Ennui, summer, and what it's all for

I joined a writing group tonight. But I don't write anything besides mediocre literary analysis for school. And that's over.

I'm a fraud. But I'll try. But while I'm a mediocre writer, I'm also a mediocre fraud.

I realized that just meeting with people and talking to them was good, mostly afterwards when the veil of depression slipped over me again while I waited for the bus. It's so beautiful outside in the evening, but that's when I feel worst. I walk around and see groups of friends together, laughing, and barbecues in backyards. Through screendoors I hear families having dinner and parents getting their kids to bed. People work in gardens in the evening. I peek at the prices of all the homes for sale, knowing I can't buy a house or a condo or a hovel. All the commonplace happiness feels out of my reach.

No one knows how much help I need. Except A. And I think he has hurt himself, or at least wants me to think he has. Both are bad options. If he's done something to himself, I shudder. I would never know. Or be able to openly mourn. I don't want him to do that to himself. And if he's trying to make me think he has, well, that's bad too. Because I am worried. Last time we got in a fight because I am tired of giving him money. It's no good for me. Am I paying to have a boyfriend? Pretty much, yes. And when I bring this up to him, he berates me, tells me I am selfish, he has nothing. I said, I don't want much, I just want to keep what I have.

I know it's manipulation, and I know he is a sorry example of any type of person I would ever want to be with. But I am with him. When he's not with his wife. Even when they almost broke up, though, I wouldn't have him. I wanted him to get back together with her. I want him to leave me. I want to leave him. But he is my best friend, because I have no friends. He repulses me and I can't live without him, now. I imagine I were the type of girl who would have none of it. The one I was when I first found out he was married...I threw him out. I was that girl for several days, until I said I would look past it, wouldn't ask for details. Almost 2 years later and I'm not that girl anymore. Not even close. I'm not jealous. I don't care. I really don't care. I have compartmentalized to the point of no compassion, no ideals. I think she must be stupid to be with him still. She knows he's a philanderer. They can't even take care of their child. Or themselves. Two losers, together, losing themselves even more. And I'm somewhere in this, making it worse, or at least not making it better. And what about ME? I'm losing myself, alone. I thought I deserved more. But I don't.