I spent this week doing things to try and take care of myself. Trying to be nice to myself. I died my hair, painted my nails, went out to a comic book store and for sushi. Went to an art gallery. And I did all those things alone. Yes, they're comforting on some level, but when you sit in a little restaurant, a tiny table for one in front of you, watching the couples and families and groups of friends around you, you want to cry. Cry, because your life is basically over. You missed your chances to be loved.