The harsh reality that my partner left me nearly six months ago and I still can't sleep properly is looming over my head as I attempt, fo the fourth time this week, to go to sleep. Despite several rather enjoyable encounters with men of varying states of suitability and cleanliness my general attitude to my relationship status is one of constant frustration, and sometimes downright disappointment. I feel like I've been thrown on the unwanted pile, which might be a less bitter pill to swallow if I wasn't 21 years old. And forced to live with my parents. It matters to no one that in my head I'm a middle aged jewish woman who wants to feed people, and instead of being left to grieve for my stupid, worthless relationship, people seem to think I am 'getting over it', 'moving on with my life' and other such bullshit. There is no such thing. When someone leaves you, you do not get over it, you get used to it. Eventually you will be so accustomed to this new state of existence that it seems like the world has somehow righted itself, but it doesn;t make it real.

My partner did not take long to find someone new. She happened to be a very good friend of mine. They kept it a secret, safe in the knowledge that all of our friends would keep the secret too, as no one wanted to hurt my feelings. I doubt many of them cared that I had to ring him up and ask him who he was sleeping with, as I knew he was with someone else, and I knew all of our friends did too, but they all refused to tell me who the girl was. I don't think many of them ever understood how humiliated I felt, and still feel everytime I have to see pictures of them together, or hear about one of them. Most frustrating is the knowledge that, despite assuring me she was a fling, and nothing for me to get upset about, they are moving in together next year. In the street next to mine. Once again, no one felt like this was something I needed to know. As far as I know he is unaware that I had the pleasure of finding out via Facebook, his new girlfriend being either woefully indiscrete or pathetically shallow (her profile picture is the 'couple shot' that she changed the day he told me about her, which makes me veer towards the latter). I wonder if he plans to tell me before I bump into him walking down the street? With his track record for honesty, probably not.

I worry that my inability to let go of the anger will make my life more difficult than it should be. I feel cynical, and bitter. And old. And I still can't sleep.