I am finding comfort in the sadness that has suffused my days. It brings back a feeling with which I am all too familiar. There is something warm and safe about sadness for me. I suppose it all goes back to my early days, when sadness seemed the normal state of things. In all the major events of my life--my father leaving, my mother's illness, her subsequent death, my isolation and loneliness in Chicago, the deaths of my Tuna and Pomona, deaths of dear friends, and now the latest episode--I feel like this is one emotion which I understand fundamentally and so it does not scare nor overwhelm me. But it does make me wish to crawl into bed and sleep endlessly. It makes me fear interaction with others. What would I say, since my voice is now just weak croak, and I don't think that I could force a smile.