Alone Again, Naturally.

What's worse, is, I once felt. I was once moved, I once believed in beautiful things and people. I once wished for things, didn't simply float along the river of life expecting to be hit by something. (God knows what this is?) I'm exhausted an saddened all the time by my lack of feeling, lack of passion and drive, lack of color I once knew. I need a change a strong, all encompassing change that brings me to life. Something has to be done so that I can be myself again. My relationship is a joke, there is no passion, no fire anymore. I only feel safe and childish. My job I've been stupid enough to destroy, using murderous rage I feel at getting threatened with firing to obscure my reality. I'm on the nerve of an emotional and physical breakdown. Something has to be done, needs to move in a positive direction. I need to feel useful, feel like I have a purpose again.

Is this what age is? Is this how married life feels? Are we constantly faced with the problem of being satisfied just enough to stay but not to the point where we want to? I believed in something once, I was a person once, not just a channel through with Macy's extracts its shoe data and Baruch achieves mediocre student results. I only experience an occasional high, spending fortunes on clothes I imagine will take me places without the slightest idea how. Temporary highs, that's all this has become. Is this the reason some women get married, have children? Events and event and events, piling on, giving us something to do when we can strive no longer after this endless cycle of what feels like losing over, and over, and over again. I once imagined that once I made up with my family, I'd be ok. I have and feel emptier than ever. I think the last two years have been spent reliving a childhood I never felt I had, that the emptiness I felt at being a daughter left behind and unwanted was necessary to who I was. I have no idea how to live on now that I don't feel it.

When J. and I broke up, I thought it was the worst pain I'd ever felt. I now know I've become my mother, so obsessed with keeping my comforts that I never move beyond. I cannot remain stagnant. I feel trapped and saddened by my empty nothingness. Food no longer fills this void, something I'd never thought I'd say. There was a time when I was happier, when I wasn't so numb and scared all the time. I've drank gallons of coffee in the last months, gotten more comfortable with the idea that I really should break it off with J., accustomed to rebringing the fantasies of marrying a man I yearn for.

Tam wrote to me from England recently, and it was all I could do. I know he's still single, and every fiber of my being knows I really should see him. But how does one say that? Is it too late? I'm 25 now, he'd be 32. What would I do for work, for school? I feel so complacent with my unhappiness. I worked so hard for J., the little shit he really is, and I can't help but think there was a time when I loved myself enough to not do that. I need her back, my confident, wonderful self that was so beautiful she once flew in men she hadn't ever met. She sparkled, that woman, and it hurts that she was me, as I'm gray and lusterless now, getting older, getting fatter, no drive, barely will to live let alone live well. I've tried almost everything, but it isn't enough. I'm showing my unhappiness and am beginning to feel off balance and mad. Alone like a child in my room on weekend nights where there was a time I would be out dancing. Can I still dance? Can I still go out and be the women I am meant to be? Where is my will to live? When did this endless desire, this hurt and distrust of the world originate from? When did I come to believe that life is worth nothing more that piece of cake and some new outfits? I once felt. I once cried and knew why. I wasn't always happy, but I wasn't so bland. Something is not right here, and I need to fix it.

My cousin prayed to St. Anthony (in my emptiness, I've become a Catholic again, after years of not worrying about what God thought) to find her a job. I wear that bracelet every night, hoping to find myself, in a place other than in my writings from years ago. I want to feel worth something again, I want to feel like the goddess I once believed I was. My friends from then wouldn't recognize me anymore, even if we'd kept in touch. Is every year going to make this worse? Is everyday going to be filled of obligations I don't truly desire to fill? When did I get left out of my life?

Help me. A long time ago, when I believed in wishes, I wished with all my soul that I'd be found. I cannot tell you how much it still means to me.