When all it takes is a couple of months for someone to discard eight years of love and commitment, you have to wonder what those eight years were really made of. You have to wonder.

And then it takes a while to start feeling the pain from a wound this deep.

Paulo, you really should stop hoping. Stop. Stop hoping. It only hurts to hope. Don’t hope. Don’t let yourself hope. You’ve lost far, far too much. Hoping will only cause you to lose it all over again. Stop hoping. Don’t hope.

I don’t know what to pray for anymore, I don’t know what to hope. I can only sit and wait in a puddle of tears and know that the Lord is on his throne.

Thanks to Wayne Whitmer for the shopping tip; I went to Valu-Plus in Lexington Market to get a discount winter jacket, thermal underwear, mufflers, and a pair of woolly gloves, all for just $25! Oh, and I lost the Nepalese hat somewhere yesterday (wah!), so I got an insulated ski cap to replace it. (See webcam.)

This is the part where Paulo starts quoting mushy love songs about broken hearts, and Bible verses of comfort and encouragement. Except that all the love songs are 16th Century canzonets, and all the bible verses are from Ecclesiastes: “MEANINGLESS, MEANINGLESS!!!”

Chi passa per questa strada e non sospira, viato quillo chelo poté fare. E dince che c’imprest un po de filo meschino me, quanto mu cuso questa piagha mortale.