The tears, that is. Though I've had some really rotten days recently, I've also had some really good, positive ones (Boston) and some regular 'ole just days. Except at night. It's a Friday night, my girls are gone, I'm sitting at home, alone. Sitting on the bed with the two dogs reading Cosette (I'm reading, not the dogs; sorry for the sentence structure). And tears just start coming down. And I feel -- I don't know. Sad. Lonely. Stupid. Loser-ish. I just want to be able to sit and hold hands with someone, have someone tell me they enjoy being with me. Be able to rest my head on someones chest when I'm tired of being strong. It all sounds stupid and I know--someone will come when it's right. But this is me. It will never be right. Or rather I will never be right enough. Blah. Sorry. Just felt that writing it would help stop the tears. But hey, at least there's no chocolate in the house!