I am so composed.

Why no tears?
Tired? Distraught? Not comprehending? Indifferent?
Probably a combination of all. Too many blows, can't go any lower, can't take anything seriously. Can't even get angry.
And not worth it.

Aye, there's the rub. That's what caused most of this mess. I don't feel angry, or hurt, or powerful or vengeful or sad or mad. I don't feel sorry for myself. I feel stupid. Comprimising standards for the sake of familiarity.

Angry outbursts point to a weakness. I may feel mistreated, but I don't have the energy, nerves, or desire to lash out. I had less of an emotional investment. So now, when it comes down to it, I don't give a fuck.

This is my favourite -- "you crave it inside to feel like a piece of meat and your self value stripped away". Such heartfelt prose. It's a "slab of meat". Or maybe that's a reference to the Scorpions song in which the term "piece of meat" refers to a male penis. Better yet, call me some sort of vegetable.

But maybe everyone is right. This is where it ends. Favourable turnout for me I suppose. Given the circumstances, it should have been worse. Thank you Jupiter, the giver of gifts and luck.

Really, I am undeserving.

I feel like a brick wall. Everything bounces off of me.