I hurt and I hurt and I hurt. I am lost and don't have a dream I am trying to find. I am existing and my thoughts slip away from me. I used to dream about spending my life with my husband and with my kids visiting. I used to dream about my parents treating me as nicely as they do the postman. I used to dream about writing a novel and getting it published. I still have that, but it seems as dry as putting my heart in to words on paper. I am meeting people but they will never be the very blood that makes my heart beat, they are just people. Is this how you have calm life, full of people with my feelings put in to words, and essays with those words written. I guess there would be nothing to fear because nothing gets really close.