Some 30 minutes are left. As I gaze through the window, I am stuck by the fact that by some trick of light I can see everything before me and yet I am hidden from view.  As glass separates me from the world so does a door separates dream from reality.  I have left the door ajar and for a day I have fused one with the other.  I have been alone. Yet, haven't I been alone most of my life? Haven't I experienced this before when nothing remains but me and the silence that has become an entity? I have been alone, yes but have I been lonely?

The silence across the room says "Nay! For we have accompanied you'.  Creaks and sighs seem to emanate from all corners of the room as my own comings and goings make me known to them.  The hum, the tick, the beep, the whir all seem to say we are here and we have come for you.. The stillness of my surroundings stretches froth its arms and wraps me in an embrace upon which nothing can intrude upon.  I have managed to surround me with nothing and yet the nothingness acted like a fog blocking the prying eyes of the outside.  In my solitude I have been safe.  In the company of no one I have known peace.  Time and again I have been distributed my reminders of the time when the spell would be broken and I will be thrown back to the thundering river of humanity.  Yet, the solace that I have found would not as easily give me up as it sought to caress the worries away in kisses that dare not take any tangible from lest they be again banished into nothingness. I have conversed, I have laughed, I have shared this magical time with them.  In all this the world was oblivious forgetting for one glorious instance a soul that has been given but a day of freedom.  But now the sun is setting, and the fiery eye in the sky begins to glow bright as if in warning, as if in reprimand, as if in contempt.  The glass was beginning to lose its magic and the silence is being fragmented.  The door is closing and the rude awakening has begun.

I wearily shrug myself out of my chair and begin to prepare for the grueling journey that is called the rest of my life.  As I turn the lights off one by one, I begin to sigh in sadness for I know that though I come to this same place again for days to come, it will never be a hideaway again.  As the light was extinguished, I hear a soft adieu in the air.  The lock clicks and the sheltering prison is gone forever.

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, SHIE... I dont tell you often enough!!!!!

People get a perverse satisfaction from feeling wronged. The victim of injustice, the one who has been unfairly treated is morally superior to these who caused the injustice. It is aslo a way, or an attempt, to wipe out or eradicate a real or fancied wrong or injustice which has already happened.  Most of the time, the resentful person is trying to prove his case before the court of life, so to speak.  If he can feel resentful enough and thereby prove the injustice, some magic process will reward him by making not so the event or circumstances which has already happened.

I must say that resentment is an emotional rehashing, or re-fighting of some event in the past.  We cannot win, because we are attempting to do the impossible, that is to change the past.  Likewise, if we based it upon real injustices and wrongs, is not the way to win.  It soon becomes an emotional habit.  Habitually feeling that we are a victim of injustice, we began to picture ourself in the role of a victimized person.  This will soon leads to self-pity, which is the worst possible emotional habit anyone can develop.

Like any other negative feelings. It is not caused by other people or events. It is caused by our own emotional and we have the power to control it if we set a positive attitudes towards life.

Think one of the main causes of breakdown, worry, and all sorts of other personal problems, was this bad meantal habit of feeling that we should be doing many things.

Most of us feel hurried and harried because we form a false mental picture of our duties, obligations and responsibilities. There seem to be a dozen different things pressing in upon us at any given moment, a dozen different things to do, a dozen different problems to solve, a dozen different strains to endure. No matter how hurried or harried our existence may be, i must say that this mental picture is entirely false. Even on the busiest day the crowded hours come to us one moment at a time, no matter how many problems, tasks or strains we face, they always come to us in a single file, which is the only way they can come. I believe that we can overcome this feeling by simply taking the hourglass as an inspiration. Just as only one grain of sand could pass through the hourglass, so could we only do one thing at a time.