First try

This is me. Over-forty, overweight, underheight, overwhelmed and outdone. This is me. Five years married to a man who does not love me. Undersexed, overlooked, outsourced. Me.

It seems incredibly self-important to start this blog. What do others care about my psychic pain, which in the grand scale of life is nothing more than a hangnail. I live in a free country, I am well-educated, I have a nice house, food, family, friends, a career. So why so glum, Toots? Well, this thing called love keeps eluding me, has done for a long, long time. Do I really need it? Does it exist? Is it that important? Sadly, in an effort to keep the black dog, and the bottle of wine, and the ice-cream and the sleeping pills a little further out of reach, I am attempting this blog. Perhaps the mechanical act of fingers on keys, black letters on screen will serve to exorcise this sense of empty. Maybe the letters will all arrange themselves magically into some ancient wisdom. Maybe I will read the posts and realize just how pathetic I have become.

Me. Overwrought, undermined, outsmarted. Today is my fifth anniversary. Nothing, not even a hug.

Over and out,
Q