An excerpt from my journal, written on one melancholy winter's night. "Sometimes the truth is glaringly clear. It cannot get clearer than this, for it comes to you in your precious solitary moments. The truth is that we have no one else but ourselves to depend on. The truth is harsh, but it’s the truth. There really isn't anyone else who can heal our souls. This knowledge goes against our inner most desires -the desire to have another person that can save us. The truth is that no one hears us, no one sees us. Maybe there are a few. But they are few and far between. All my life I’ve waited to be saved from my own agony. Over the years I’ve realised that there is no escape. We must live with our anguish and learn to transform it because that’s the only way. The longer we live without learning this, the longer it hurts. And I’m tired of hurting."