About two weeks since I asked for a divorce, just a little over that since I discovered she was carrying on an affair while we were trying to work on our issues from her initial infidelity. I tried so many times to reconcile. Each time, she would hem and haw, but eventually, fail me. Fail us. Excuses. Blameshifting. Cowardice and lies. I read, and am rereading, Leave a Cheater Gain a Life, for the anger it gives me that allows me to survive. But sometimes, in the quiet, that isn't enough.

Helped our roommate move out of the house yesterday. The house we bought 2.5 years ago, a month after we were married. The house I slaved over to turn into a home for her. For us. Said goodbye to my dogs. Now I'm back in the small bedroom in the back of a friend's apartment, living there because living in that house, with her, would be too much. Not for her though, apparently. I know, based on text messages I saw, that now she finally feels safe enough to have her AP over and fuck him in our bed. What was our bed.

This past week she texted me every morning. Kind words. Reminiscing. I asked again for reconciliation on Monday. "Not sure." I'm insane. I know I'm insane.

Yesterday I got on Tinder. It was therapeutic; it helped me imagine a future where I didn't die in a ditch. But this morning, as I was having a wonderful back and forth with an intelligent woman, I realized I didn't feel anything. I just wanted my wife. I wanted what we had. What we had built. All gone. All gone. Everything is gone.

I don't know that I can do this.