The sky never gets dark enough here. There are a few bright street lights that pollute the view that should be more convincingly night. It's almost 1am. I'm 26 weeks pregnant. Recently laid off (or fired if we want to be honest about it.) Why? Partly because my mental health is a trainwreck. Because I exist in not just a dead bedroom, but a marriage void of intimacy and care.

It's ok he sleeps in the other room. At this point in my pregnancy I snore up a storm and he needs to sleep well before the baby is here. I don't mind. But it's all the hours before we go to sleep. How he spends so much time focusing on helping his parents (which is ok) and being a pretty good dad (which is great) but not a second on being a husband. I am 40 years old and now accepting this is my life. I tried to meet some guys on here just to see -- could things be different. I went and found a guy who had to go and tell me he loved me and then basically "nevermind." Well, what did I expect?

So I'm back where I was albeit even more off kilter. I have to acknowledge the night sky here will never get darker. Some things just can't change. You dig your grave and you ought to lie there, under the street lamps you didn't notice while visiting the home during the day before you made your offer. Though it's a nice house. You have everything you thought you should want and yet something(s) so vital is missing. You try desperately to convince yourself it doesn't matter. That you are the problem (and maybe you are.) You settle for monthly pity sex and debate if you should just stop trying and accept a complete dead bedroom and turn your attention to other, more emotionally and physically lucrative hobbies. You give up. You just give up. This is life now.

Still, you miss looking forward to things. You long for a partner who plans with you, who laughs with you, who asks about your day and shares theirs. A husband who wants to share his hopes and dreams and frustrations and fears. A partner who has hopes and dreams. Someone who strives for something. Who inspires you a little bit. Who comforts you when you're scared and crying and being candid about the dark thoughts that cloud your days instead of sitting silently and waiting for me to stop.

I met with an exAP (the only real one I ever had) recently and for two seconds he put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. It was more affection and care than what I've felt from my husband in so long. Even if it was likely just done out of pity as well, as he didn't really want to meet and I was the one who made that happen. But just being with him, in public, talking and laughing and connecting -- even as friends now -- is so much more than I'll ever have here under this failure of a night sky.

I don't even want sex anymore. I just want to end all want. To embrace this new life. Alone. Invisible. Forgotten. To age gracefully. To be a good mother. A better friend. Someone who isn't exactly nothing despite being that to him, and now, my ex. To just remember how that shoulder squeeze felt and instead of mourning the loss of a few moments where I felt alive, cherishing those memories and secrets as reminders that I once was capable of feeling, loving, wanting, and maybe even being wanted before all my cards were on full view. To accept loneliness as my status quo. And go from there.