not built to be alone. Even if we are single. We were designed to love, and I no longer do.
And so I am useless. Pointless. A machine. A series of input and output. And a constant disappointment to everyone around me.
And a pain.
And so I am become what I was.
No one minds.
After everything, me here now doesn't make a lick of difference.
Missing me isn't the same as loving me. Missing me isn't the same as caring about me. Missing me isn't noticing me.
People would miss me.
But they don't care that they have me now.
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