Thoughts and feelings around abject despair...
Every night I go to bed, and I hope that tomorrow will be better, and that I will have the emotional and physical energy to start living my life again. Do all the things I used to enjoy, to go running and training again, get fit and enjoy wearing all my nice clothes again, start socialising and having fun and enjoying what I have worked so hard for. To be appreciated and part of someone’s life. To have friends and enjoy doing things. But I don’t.
And every morning I wake up with a pointless sinking feeling, barely able to get dressed, neglecting not only myself, but my environment. I’m lucky if I get out of my dressing gown some days, let alone have a wash or brush my teeth, and  I’ll often open a bottle of wine by lunch time, which leads to two bottles by the end of the evening, plus chain smoking my way through countless packets of cigarettes, in a pathetic attempt  to stem the empty shit  painful, pointless way I feel these days.
I drift between the bedroom and the dining table like a fucking amoeba , often so worn out that I work from my bed with my laptop, barely scraping thru the day, unable to recognise the person I see before me in the mirror, growing increasingly fat and out of shape, and increasingly miserable and without purpose. My life is empty, and I have little or no interest in anyone or anything these days. Not all of that is about you, but the heartache and terrible sense of abandonment I feel about the way you handled things, and the way it left me feeling is indescribable, and at times threatens to overwhelm me with grief and despair.
Sometimes I shop online, to relieve the boredom and empty spaces, and end up buying a load of clothes that I will probably never wear, or can’t get into, because I refuse to accept that I am no longer a size 'small' and I refuse to have clothes any larger than that in my wardrobe, as I’ve never been the size that I am now, so I sit and look at them and think how I’ll slim back into them again, but the motivation escapes me right now.
I have no idea where all this will end up, and I often feel so out of control and so low, it scares me.
I really don’t know what to do or where I’m headed anymore.
I feel trapped in a web of my own misery, and I’m having trouble getting out. I need someone to rescue me from myself, but they never come, and I’m too exhausted to go out and find them. So here I sit. And there you sit. Apart, but always longing to touch each other again.
 And I guess we always will...