Shit.

The last time I posted I was planning on resuming a narrative on my continued life here in the U.S. Then I stepped on my laptop and crushed the screen and lost ambition entirely.

I moved back to Minnesota because the love of my life had dreams of living in the U.S. and I had the connection and life here to offer them. On Christmas, just a few days ago, they left me. I was unaware entirely of the damage of which a broken heart is capable. It's completely paralyzing, completely debilitating. I feel empty and desperate and 100% woe-betide. Actually, I don't even think I'm an adept enough writer to adequately describe the feeling without quoting Shakespeare or some other such cliche. It might even be something one would have to experience to even approach the vicinity of understanding. I've been told plenty of times since that it's going to hurt like hell but that it'll eventually go away, but at the moment I seriously doubt that. It hurts so badly; I barely even have the ambition to care about living any longer because a life without them seems like a life at only 50%. I'm still waking up, I'm still going to work, I'm still breathing, but I'm feeling like if I can't share it all with the person who has my heart in their pocket then there's nothing special about doing it.

God, I wish there was just one word I could type that would explain everything. I hope like hell I can get over it because if my stomach doesn't untwist soon it's going to kill me.