So, yeah.

Here I am.

At the crash site of unrequited love.

Again.

Boy, does it ever make me feel like a colossal loser.

And no, this isn't going to be some pathetic, whiny rant where I moan, "Why me?"

It's more like, "Oh, hello Loneliness. Welcome back to the party! Depression's already here."

That sounded so fucking melodramatic.

I'll get over it.

I always do.

I mean, if you're not the type who'd go straight for the knives and slit your wrists, you really don't have any other choice but to get over it, you know?

Career-wise, things are going great for a change. It's kind of cool to be in a position that matters and which I'm actually proud of. I wouldn't go so far to say that I love my job. But I like it a whole lot.

Lately, I've really been questioning if I even have the capacity to really love anything.

I'm not exactly the kind of person who's won over easily...that's why this latest romantic failure feels like salt being rubbed vigorously into a gaping wound...it's because I'm not the sort of person who falls very easily.

Now I worry that I'll not only have new walls but walls with metal bars all around my heart.