When You're Alone and Life is Making You Lonely

I'm there again. Down Town. Not downtown, where all the lights are bright. Down Town. An ironically cute name for the place I go in my head when I feel like shit. Where I don't give a shit about what I put in my body, what state my house is in, whether anyone has clean clothes, whether I showered lately. Actually, not true. I DO give a shit. Because I hate myself for all these things. I hate myself for filling my body with junk and not exercising. I hate that the house is atrocious. I hate that the closet is carpeted in dirty clothes. I hate that my hair is limp and my legs are stubbly. But I just can't make myself do anything about it. I have VERY few friends. And they like me. A lot. But I try to forget that they actually have friends that aren't me. Circles of them. And they go and do things with them in ways that I can't be involved. So I'm stuck. Alone. With the kid. Which is depressing. Depressing because I'm stuck with the kid. And also depressing that I have the sneaking suspicion that I'm just using the kid as an excuse to be pissed off.