If I had stayed, would someone else have gotten my life? They sure have it now.

Go where I went, know who I knew, do what I did.

I would have to guess, yes. It is as if my world, which I held/hold so dear, just got an upgrade. I was as significant as a car. You get a new, shiny one, a better one, you hardly think back on your junker. Maybe with sentiment, fondness at best, ridicule at worst.

That's me.

Rusting in a yard full of useless shit. Or, what? Relegated unwillingly to a different life, a different family, a new role. But you loved your old one.

I guess I am supposed to look at the fact that I keep asking myself, "Why am I here?" and now get to answer it with, "Where ELSE would I be?" and mean it. I guess that I am supposed to look on the connections I have had cut as a new lease. A freeing to be where I am and be someone new (god knows I could use that.) But I don't.

I have a front row seat to just how easily I am replaced. If all the things and people you valued, if I had a chart, a ratio, some data that showed how much it all meant to me, how much I loved it, how much it felt more like home than anything ever...and then overlayed it with how much it loved me back, doesn't it render my own means of measurement...stupid? Doesn't it make my valuation of it...empty? To love a whole life for it's fullness, it's relationships only to see that I actually played a tiny supporting role and that a new actress filled in halfway through the season and no one blinked...doesn't that make me so foolish?

I have nothing here to replace it. I feel I have nothing anywhere but settling for less. That is what my life has become right now. Some wobbling attempt to make what I have feel like what I want. Feel like enough.

Fake it till you make it, right?

All this and I feel like I just looked into my emotional toolbox and realized I have a crumbling house, needing every repair possible, and I am left to it with a ruler and some wood polish. Try to spruce up a wreckage, tidy up my complete fucking collapse.

I think now, good god, how long have I just been glossing over how messed I am? How long have I been looking for an answer to my bone-deep...missing? How can I ever fill it? How can I ever feel ok? I never have. Maybe ever. Ever. That is a lot to take in. And a lot of negative reinforcement.

I feel like the happiness I seek doesn't exist.

Oh god, I am inconsolable. I am fluttering in the wind, hardly even there in my own life.

I am miserable. In every way. And it could be worse. That's what people say right? Worse things could HAPPEN to me. But, they mean cheating boyfriends who leave you for a better version of you.

What about the fact that I really want to leave me. I am the worst thing that could happen to me. Things don't get that much worse inside than this. Everyone else is right to bail while they could.

But unlike them, I am stuck here with me. I am the only one who can't jump this shitty, stinking ship.