I give in: revised, with added boringnessWithout these small things, I will die of loneliness. I don't know whether it felt worse to write into what was almost a vacuum or to feel like day after day I had no one at all to talk to.
I used to. I used to have people I spent time with, albeit virtually, day after day. But in one way or another, I proved not good enough for any of them. The same is true in "real" life.
It is particularly hard when you feel you are making someone happy, when you can see you are, and they decide that something abstract is more important. I have never done that to anyone because for all my failings, I live in the real and take it as it is.
I probably shouldn't. If I lied and cheated, I'd probably find the contentment that trying to face it honestly has mostly robbed me of.