I knew in February that things would end up this way, with me hurt and alone again. I always knew. I consciously made the decision to accept that I would probably end up hurt by letting myself get involved with something so obviously doomed to fail. I decided that the happiness I was feeling was worth the risk. I’m not sure now if that was a wise decision or not.

The Guy — out of nowhere — told me he was dating someone in the beginning of last month. One day it was “you’re the girl I care about,” and literally about a week later it was “I’ve been dating a girl from work.” I feel sick to my stomach even thinking about it. Not because I’m still in love with him, because I’m not, but because — once again — something like that could completely blindside me. And since I know that he never reads my blog (because he lost interest in anything I was doing online a long time ago), I will freely admit that I miss him. I mostly miss his friendship and our conversations, but some days I miss more. And it’s hard to move on when there’s nothing really to move on to.

I hadn’t had my period since early August due to ovarian cysts, so my doctor prescribed me something to make me start it. Now I have my period, and I am a massive mess of hormones and sadness and bloat. I feel like crying, but, of course, my old block has returned, trying to keep me from feeling anything but numb, trying to hold back tears that, for whatever reason, I keep myself from shedding.

I feel talentless and unmotivated. I feel like the odd one out in my family, the one who ended up with absolutely nothing to show for 26 years of living. And, seriously, how the fuck did I end up here? How I have I gone through hell, come out hopeful, and yet still feel utterly worthless? Why is that one day I believe in myself and the next believe in nothing? I’ve believed for so long that there’s a reason for all of the shit in my life, but now I can’t imagine what that reason would be. And if there is a reason, can I hold on long enough for my life to sort itself out? How long should I wait before giving up? A year? Five? Ten?

At eighteen, I would have told you emphatically that at twenty-six, I would have a college degree, a relationship, and happiness. Today I’d tell you almost as emphatically that I’d have those things at thirty-one. I’m not sure at this point if that’s optimism or just idiocy.

There’s still a twinge of hope in me, though. I said recently that I’d rather die trying than just giving up because I’m going to die either way. At least with the former, I can die knowing that at least I tried, even if nothing worked.

FB group: If Emily is in a Longterm Relationship Within 5 Years, Drinks are on Her