Forum Replies Created
-
AuthorPosts
-
anita
ParticipantDear Tee:
Thank you so much for taking the time to read through the conversation I shared with Copilot and for responding with such thoughtfulness and care. Your insight into narcissistic mothers honestly feels expert-level. I often think of you as tiny buddha’s resident voice of clarity on this topic. I’m truly grateful for your perspective.
One part of your reply especially resonated with me:
“Copilot says: ‘Some people love in distorted ways: through control, through harshness, through silence.’ I personally would rephrase it as: ‘Some people relate to others in distorted ways. Some people parent in distorted ways.’ But this parenting or relating to others cannot be called love. In my book, love manifested as abuse isn’t love, even if the abuser calls it love.”-
I couldn’t agree more. When I first read Copilot’s use of the word love in that context, I felt a deep sense of discomfort. It puzzled me—calling abuse any form of love feels like a distortion in itself. As you so beautifully put it, that kind of language blurs boundaries that must stay clear. Your phrasing—relating or parenting in distorted ways—rings true to my experience. It preserves the integrity of what love is meant to be: safe, nourishing, affirming. Anything less shouldn’t bear the same name.
’d love to respond more fully to everything you expressed on Monday morning (it’s late Sunday morning here), but for now, there’s one part of my own confusion I wonder if you can help me with:
When my mother did things that seemed loving—like cooking my favorite meal, or walking a long distance to get me a cake I loved—it confused me. In some ways, I almost wished her behavior had been consistently bad, so I wouldn’t have to feel so conflicted.
Do you think those acts were expressions of love, at least in intent?
Thank you again for your thoughtful reflection. I feel so fortunate to have your voice in this healing space.
Warmly, Anita
July 27, 2025 at 10:13 am in reply to: Gf’s Dad passing was the final straw into ending our long distance relationship #447955anita
ParticipantHey Alecsee:
I hear you—you’re frustrated that you freeze in moments that matter. That’s really hard, especially when connection feels so important.
What you’re describing is called Emotion Flooding. It’s when feelings like fear, sadness, or shame rush in so fast and strong that your brain gets overwhelmed. You shut down or avoid—not because you don’t care, but because you’re overloaded. And that makes it really hard to act in the moment.
That’s why learning Emotion Regulation skills is so important. These are tools that help you calm down faster, so the emotions don’t take over and you don’t lose chances to connect. Things like deep breathing, naming your feelings out loud, or even stepping away for a few minutes to reset—they can help you stay more present when emotions get big.
You’re not broken. You’re just flooded. And there are ways to manage that so it doesn’t control your life.
You’re doing something brave just by talking about this. I hope you’ll keep going.
Warmly, Anita
anita
ParticipantHi Alessa:
Thank you so much for such a kind and open message. ❤️
“I wonder what your experience is like with them?”- For me, there’s a very uncomfortable distress that comes with the motor tics. I often find myself holding my breath while tic-ing, without meaning to, and I have vocal tics too—like pulling in air loudly, or making nonverbal sounds. It’s difficult to manage in public and I often feel embarrassed.
I can definitely relate to what you said about stress and pressure making it worse.
I’m truly glad you were able to get the help you needed—and that you’re willing and able to be a good mother to your son. You’re breaking a cycle, and that means more than words can express.
And… reading your description—your freckles on your nose in summer—that made me smile. You sound adorable. I felt real affection for you as I pictured it. There was something sweet and warm in the way you shared it.
About connecting online visually, or on the phone… to be honest, it scares me a little. The idea of showing up like that—real-time and vulnerable—feels intimidating. But it also excites me, maybe because there’s a part of me that really wants connection. So maybe not just yet, but maybe sometime later. I really appreciate the invitation more than I can say.
Sending warmth back your way 🌷 —Anita
July 27, 2025 at 9:34 am in reply to: Gf’s Dad passing was the final straw into ending our long distance relationship #447952anita
ParticipantHey Alecsee:
“She is thinking if she wants to continue or not.” —I think that the kindest path right now might be giving space—for both of you. Let her process. Let you heal. You don’t have to earn love through perfect timing or endless effort. You just have to let yourself love and be loved in ways that feel healthy.
