Me

It is a beautiful morning. I sat in the sun on the balcony and drank my Tahitea. Insomnia kept me awake until the alarm went off at 5a. I could have stayed in bed snuggled under the blankets, but I decided to get up and enjoy the morning. I love the sounds of morning.

When I write, I write from the heart. I know some readers have made fun of some of the things I wrote about. It is funny how things come back to one. Somehow, they always do. It is sad that some people make fun of the feelings of others, but that is out of my control. I write for myself. These are my thoughts. These are my feelings. They belong to me. I live my own life. I do not see anyone living my life for me.

I am not afraid to admit when I struggle. I can only hope that if there is someone else out there who struggles, they know they are not alone. That being said, time to change the subject or else I will sound like a pathetic self-pity individual and if there are four words, I can't tolerate it is "pity, sympathy, pathetic and rejection". As David states, "I feel responsible but I am not responsible". He also states, "15% is loss. 85% is responsibility which = guilt which = anxiety". Guess what I am working on?

 My brother Michael and I.

My sister Marianne and I. I was 5yrs old.

Not sure of my age but my hair became less red and more blond. I think I was 8yrs old.

Age 15yrs old. Going to the prom.

Age 18yrs old.