Sitting alone at a bar.
The table before me bereft of his presence.
He'd left me with this sentence:
"I'm sorry, I see no future for us."

I knew this,
I knew his thoughts already,
I always have.
We have this uncanny ability to be understood where no words were necessary.

I know who I am.
I am the 'ideal'...
Just not for him.
Apparently not for anyone.

I am the ideal rejection,
The ideal 'other', without belonging anywhere.

I float through life a rudderless ship,
Being tossed by the waves of hope and despair.
I belong nowhere and with no one.
I belong to my sorrow, to my tears,
To my pain and to my isolation.

Inwardly I retreat, protecting my heart,
Impenetrable through layers of resilience
Built through rejection, disappointment and 'not for me'

The pain has become my familiar companion,
Nestling close against my chest,
Purring me to sleep with its constant groan.

I wrap myself within my own arms,
Attempting to reconnect with my own humanity.
The loneliness trickles into cavities of myself
Filling empty spaces with the ache for human connection.