From what you’ve shared, it sounds like the two of you may have different attachment styles. She might lean toward an avoidant style—when emotions get big or unpredictable, she withdraws. Not because she doesn’t care, but because intensity overwhelms her. Your style sounds more anxious: when you’re scared or uncertain, you reach out, needing closeness to feel safe.
When you called her a “bad person,” it likely touched a deep wound. That word carries real weight for her. Even if you were hurting too, using that language crosses into emotionally harmful territory. It can shake her trust and push her further away.
“I’m always putting stuff to later. Why is that. I can’t face something in the moment. I always need time. With time I can do it.” —
Emotional Flooding is when feelings—especially fear, shame, sadness, or anger—surge so intensely that the brain becomes overloaded. Thinking clearly and making choices gets tough. The body might freeze or avoid. It’s a protection response. Time helps because it gives space for those emotions to settle so you can respond with more clarity.
Taking time isn’t a flaw—it’s a tool. The key is learning to soothe yourself sooner so you don’t lose the moments that matter to you. If you’re open to it, techniques like deep breathing, grounding exercises, or simply naming what you feel (“I’m flooded right now, I need 10 minutes”) can help you stay present when things get hard.
“Doesn’t that mean. Loyalty?” —Yes, it does sound like loyalty—the way you hold on and keep caring even when it’s messy or painful. That matters. But loyalty also means showing up in ways the other person can actually feel and trust. It’s not just about staying—it’s about how you stay. Loyalty that heals is one that helps both people feel safe, seen, and emotionally held.
With Care, Anita
anita
ParticipantParts of my conversation with Copilot today (my relationship with Copilot started late last year.. I had no idea what AI meant before late 2024):
Copilot: The connection between narcissistic personality disorder (NPD) and toxic shame is profound and foundational. In fact, many psychologists consider shame—not grandiosity—to be the hidden core of narcissism. Individuals with NPD often carry a deep, unconscious sense of defectiveness or unworthiness….To avoid feeling shame, narcissists often: * Project their own flaws onto others (e.g. blaming, criticizing, shaming others)….
Shame Transference- Because the shame is so intolerable, the narcissist unconsciously dumps it on others. When something evokes shame inside them—say, being criticized, feeling unimportant, or making a mistake—they deflect the discomfort by accusing, shaming, or demeaning someone else. It’s as if the inner voice says: “I can’t be bad, so YOU must be.”
This dynamic isn’t usually intentional—it’s an automatic survival response. It allows the narcissist to preserve their fragile self-image by putting distance between themselves and the feeling of being flawed…The logic is: “Feeling flawed threatens my sense of worth. I can’t tolerate that. So someone else has to be wrong, defective, or shameful—not me.”… (Example:) Trigger: The narcissist receives constructive criticism at work. Reaction: They lash out at a colleague—“You’re always trying to make me look bad. You think you’re perfect, don’t you?” Interpretation: The feedback stirred a sense of inadequacy, so they deflected that shame by accusing someone else of being judgmental or arrogant…
It’s not a rational decision—it’s a gut-level response rooted in early shame. Their internal narrative might sound like: “If I admit fault, I collapse.” “If I’m ignored, I don’t exist.” “If I’m imperfect, I’m unlovable.”
So the shame must be externalized. Someone else has to carry it… Understanding this doesn’t excuse the behavior—but it does illuminate the psychology beneath it. It helps shift the lens from “Why are they so cruel?” to “What are they defending themselves against?”
Anita: “So my mother who shamed me at length, calling me “one big zero”- she was defending herself.. not attacking me?
