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Each lie hurts a little less than the last... maybe that's the intention?

What would be nice is to not be lonely anymore. I've gotten into something I thought I wanted... but realized it will never be what I want. It's really not fair at all that I still make the odd number... and will for what seems like the forseeable future. I'm still holding on, not giving up... for the hope that some day things will change or progress to the point at which I will not be the odd man out... It's rather frustrating, but I suppose we make our own beds and therefore must lie in them. It's just starting to feel like something is wrong with me... that nobody seems to want to be seen with me. Big Sigh.

Instead of letting myself simmer in the lonliness and heartbreak that is the path I've chosen (yes... I made a conscious choice, knowing full well what the true story must be, even though it still has yet to come out into the light), I'm embracing the cynical bitterness of it all. Who cares, right? Everybody lies. I've never ever had the sort of relationship that I wish to have... and never will. So why continue wanting it? Why not focus my time and energy on something more constructive... like art... and dance... and (hello) raising my children?

That's all well and good... but after living without hope for so long, to have tasted the hope makes it that much more difficult to let it go. At this point, "too good to be true" is starting to encompass anything good at all.