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March 16, 2007
I know thereís something wrong. I know thereís nothing I can do about it. I canít stay in the house another minute. I wish there was somewhere to run to, instead of somewhere to run from. I am on auto-pilot as I walk up and down the hilly streets, oblivious. I look up and realize that my instincts have brought me to the Bay, a place which always calms me. I sit on the stone steps overlooking the cold, sandy beach and watch the waves roll in, roll out, taking my worries with them. But they always come back.