I am going completely mad. I alternate on an hourly basis between gut wrenching sorrow, blinding furious rage, dull empty aching, extreme horniness (where does THAT come from???) to being the strategic planner, and then back again. There is so much more I want to say, but now more than ever I feel the need to protect my privacy. If I wasn't such an attention whore and wanted more and more people (who I don't know) to find this and say, 'Wow. Chasha is the best writer in the history of the world!' then I would seriously password protect this so I could write about what's going on. Nick, you know everything. Maile, if you want to email me go ahead and I'll tell you. Dani, you never log on anymore so I guess that doesn't matter. Anyone else, LET ME KNOW WHO YOU ARE!!! I have a guestbook. It's gathering cobwebs as we speak. AAAARRRRGGGHHH!!!!

Oh, and to top it all off, I got an email from somebody I did NOT expect to ever talk to again, who on Friday night (when this whole thing went from sucky and frustrating to the worst thing that has ever happened in my life, and this is coming from somebody who not so many years ago lost her mother) got this feeling like she should come over here and comfort me. And there is no possible way she could know any of this. We have no common aquaintences and have not spoken in nearly two years.

I am a counselor. I help to ground people who are flying off the handle. I'm about passing Jupiter right now. Scary, huh?

-CRbE