I used to feel pretty when you looked at me. But now I just feel like an idiot, an old friend who's standing in front of you with waving arms and a pestering smile, saying, "Hey, pay attention to me!" And all you can do is look around me--through me--to someone standing behind me: to her.
I am invisible. I've told you this before and you tried to slide around the subject but you breathe irony too often and your words felt empty. I just can't win. Why do I still exist? There must be someone out there who can fill up this wasted space so much better than I can.
Free to good home: one life.
That's how the ad would begin. I suppose potential candidates would question the quality of this life and I would be forced to tell them the truth: that this life needs repair. And I would lose their interest. No one wants a life that's on the brink of falling apart. Hammers and nails and lots of glue don't seem to be working anymore.
This life will fall apart.