I know now that the pain is not what I hoped, or by chance, hoped it would be. It is still with me. I dread the coming week. I don’t know why. Maybe because it will pass as quickly as the last two, even more so if time works the way it normally does. Two weeks from now it will all be over. Just as it was last year. THe anxiety that happened in the middle is what I dread. How far will I travel before I don’t feel that way. I dread everything lately. Not some woeful sense of dread, but dread of not knowing if I will ever remember what happened. Dread of all the unknowns. Dread of repeating the same day day after day as I repeat the same day dreading the same day, day after day. I sit here, attached to this machine, as so many others are, not knowing where I begin and it ends. I long to use my hands again. I am alone with another int he room. I am alone with others all the time. THe conversation is killing me. I wait for the real me to step forward, but I keep tripping the fool who tries. I cut short all of the things that I have always wanted. I kill what is the life that I dreamed of. One year ago this very week I was in this same position with hope. Hope got off the jet at JFk and ventured elsewhere. I made my way home with less than I started the adventure with. I can’t see my future right now and it scares me. I can’t dream my days and worries me. I am almost lost of all feeling. What was it that I wanted this all for. what was it that I started this for.Alone and some is in the room. Alone and someone isn’t listening.