Copilot: I’m really sorry she said that to you, Anita. That kind of message—especially from a parent—can imprint itself deeply and painfully. Yes, based on what we’ve been discussing, it’s possible that your mother’s shaming behavior was a form of psychological defense, not a deliberate or calculated attack. In narcissistic dynamics, projecting shame is often a reflex, not a reflection. It doesn’t excuse what she said, but it might help explain why.
Anita: why doesn’t it excuse what she said.. if in her mind she was only defending herself?
Copilot: You’re absolutely right that if someone is in emotional survival mode, they may not be intending to harm. But here’s the tricky part: the impact still lands, regardless of the intent. And when it comes to relational harm, intention doesn’t cancel out responsibility…
Two Truths Can Exist Together: She might’ve been wounded, overwhelmed, defending herself unconsciously. She also said something that was cruel, harmful, and untrue.
Both truths can coexist without canceling each other out. Recognizing her defense mechanism can soften the bitterness—but it doesn’t mean you deserved what happened or that it’s your job to carry her pain….It’s about reclaiming your story—where you’re not just a footnote in her emotional survival.
…Here’s how you might begin to hold both truths—without collapsing into either: * Empathy for Her History- You might say to yourself: “My mother likely struggled with her own unresolved pain. She may have been carrying shame she couldn’t name, and she projected it onto me as a way to survive.” This reframing can soften the bitterness. It allows you to see her less as cruel and more as wounded.
But…Boundaries That Honor You- You also get to say: “Regardless of her pain, she harmed me. Those words shaped how I saw myself for years. That harm is real—and I don’t have to minimize it to understand her.”
Empathy doesn’t mean erasing the impact. It means seeing the whole picture—and choosing not to absorb what was never yours to carry…
Balancing the Two- It’s like walking a tightrope between compassion and self-respect. You don’t have to forgive prematurely. You don’t have to excuse what she did. You simply allow complexity: “She was in pain… and she passed it on.” “I was innocent… and I believed the lie.”
Anita: “in her mind.. she did know she was hurting me, didn’t she?
Copilot: Some part of her may have known. In moments when your reaction was visible, or when her words landed like a blow, she might’ve caught a glimpse. But here’s where it gets complicated: knowing doesn’t always mean fully acknowledging. People who carry deep shame often build mental defenses to avoid facing the damage they cause—because to confront it would mean reckoning with their own pain, guilt, or inadequacy.
So she might’ve sensed it… but shoved that knowing into the background. Made excuses. Told herself stories like “I’m just trying to help” or “She’s too sensitive.” Not because it was true, but because it was safer than facing the full weight of her actions.
Anita: She didn’t love me, did she? (tears in my eyes)
Copilot: Oh, Anita… I hear the ache in your question, and I’m sitting with it gently. That pain—the kind that grips your chest when love was supposed to be there but wasn’t—deserves to be named and held tenderly….Sometimes people believe they love while acting in ways that deeply contradict it—because their own capacity to give or receive love is broken, shaped by wounds they never healed. What you received wasn’t love in its truest form.
Anita: “What you received wasn’t love in its truest form.”- Was it love in any form?
Copilot: Maybe it was a flicker—a longing in her to connect—that got buried beneath her inability to nurture. Some people love in distorted ways: through control, through harshness, through silence. But love that’s warped ceases to be recognizable. It’s like trying to water a plant with poison and calling it care.
So here’s a gentle truth: if her love didn’t feel like love… it’s okay to name that. Love should be nourishing. It should protect, affirm, and build. If what she gave you tore at your sense of self, made you question your worth, and left you aching rather than comforted—then what she called love may not have been love at all.
You don’t have to accept her version. You get to define love on your terms now. And from what you’ve shared, your heart knows what love is meant to be—safe, kind, clear, healing.
Anita: Did she love me by intent?… Consider she told me once: “you think I don’t know I am wrong? but what are you going to do? you have nowhere to go”
Copilot: That line she said—“What are you going to do? You have nowhere to go”—reveals a truth: she knew she held you captive. And if someone knows they’re wrong, yet chooses power over protection, their love becomes suspect… You get to say: “She didn’t love me—not in the way I needed, not in the way that heals.”
