I feel like I should be in some dive bar circa 1940.
My man done me wrong, and now I'm all alone. I should be leaned against a wall, wailing out some smoky, heart-tugging torch song about love and loss and oh-what'll-I-do.
And you'd think I'd be past this by now. Turns out, I'm not.
For some reason, this week I'm really, really, really lonely.
Don't misread me, here. I don't miss him. Honest. I don't want him back, I don't want to be his girl now or ever again. He's got a new girl and good luck to her. She's got her work cut out for her in him.
Me, I've been puttering along and telling myself I'll get through and patting myself on the back and congratulating myself for pulling up my big girl panties and getting on with my life.
I'm the brand new, oh-so-independent me, everybody! Aren't I amazing? We're all so proud of me!
I'm lonely. I'm so very, painfully lonely right now. I need a shoulder to rest my head on, a warm hand on my back as he guides me through a crowd, a set of fingers that raise gooseflesh on my body leaving heat in a trail. I need warmth radiating from the other side of the bed.
But the scared, intimidated, hasn't-gone-on-a-date-in-decades girl inside is wondering how anyone would want a middle aged, semi-frumpy, overworked, over-tired Mom of two - and one of those two is a disabled child, mind you - with a huge mortgage and a huge amount of debt and a real fear of letting some guy emotionally eviscerate her again.
And how can anyone love her when she doesn't particularly love herself right now?
Hard questions for a hard day in a string of hard days right now. I just need to soldier through and sing some sad songs and feel the hollow ache and it'll even out. It always does.
But today is lonely. It just is.