In my winterI am glad I am going to the States next week. Things are so hopeless for me that I do not think I could face many more days of this. It is just one thing after another. I cannot bear how lonely I am. I have no one to help me through it and that makes it hard.
I did have. I felt loved and wanted and that helped sustain me. But I know I am not the kind of person who can be loved for long. I don't know what it is about me, I truly don't. Maybe it's just the confusion of life.
Each of the women who have loved me has found it has gone sour for them, without my really feeling I ever really had any influence on their feelings or how things were. S was angered by my need to protect her, P felt slighted in ways I don't really understand, Mrs Zen felt she should have more allowance simply for being a wife and E decided I have too little meaning for her to bother with at all.
There is nothing worse in this life than for someone to stop giving you love. I could bear torture more easily. I keep telling myself that it's not unreasonable: S needed me when she was at a low ebb, and felt I let her down; P needed me because I suppose she felt it flattered her to be befriended by someone she looked up to; E needed me when things were bad in her life, and now she feels they are better, she is discarding me. What do I have to offer anyway? I am just a sad, lonely person with little left to give. I wasn't good enough at having a family to keep my children; I wasn't good enough to keep my job or for my clients to want me to work for them; I am not good enough to suffer for. I am not even good enough for women to want to go on a second date with, even when they laugh all the way through the first.
It's hard not to be good enough, to feel that you are never going to be, that it's only a matter of time before people decide it's just not worth it with you. I don't want to be writing this, and I think this will be the last I ever do write about this kind of thing. It's going to be pirate stories and other shit from here on in, because I can't stand that the people it really mattered to me to care about me just didn't, that I am left with the fear that in time, I really will be lonely enough that I don't care about living any more, and no one will even care about that.
How did I get here? How did that nice Cornish boy come to this? I wish I knew so that I could unravel it. But I can't. Sorry for wasting your time with more whining. I won't do it again.