My weight's 185 today. Neat. Looks like we're stabilizing. Still want to nudge downward a bit, but it seems achievable now.

Still no sleep since Monday, 4:00pm. This goes beyond insomnia at this point; I think something has finally broken inside me and that thing helped me sleep. Anymore, it's not anything specific that "keeps me awake". Sure, I still worry about stuf and get angry, sad, scared, lonely, etc. But now, it seems like I just don't get sleepy. It won't be long before I just eventually pass out and get the rest I need, but right now sleepiness just doesn't come to me.

I am starting to realize I'm feeling some stuff I probably didn't want to see in myself. I think recognizing it might be a good step in trying to resolve some of it and get through it.

I'm hurt, lonely, and all that fun stuff, sure, but there's more. Oh joy. :)

I'm fucking angry. I'm angry at two people in particular right now. I'm angry at her for telling me it was over with him then changing her mind, changing her mind again back to me, then finally changing it back to him again. I'm angry at her for making me feel as though the worst thing I've ever gone through in my life (my divorce back in January) would turn into the best thing ever in my life (being with Erica for the long-term, possibly even for life), then taking that away from me.

I'm angry at him for everything he's done to her, and for sticking around even after their breakup like that annoying kid down the street who won't ever really leave you alone. I'm angry at him for taking her back, for still being available to her even after everything they've done to each other. I'm not thrilled with the things he has to say about me, either.

What I'm most angry at is the advice I get from her sometimes. I am not good at openly expressing frustration without just being sarcastic or spiteful. I know she offers advice honestly and that she really is trying to help me. The problem is, it feels like sometimes she is still twisting the knife with every word.

The big thing is this: she tells me she's sure I'll find somebody, that I'll heal, that I'll become a better person. She's sure that I'll make new friends and get settled in quickly in my new home wherever that ends up being.

That's all well and good, but here's what sucks about all that: I'm sure she still hurts from all this too, but she is with the person she wants to be with. There is pain in her heart, but the man she wants to spend her life with is right there, with her, ready to spend his life with her, to help her through that pain. She has friends. She has coworkers. She has the mate she wants.

I have none of that. I risk sounding incredibly cocky and self-centered by saying this, but I suspect I have a hell of a lot more, and deeper, wounds to heal from all this than she does (after all, she hasn't lost anyone or anything, now has she?). I need some kind of support structure around me to rely upon right now. The kind of hurt she experiences is different from mine -- or perhaps mine has more elements to it. We're both hurting, I'm sure, from the decision to call it off between us romantically. If she really feels about me the way she says she does, I'm sure it still hurts. Thing is, she's got who she wants. I've just lost who I wanted. I have to cope with my divorce, and now cope with losing this relationship, and I get to do it alone.

That is fucking bullshit.

I have gained, just through that rant above, a deeper understanding of my current sleep issues. I don't sleep anymore because my mind's too busy to bother. But I also don't sleep because I just don't care about myself anymore.

It's weird to admit this, but I honestly think I've just given up. I was clinging to a hope for awhile (through much of March) that she'd change her mind again, and things would get better again. She didn't. They didn't. I gave that up.

I was clinging to a hope for awhile that I could turn myself around financially. Tomorrow, State Farm will try to pull $195 or so from my checking account to cover insurance for April. It's not there to be pulled. Tomorrow, my car payment of $474 will be due. It won't be paid, because a check written on my account to make that payment won't be honored by my credit union. Tomorrow, all my credit cards (except NextCard) will be past-due for the month by at least a few days. I have $35 or so left in my checking account, and the cards are all maxed (and soon to be disabled anyway). I no longer even have enough money left for that whole "one last desperate shot at having some fun first before slinking back home to my parents" idea. I was clinging to a hope that I could clean all that up. I couldn't. I've given that up.

I was clinging to a hope that something, anything, would happen to help make this mess easier, better, or go away. Of course it didn't. I gave that up.