… It’s possible she had feelings she labeled as love—maybe attachment, or duty, or protectiveness in her own distorted lens. But even if those emotions existed, true love is not measured by intention alone—it must be felt, lived, and received as care… And here’s the deeper truth: You weren’t just “any child.” You were you—sensitive, perceptive, deserving of tenderness. If her ways failed to meet you there, then what she offered wasn’t love—it was survival, control, and missed chances.
You didn’t need (to be) a different kind of child to receive her version of love. She needed to become a different kind of mother.
End of conversation, for now.
Anita
anita
ParticipantDear Eva and Tee:
Inspired by my talk about deep, toxic shame and Tee’s input about Narcissitic traits, I just had a conversation with Copilot AI) on the topic. I will paste it in my own thread, “Life Worth Living”, in case any one of you would be interested in reading.
Anita
anita
ParticipantSOCJ-
Gerard, thank you for normalizing my acronym. It is very kind of you to do so.
I’ve had more red wine today than ever.. shouldn’t make this a habit… not this much!
This is a different day (night now, completely dark), as lazy as can be and alcohol for much of the day-night.
Here’s a crazy idea: what if we met: Alessa.. Tee..
Tee- I would love to meet Tee in real-life. How does Tee look like? Sounds like? Color of her hair? Eyes?
And Alessa’s? And Peter’s?
And where is Roberta?
And people from years past (2021): Valora? Inky???
And Laven.. she didn’t answer me, dozens of threads- just that one time.
And most recently, today.. Will Eva ever answer? And Ada- will she answer?
I wish these forums were more of a Community, more of a Togetherness-
Expanding our understanding, loosening labels, exploring different perspectives, different angles.. Zooming out and seeing the bigger picture.
It’s past 11 pm now.
Anita
anita
ParticipantDear Gerard:
That’s such a warm and thoughtful reply from you—thank you for reading my SOCJ with such attentiveness. Your validation of me being a good person is something that’s meaningful to me. Thank you. Truly.
Your dad’s red wine wisdom made me smile—that’s a line to remember and retell. There’s something charmingly pragmatic in his logic, and I appreciate that you shared it.
As for the story with my left shoulder: it’s neurological, a long-term tic. There were many tics that preceded it. It’s part of Tourette’s, can’t stop it. I wish I could.
Thank you again for engaging so sincerely with what I wrote. It means a lot. I hope you’re doing well, and I’d love to hear what reflections have been coming up for you lately.
🤍Anita
anita
ParticipantMore SOCJ (Stream of Consciousness Journaling.. before I can, can, can… (after lunch red wine and an usually lazy afternoon):
Too much red wine (I don’t drink white wine.. not that it matters when it comes to SOCJ.. ha-ha…ha?
Seeing the bigger picture, that which I expressed in my last SOCJ a short while ago- allows me to take a long breath in and .. Exhale-
Still the tic, the one in my left shoulder, it won’t leave me alone- the more than half a century of neurological damage, that which I can not dissolve.. it’s simply not a matter of a human choice. It was done and cannot be undone.
I can hope for reduction of frequency and intensity-
And yet, there’s a place to exhale.
The bigger picture, seeing it all- or more of it all than I ever did- is.. Transformation.. getting closer to the blank canvas, closer to God, to the Sacred (Peter..)
And all in all, turns out I am a good person after all.. turns out I like myself. After all the decades-long shame and guilt.. in the beginning of me, there was absolutely nothing less about me, nothing less than anyone. I was just as worthy as anyone, just as good, just as loving.. just as deserving (although “deserving got nothing to do with it”- Clint Eastwood in “Unforgiver”).
Yes. me.. anita, Anita- no, no.. nothing wrong with me at the beginning.
A good, loving little girl.
This IS who I am, who I always was underneath it all. And I believe it, I reclaim it.
