Still here. Maybe I shouldn't be writing. I'm hurting a little today.

If I'm not missing my guess, I would say that things are over between Faith and I. She got a letter yesterday from Paul and I think it has her thinking. She also talked to he and P.J. sometime last night, and I think P.J. was crying and begging her to come back home. And from the way she acted today when she left, I think she will. I don't think she's made up her mind yet, but the thought is definitely floating around in there.

If that's the case, then I guess I'm adrift. Completely. I can't go home to North Carolina. Home doesn't exist there anymore. But then ... home doesn't exist here, either.

Jesus. I hate this. I hate sitting here with this hollow lump in my chest. The saddest part is that I just want to get it over with. I am so fucking tired. I'm tired of being empty. I'm tired of being a ghost. There is nothing here for me. Now that I've started working, even the girls act a little differently. I don't know. Maybe I did break that family up. I've watched their videos, of the girls' recitals and plays and such. I've watched scenes of P.J., Lindsay, and Mollie acting up in their kitchen in Albany. I've watched them playing tug of war at school. And through all this I was struck by the “family” of it all. That's something I'll never be a part of here, no matter how I tried. I don't think I have it in me.

God, I wish it were different. But right now, I feel like I am simply something which came along and seemed good for awhile. Maybe it was something of a mid-life crisis for Faith. I may never know.

But my end sucks. I know that much.

When Faith left a little while ago, the only thing she had said to me since I got up was something about taking the garbage to the dump. Oh, no. She also asked if I had a dollar. That's it. I know she has a lot on her mind. I know she has a lot of hard decisions to make. I also know that we're facing rent, power, and so on again, and we don't have the money. We have nothing. I have $40 and have to figure out how to stretch it until next week when I get paid. But jesus, this hurts. I know all of the things which touch her mind. I think of them, too. I torture myself over the possibilities time and time again. But this has become two camps. I am reminded of the song “When I drink alone I prefer to be by myself.” Well ... if I'm going to live alone, I'd rather be alone, you know?

Jesus. Maybe it is over. Not so much because of Faith, but because of myself. I want to end this. I want to breathe again. I want to dream again. To live. And it seems like I'm just waiting for the axe to fall. Waiting for things to run their course. Even if I had made up my mind to leave, I couldn't now because of having no money, and having already sold everything I had. But I still want to end it. I'm tired of justifying my fucking existence. Or trying, anyway.