I can't go on, I can't go on.

Well, the trope does hold itself as commanded. Let me recount my day. There was to be a thing. She said she was going to go. I spent the day tired and nervous, nervous and tired, breaking into, at times, nausea. Heart beating, I arrive. She is not there, and doesn't subsequently come. I conclude: when one likes someone, one attempts to see them. Perhaps she has a reason, but I doubt it. The plans I had! I even, in expectation, got a dvd that we could watch. That's sad, both dolorously and pathetically.
This has been an exhausting week, emotionally speaking, for me. First the fb, which was such a big move, which failed. Then the waiting for the response, which was another emotional fail. Then a familial visit yesterday, which was fine, but tiring, and then today, which was ueber fail. I'm tired, tired, tired. It is interesting; I can specify an emotional state which i'd like to be mine. It is that of a fisherman. I sit in the sun and wait for nibbles. Now, as far as I understand, when fishing, when one has a bite, one doesn't immediately yank the rod out of the water lest the fish isn't completely caught. One waits, until the fish is so intertwined with the barb that it's well and truly fucked. This is what i'd be; waiting, and happy to be waiting. But I want action; I am torn between not wanting to leave this term, again, empty handed, which will almost invariably be the case, as I with a real sense of sadness realize, and thus wanting to do something, with the utter impotence i feel. FUCK. just halt fuck.
I'ma read some beckett. nessun maggior dolore che ricordarsi nella misericordia that you've never had, in your whole life, socialwise, a tempo felice.