Still —– seems the focal point of my life. My mental life, my emotional life, even though we are not together

Still —– seems the focal point of my life. My mental life, my emotional life, even though we are not together. I still orbit around her star, a distant orbit, but quite happily so. I cannot give her what she needs, and cannot be the man she wants—any man who can be the man his woman wants is not really a man, surely. Less than a man. A castrated man. An emasculated man. The type of man who is taking over Europe, at least, unfortunately. “Snowflake” man, if I have understood the meaning of this phrase correctly. 120. Any man who can be the man his woman wants him to be is a man who I instinctively, perhaps stupidly, lack respect for. A nice man, for sure. And I envy him his happiness and his contentment to be with the woman he so patently loves. Yet nice, it can never be me. Never.
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