I’m pretty much out of hope for reconciliation. Hope was what was keeping me able to (sort of) be happy. I just kept telling myself to be patient. It kinda worked.
But I guess she just doesn’t like me. She won’t say that, but it has to be true. We have so many attachments to each other that it just makes sense for us to work things out and stay together….except all that goes out the window if she just plain doesn’t like me.
I’m always going to feel rejected, because that’s what happened whether she wants to face it or not. I got kicked out, rehabilitated myself utterly, and found out it was too late to make any difference. I’m still clean, still fighting depression, only now I figure “what’s the fucking point?”
So we’ll see how long that lasts with precisely no external motivation whatsoever. There’s not much incentive to stay healthy when you don’t love yourself, and don’t trust those you love most. I love our kids, but they remind me of her, and all this tragedy in my life really has me wondering if, in the end, I’m not just fucking things up with them too. I’m really pondering that one.
It’s a barren and pale satisfaction, knowing that my love outlasted hers. I always figured I would be the one to fuck that up. But I do still love her, and always will.
I’d better try to look forward to this lifetime of awkwardness and unrequite.