I tried to leave the home of my Mommy, but I couldn't. Mommy's car, the sweetest Snowflake, worked, but I still couldn't leave the house. So Mommy, sweetheart that she is, didn't say a word against my anxiety and sadness. She doesn't believe in therapy, but she said that a friend gave her a Tickle Me Freud doll and she would let me talk to him. I must say it did NOT work. I hate therapy! It's not how I roll and my happy expression is only stoicism disguised as recovery. I shall progress as I progress. Tonight I watched a documentary on Miles Davis because I love M. Davis -- he said if he had one hour left to live, he would strangle a white man, very very very slowly. I know this feeling! Not that I would hurt any of my readers; I would not. I love my friends. I have no biological family. I'm the lone saddest ranger. Nobody has a Tonto. I said Mommy was unstable; perhaps I am as well. We shall we. More, as the AA crowd says, will be revealed.