The threat of vanishing shakes my routine existence. I do not shore up well under loss. I know I do it. I cling too much. But I am afraid that if I don’t everything will be lost, this one oh-so-important thing which in going would take all the color and all the meaning and all the purpose of all the other things and thingness with it. I gave too much and asked too much and wanted more than was offered or could be given. I am too much. But all I want is to be wanted. To be allowed to offer everything I know to offer and have it be okay. I am so tired of offering myself naked and shy and having my small self be rebuffed or ignored or run from as if the offer, me, little as that may be, is diseased or alarming or invisible or indistinguishable. I want to want and not to want and to return a want and have that have it all be okay.