Single life...you can have it.

Out of misery comes some of my best writing. Makes me think I should write a book called "24 Misses". Well, that sounds a little misleading...maybe "24 Misfires". That's the ticket.

So it's been very good for my sanity to have a housemate (JC). Although she hasn't moved in for good, we painted her room tonight (my first night off since the recent split). And she'll be living here during my birthday, thankfully, so I didn't break down at work when I looked at the schedule and saw how I gave myself 5 days off to celebrate. Guess I thought I was going to be traveling or something. Silly me.

I don't really know what I feel at this point. I'm really good at facades, so I think I've figured out how to re-present myself to the outside world. While I have allowed some mild anger to be vented, usually via a swift kick or beating of an inanimate object, I really haven't allowed myself to feel anything at all since the day. I feel hollow and dull.

But that's where the facade comes in! Or maybe I'm more English than I give myself credit for. Aside from the wailing and weeping of Monday night. (I was so proud of myself that I hadn't cried in almost 3 years up until that point.) "Keep calm and carry on".

Anyway, it's comforting to know that I'm as good at picking friends as I am horrible at choosing men. No depression-spirals, no boozing, no cutting, no catatonic states allowed. Just great, supportive friends keeping me sane. I think. It's hard to tell.

Of course, I haven't told a whole lot of people (i.e.: my family, work, or most of my friends) mainly because whenever I say anything about it I feel failure. Because I wasn't enough. Because all my efforts, all my little sacrifices, all my concessions were wasted and ultimately unappreciated. Because when I was having trouble in my last relationship, I had the guts (and the maturity) to sit down with the jerk and say exactly what was wrong and give him a chance to fix it, or at least a fucking warning that there were deal-breaking problems. I didn't let him languish for 2 and a half years while I stuck with not what I wanted, but what was convenient.

I'm tired of being "convenient". I'm tired of being expendable. I'm tired of failure.