Along the line;

Somewhere along the line, I lost myself.  I lost the music, the art, the words – oh, the words!  I never would have thought.  Me.  No imagination.  No creativity.  No inspiration.

There must be something terribly wrong.  This is just not the way I am.  This is just not me.

My life has changed – I have changed.  What’s more, it’s not for the better.  Life, age, responsibility, money – the fighting, the loving, the fighting.  Oh, the fighting.

The hatred, the words, the hate – where does it come from?  What have I become?  Moreover, what has become of me?  With all I have been, where have I gone?

Who am I?

I am in need.

Let’s talk about pride for a minute —

My husband is a proud man.  He is Italian, and – as much as I hate sweeping generalizations – passion and pride are at the top of my list of characteristics of your average Italian (man).  While I do mean passion in the romantic or sexual sense, I also mean in all aspects of their lives.

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