The best I feel is a kind of exhausted purposefulness (the way I do now) feeling the dragging horror of living alone with no real future, yes, but also the reality that it's not all yet as bad as it could be and I am still able to so something with my time. Something that might make my future worth living.

Now That, dear friends, is why I hate blogs. Self-involved, self-pitying rambling about stuff that would better be left in your head!