No, I didn't misspell it. It is exactly that .. mourning silently for every loss and insult in my life. Silently - and here as well with no face or figure. It's at least the only place where I know I won't be judged for my thoughts and feelings. I have spent the whole of 47 years wounded, beaten, beaten down and slowly dying. I have reached my limit of coping and reached my limit for just about nearly everything. I feel culled from the heard, shot from the helicopter like over populated game. There are so many of us hurt and dying souls. A small percentage finally succeed in reaching some form of even keel. I am a boat at sea in a storm that cannot right itself. Wave after wave .. a castaway marooned by my own emotion. I saw a movie once called, "What Dreams May Come". The scene near the end of the movie where the wife Annie is living in her own hell. Funny, that's my name. Her husband finally saves her (robin williams) by going to that hell with her and telling her he was selfish in life because HE was too scared to face his emotions. BUt in that movie they get a happy ending. I am still in that scene. Waiting for rescue. It's fucking Thanksgiving and I have not one goddamned thing to be thankful for-save for the folks here. I am alone, with no family that gives a shit, no one to share my bed or my heart with and no one to offer a hug. I've begun to drown my sorrows in alcohol. and with every drink I invite the grim reaper to show me the way to my new hell.