Why Do We Have Such A Finite

I Am Prone To Despair. We Are All Born With A Particular Personality. I Get Afraid And Then I Don't Want To Leave The House.

They Say The Path Of True Love Never Runs Smooth. Well, Luke And My True Love's Path Didn't Run At All, It Limped Along In New Boots That Were Chafing Its Heels. Blistered And Cut, Red And Raw, Every Hopping, Lopsided Step, A Little Slice Of Agony.

I Had Spent My Whole Life Feeling Homesick. The Only Difference Between The Two Of Us Was That I Didn't Know What Or Where Home Was.

I Know Of People Who Don't Believe It, But Depression Is An Illness, But Unlike, Say, A Broken Leg, You Don't Know When It'll Get Better.

So I'm Back Again To The Eternal Question, The One That Has Plagued Me All My Life: How Do Other People Do It? How Come They Were Given Life's Rule Book And I Missed Out? Where Was I When God Was Dispensing Capability And Cop On? Looking At Shoes, Probably.