Always at first everything is great, right? Then the real people come slowly out of their shells. They spit on you like you’re not a human, breathing living a life they’re living in or among the same world…

Is there harm done if we hide our pain. Does it later come to hurt us? Are we creating little people inside us that are hurt and lonely? Especially with the huge pains?

Thanking for all we are given and asking for guidance through the rest of life.

Sometimes I wish to run away. My computer games are about as far as I can get.

The coldness of your soul is not there.

Poem three of 30.

This is only the first of many disturbing and yet poignantly funny chapters about a woman whose imagination, antics and insanity cause for a roller coaster life for her and her oddly curious and loving husband.

Fog hides many things you don’t want others to see.

I didn’t have anything to write about.

Entwined with sorrow.