I was clinging to a hope that I would be able to heal these deep wounds, at least a litte, so I could get on with life. It still hurts just as bad right now as it did when it first hit me. I've given that hope up too. More alarmingly these days I find myself wanting to inflict more injuries on myself -- to pile pain upon pain upon pain until I finally hit that blissful threshold where I no longer feel pain.

I have explored the spirituality option, and it has left me feeling as empty and alone as everything else does. Either God doesn't exist, isn't listening to me, isn't talking to me, isn't willing to help me, or I'm unable (or unwilling) to hear or listen. Fair enough. Y'know, God, if you really do exist, I'm not pissed at you anymore. This is my lot in life. If you've been trying to get hold of me but I just haven't been listening, that's not your fault. Sorry I'm giving up.

Regardless, spirituality isn't the answer. Companionship isn't apparently going to be an option either -- I'm already an unwanted third wheel here, and a disgruntled, depressed, lonely divorcee is the last thing any reasonably sane person wants to take into their lives. Introspection isn't going to help me much -- I loathe myself. I hate everything about myself, and whenever I wander into the cave of my soul the demons I've created and put there myself bite my head off for even trying to enter.

So that's it. I quit on me. I'm done. It's over. I'm not going to take care of myself anymore. I'm going to stay faithful to the commitments I've made to others (my employer, for example), and I will do my best to do what's right for other people, but this charred lump of heart and soul left here in this body are just fucked. I've given them many chances, and every time it's failed. So screw it.

All that's left in there is a little flicker of love and caring for other folks, so I'll just get that out of the way now so I can shut the door on the emotional stuff entirely.

I still love Erica deeply. That's still the strongest emotion I feel whenever I allow myself to feel anything. As jealous as I am of how well things are working out for her (partially at my expense and partially by being sacrificed myself for it to happen), I am glad she is happy. I honestly hope she stays happy. I'm even happy for him, too. He's a lucky guy getting such a special woman.

I still love my ex-wife, and to this day I still worry about whether she'll make it on her own or not. I'm happy for her that she's got that guy she's sleeping with now; at least she isn't alone.

I hope everyone I leave behind finds a happier, better life without me than they would have with me. I will make arrangements to take care of everyone I care about before my time comes, and I will make things as sterile as possible. I don't want to burden anyone with dealing with my leftovers, whether it's my "estate", my wrecked worthless carcass, or my belongings.

With all that out of the way, I think I'm done. I'm going to go stand outside now and watch one last sunrise before I switch off the feelings forever and get on with taking care of things.

And no, Erica, I'm not quitting my job. As I've said to you from the beginning, only two things will ever make me leave your side: your asking me to, or my death. As long as I am able, I will be there for you. If you believe anything else you read in this entry, you shouldn't have any trouble believing this part. update...

Well, I watched the sunrise. The ocean was pretty. It was neat.

The last of my "heart" wants me to remind the world that it isn't too late to prove me wrong. This whole posting (and my previous one) isn't a "crying out for help" ... it is honestly how I feel.

I think it's important, though, for me to just come out and say that I will still accept help if it's offered to me. All that I long for is gone, but I will still glady take it back if it comes.

Whether it's someone just holding me for hours, playing with my hair, talking gently and soothingly to me and reassuring me it'll all work out, or a woman offering me a night of sexual intimacy to help take my mind off things and make me feel good again with physical pleasure, or someone listening to me rattling on and on without arguing, if someone wants to offer it, I'll take it.

I don't honestly believe people care enough; I know it's fun to say you'll be there even at the worst times but it's harder to actually do it. I think part of me still wants to be rescued. Part of me desperately wants somebody to stand there and say "No, I'm not letting you fall apart!" and actually show up and "save" me. It'd be nice to have it happen, but my heart, much as it hopes for that, knows it probably won't.

I owe it to myself to ask just one last time, before I completely give up.

Please. Somebody. Anybody. Help me.

I need love, hope, intimacy, hugs, reassurance, and some kind of fucking human contact. I need to feel like I'm not alone.