I don't cry anymore.  Truly.  I don't even get close to the feeling of it lately.  I feel a numbness taking hold.

I want so badly to feel connected, to feel close.  To be held and to be wanted.  To feel safe and protected.

I am so sick of games and bullshit.  I like being transparent and honest.  And I still have these feelings.  God help me but I do.  I wish I could just cut my heart out of my chest, tearing the fleshy pulp from my breast and truly feel no more sadness or emptiness or longing.  Because he so clearly feels none of it.  So clearly views me as a means to an end, a way to get off; something easy.  It hurts.  A dull hurt, but sometimes the dull pains are almost worst than the sharp twinges.  

And I know it makes me so pathetic and desperate and foolish.  Why don't I have more self-respect?  He doesn't even want to talk to me.  It breaks my heart, my spirit.  I cross one day to the next, caring a little bit less about everything each day.  My apartment grows a little more unkempt, a little more dusty with every passing week.  Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I wonder, who is this old, tired woman before me?  Who is this person who has so very clearly already given up on life?  

I am so tired and yet I rarely sleep anymore.