Bliss of Sleep?

My life is repeating itself all over again. I've wasted months of it! I spent all of July and August and September in a haze, and October and November and December, and now January? Worse? In a haze! Again! My head is spinning. I don't know what to think, what to do. Is it a matter of effort? Mere miscommunication? Fundamental absence of love? I asked him what I could do. He wouldn't give me anything. Nothing. I woke up this morning with stabbing knives in my abdomen again. They came back to find me. I am incapacitated. Miserable. Is he making excuses? Has he held back the whole time because of excuses? Can you allow real love to just drift away? I feel sick. Raw. Hurt. And I can't call him. Never really could. He's never there. And feels smothered by the attention I did give him, by the times we actually could be together. He was always running away. From the very beginning. Physically and emotionally. What do I do about that?

Right now I breathe. And make sure I eat. And stay hydrated. And not cry. Because crying will just give me a headache. It's cloudy outside. It's awful. And miserable. The world feels empty.

Extreme Extreme Extreme Setback

I feel like I am suffocating, vomiting, drowning all at once. I do not know how I am able to live through this much pain. It is incomprehensible. I spent three days with him. On an island. It was actually mostly amazing and extremely emotional. And then he told me he didn't want to be with me. That he was not going to ask me to move to where he is. I cannot fully process it right now. I cried so much my face is swollen. I feel nauseated, shocked, like someone is stabbing me in the gut with knives.

I can't believe I'm still in love with him. That he can still hurt me so much and does. I can't. Right now I am in denial. I had a plan to write him a letter every day. And to drive there in a couple of weeks. As of now I'm still going to do it. I dropped him off at an airport. I just checked his flight online just because I wanted to feel connected to him, to know where he is. I found out he lied to me about the departure time. By two hours. So he could get away from me sooner. My body is filled with knives. Somehow that lie is a lie on steroids. It is a lie that leaves me with even more unsure footing than I had before. I feel like I'm insane. Delusional. How could I feel something so strongly that he does not? I'm sick. Sick. Sick. Sick. And crying. It won't stop. I can't breathe.