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A purge surfaces in a wide variety of ways. Tonight, it's me uninstalling computer programs. It's a benign kind of thing. I've got a country music song playing in my head and the smell of peanut butter on my breath. I just finished watching a bunch of videos of old people falling over and falling down; I'm tickled pink.

Words don't fail me now. Words, don't fail me now. Words (no emphasis on don't) don't fail me now.

I recently stumbled across this thing called existential loneliness. I haven't stumbled across what it feels like -- that's well known to me; to lots of people. But I stumbled across the term. I like how it sounds -- it just rolls off the tongue. I stole this from someplace: Existential loneliness is deeper and more pervasive than any other kind of loneliness. It often disguises itself as longing for a specific person or pretends to be yearning for contact with anyone, but this deeper lack or emptiness-of-being is not really a kind of loneliness at all. Being together with other people, even people we intensely love, does not overcome this deep incompleteness of being. This inner default of selfhood has never been solved by relationships, no matter how good and close and warm our relationships might be.

Previous people have bowed out of relationships with me saying "I'm not enough for you" or "I'm not what you want." It's funny that I stumbled across this thing called existential loneliness post-relationship(s). Maybe if I'd understood this thing back then I could have said, yes, you're enough for me, and yes, you're what I want. I could have said this has nothing to do with you. Maybe if I could have said these things the end would never have come.

From one of my favorite musicians: 'It's a hard thing to love anyone, anyhow.'