I'm officially lost. Some days are okay, some days are terrible. No days are really good. The days when things are okay are the days when I don't have to think about all of this. When my child is behaving and it's not a hassle to be taking care of her myself. When my parents aren't bugging me about something or the other. But even then, those days are just okay.

Everything is too loud here. I have no peace. And no privacy. There are workers doing renovations on the house. Always a drill or a hammer making noise. Always a dog or three barking, always someone cutting their grass. Or all of the above at the same time. I can't even hear myself think. Though at this point, I'm not even sure I would want to.

I hate that he has an apartment already. But I tell him that I don't care. Because he would just try to give it to me, and it's not big enough and it would never work. But I hate that even though he is working, I know he can just go home afterwards and sleep and do whatever he wants. He is free. He might miss seeing his child, I'm sure he does. And I'm sure it sucks that he is having to unpack and get all the shit set up over there, but he is free. And he will be...from now on.

But not me. What little freedom I may have managed to carve out for myself over the past year or so has now dissipated completely. It's gone. And that is my fate now. I hate that I can't even deal with this in my own house, with my own stuff. Isn't it hard enough that I have to deal with this as it is? But on top of it, I am forced to deal with it in this way. I hate this. I hate everything about this. I feel like I got tossed out. Even though I know the problems are real, and irreconcilable - I still feel beaten, and abandoned, and unwanted, and unloved no matter how many times he tells me he still loves me and always will.

I know now that there are things I will never have. And that my child will never have. She will never have a sibling. Maybe half, maybe step...possible I suppose...but not the same. She'll be an only child. My child, who would probably love nothing more than to have a little brother or sister - will never have that. She'll never have a real family, or have real family things. She'll never wake up on Christmas with both parents in the house. I guess it's good that she's young because she's adaptable and she's not going to really have to start going without things that she's used to. But it's still not fair. She won't have to lose things really...she'll just never know them at all.

I watch things on tv. Stupid things. Decorating shows with my mother. And they make me sad. Those people are all families. I don't have one of those anymore. It's amazing the things that you miss. The things that sometimes you wish you never even had. The irony is that now I'm realizing that with the family came a little freedom. Now I've lost two things. My family and my freedom.

I've lost everything. I don't even know who I am outside of this. I've spent virtually my entire adult life with him. I don't know anything else. I feel like the plague. Not only does he not want anything to do with me, nobody from my past does either. Even though I know that backwards is not the way to go. Why do people feel the need to distance themselves from me? Maybe everyone is else is just capable of moving on, and I am not. But, why? I feel pathetic. Like everything that was ever good in my life happened so long ago, and now it's too late to get it back. And the future doesn't feel promising. It feel scary and bleek. I feel useless. I mean, what do I have? What, other than my friends, do I have in my life that I am NOT losing?

I have no job, certainly no career, not even a degree yet. I have no promises that I will even get that degree, or be able to do anything after that. So basically I have no job, no money, no home, no prospects, no husband, I don't even have my car right now because he has that. I have my child who I can barely take care of, and a place to stay where either I will run out of patience or wear out my welcome very soon. That's it. That's all.

He tells me that I'm never positive. That I never think that things are going to work out. Maybe he's right. Maybe I am the eternal pessimist. But don't you need proof to have faith? He thinks that I'm creating my own miserable destiny. I think that blind faith is as good as walking off a cliff. So what am to do with that? I guess the negativity isn't working out for me. But then again, the believing things would just 'work out' hasn't really proved too wise either.

I try to believe that things happen for a reason. Sometimes it makes me feel better. Sometimes it just makes me feel damned. You start to feel that 'how much can one person take' thing. That happiness is a myth. And that people who claim to be happy are either lying or just luckier than me. Do they really make their own happiness? Is that even possible? Or is that just a lie too?

Everytime I think I have a problem solved, someone throws another barrier in my way. And I hate whining, and feeling pathetic and bitching about my problems. Because I hate it when other people do it. I hate feeling like things are never going to be right, and that all I do is complain. I hate being jealous of other people and feeling like everything is perfect for them. Or even if it's not perfect that they are better off. They have more options, they have more ahead of them, they aren't floundering. But I am. I'm just here. And I'm sinking. And there isn't anyone who can or will save me. And I don't have any idea how to save myself.

All I want to do is be alone, so I can curl up in bed...and cry till there's nothing left.