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Dear H,

Thanks for asking me how my life is going. It's not going well. Life is tough. Today I woke up early because I thought I heard someone bang on my door, but it was nothing. I was too frightened to go back to sleep, so I worked out and ate breakfast as usual. I really pushed myself today. I feel like if I push myself really hard, then I'll feel progress. Progress gives me hope, and hope makes me feel lucky, and feeling lucky makes me feel happiness.

It doesn't last very long though. After I ate breakfast, I stared in the mirror as usual before I went to shower, and I just felt so fat. It doesn't matter that you can see the veins in my arms or the ridges of my abs. I just know that I could be slimmer. Maybe she would have liked me more if I was slimmer. She always seemed more interested in talking to guys who looked more muscular than I was. She always told me I should work out more even though I'm very fit and can lift a lot of weight.

If it were up to me, I wouldn't put so much effort into being big and muscular. You know me, I'm almost six feet tall. But it doesn't matter because any smaller person with any skill could kill me if they wanted to. Kick me in the groin, punch me in the throat, and elbow me in the chest, and I could die if someone doesn't help me. Being big doesn't help that much. But here we are. I'm big and tall, but she doesn't like me anymore, and I feel fat.

After my shower, I finally felt tired enough to go back to bed. Naps after showers after workouts feel the best. When I lay between my sheets, I feel fit, thin, and ready to tap out of being awake. But to be honest, I always feel ready to tap out of being awake. I guess I want to tap out of being alive.

I sleep and sleep until my body doesn't let me sleep anymore, but I still can't get myself to get out of bed and move on.

It's been four months since she's told me she doesn't want to be with me anymore. Tomorrow, it'll be three months since I've seen or talked to her. I still love her like she's the love of my life, but she said no, and I have to respect her for that. I have to suck it up and say OK.

Earlier this week, I saw a video of a guy who beat his leg with a stick so when he kicked other people, it didn't hurt. I think it's called Muay Thai fighting or something. I think that guy is tough. It must take a lot of time and work for him to build that toughness into his body. It's pretty remarkable how the body can change and adapt to its environment.

But somehow my heart doesn't seem to be adapting. You'd think that after months of heartbreak and hurt from previous relationships, I'd be tougher and more resilient. But just yesterday, on the way home from work, I saw a new dance studio is opening up, and it hurt so much. I think she might have liked to try out the style they teach there. She's always so curious to try new things. But she's gone now, and I don't have the heart to go on my own.

You can hit your legs to make them tougher, but somehow feeling my broken heart every day doesn't make me any tougher. Every day is just another day of feeling numb and out of air. I have no will left to live, just barely enough to survive.

Anyways, I'm just going to hug my pillow until I can't sleep anymore. I hope you're doing better than me. I know you're tough too.