When you’ve been with someone for a long time whether married or dating, it’s tough when it is done.

Who are you now?

What happens next?

Will you die alone?

Jeez, I hope not.

Is there hope beyond the brink of death, because to me a divorce or break-up of a long-term relationship is like death.

What happens now?

Where do you go?

Do I join the masses in an online dating blitz? Do I hide away from everyone while I gather my things together?

What is supposed to happen?

I have no idea, but I hope like hell that the next time, I get love. Real long-lasting love.

I didn’t feel loved, and I want to have that.

I want my fairy-tale ending. Bitch, I got the Cinderella dress and tiara.

I’m ready life. Bring me something good.

Sure, I’m sassy. I’m fiesty. I’m dead honest and shrewd. Emotional. Sensitive. Fun. Bubbly. A wee bit wild.

Who wants that?

There has to be an ass for this seat. A slipper for this foot.

A hand for mine.

Or maybe not.

Maybe I am just horrifically unlovable and undesirable.

Maybe I am nothing.

These are the thoughts that run through my head.

Because you all know–all 1,300 of you–that I’m shy.

I want my happy ending. And I want one for him too. I didn’t pick a bad person, I just picked the wrong person for me and me for him.

We deserve to have the dance at the end of the ball.

The prince charming.

The intoxicating, all-enveloping, consistent, present, and wonderful feeling known as love.

Please, don’t let this be it for me.

Signed,

Lonely in the Garden State.