Ever since I was very little people have said that I make mountains out of molehills, as an adult one even told me that I made my own mountains, when I was little phrases such as these made no sense to me, but as I grew older I came to learn that it meant that in addition to problems that life had in store for me that I too added to my struggles. When things are unknown to me my mind goes to what I call the Bad Place. I catastrophize the worst outcomes there, never are the outcomes of a positive conclusion, the more time given between outcomes the worse things become in my mind. Over the years I have made friends only to have them vanish without a word or trace after years, they just stopped being in contact with me, I still have no idea why. This does not stop me from remembering them which in turn causes me to type off missives sent out to the four winds wishing them well and hoping that they will soon be in touch, sometimes I fill them in on my life, but mostly send them wishes of good will and hopes that they reply. Years go by, some even decades, and still I tear up when I think of them and then I write. Some people say, when will I learn, but this hope hiding beneath the tears is what sustains me, even if in my darkest hours in quiet night it is long forgotten.