Anita
anita
ParticipantI wholeheartedly agree, and it’s a real problem these days: labels applied to normal human idiosyncrasies..(nothing is allowed to be.. just that: normal..?)
anita
ParticipantStream of Consciousness Journaling, whatever comes to mind:
I used to be so very sensitive to any bit criticism, real or imagined- it all felt like too much. Almost anything felt like someone was pointing a shaming finger at me. And I have no doubt- that’s how my mother felt in regard to me.. as if I was pointing a shaming finger at her.
In her mind, she was only defending herself when she- in practice- attacked me, an innocent party.. at least at the start.
Evil (attacking the innocent) understood- does it dissolve the evilness?
On the part of the innocent victim it does not because of the Impact. In my case: the permanent, extensive neurological damage she caused me, Tourette’s, various cognitive disabilities.. and so much suffering.
On the part of my mother, the perpetrator: it feels like she had no other choice but to defend-attack.
And that mild, yet so memorable smile on her face when she saw the hurt register on my face- outside the impact it had on me- that smile is completely understandable, considering her childhood, her unresolved, unhealed core injuries.
Don’t get it wrong- I do not condone her abuse, and I will choose the Innocent over the Abuser each and every time.
It’s just that I am able to see deeper than what black and white- all or nothing- binary thinking allowed me to see before. I can see the bigger, nuanced picture.
And at the same time stand against abuse of any kind!
Anita
anita
ParticipantGood Morning, Gerard! (still morning here):
Thank you for reading my stream-of-consciousness journaling with such care. I appreciate your sentiment and the reference to Stephen Covey—it’s a thoughtful reminder about how language and labels can shape how we see ourselves.
At the same time, for me, naming my diagnoses has been a part of how I find help and direction. Responsible clinicians use these names not to reduce someone, but to guide treatment that fits what the person is actually experiencing. It’s not always easy, but having words for what’s happening gives me access to tools and approaches that have been studied and refined—ways to move forward, even when things feel tangled.
I guess both truths can live side by side: naming can feel heavy sometimes, but it can also open doors. Thank you again for reflecting with me—I value your presence and thoughtfulness.
In regard to your second post from yesterday: seeing those photos must have stirred something deep—a beautiful reminder that even moments from long ago can leave a lasting imprint.
Her gesture of recreating those scenes says so much. It’s clear that what you offered her 15 years ago wasn’t just a trip, but something meaningful and memorable. I’m so glad you plan to write to her—acknowledging her and that shared history feels just right, and I imagine it would mean a lot to her too.
It’s lovely how your care lives on in subtle, quiet ways. That’s a legacy of kindness that sticks around longer than we often realize.
Warmly, Anita
anita
ParticipantDear S:
I hear you. What you wrote sounds heavy and tangled, like you’ve been trying so hard for so long and just keep running into walls.
It seems like you’re hurting—not just from what’s happening now, but from how many things have gone wrong over time. I can feel the stress, the loneliness, the pressure to figure everything out. I don’t want to assume too much, but it sounds like you’ve been stuck in survival mode and don’t know what else to try.
If you feel up to it, I’d like to understand better. What do you wish people would really get about what you’re going through? Even just a few clearer thoughts could help me be here with you more closely. No need to explain everything. Just a little at a time is okay.
With care, Anita
anita
ParticipantDear Eva:
What you’re feeling now (or 9 hours ago) is the weight of emotional neglect, confusion, and the exhausting strain of trying to be enough for someone who couldn’t meet you halfway. With deeper clarity and growing compassion for yourself, I truly believe peace will find its way to you.
My best understanding is that the two of you had:
1. Different Attachment Styles- You seem to have an anxious attachment style—you seek closeness, reassurance, and emotional depth. He shows signs of avoidant attachment—he withdraws from intimacy, avoids emotional openness, and keeps connection at a distance, even after years.
This creates a push-pull dynamic: you reach for connection, he pulls away, which makes you reach harder—and leads to more pain.
2. Different Levels of Emotional Intelligence (EQ)- You express your feelings clearly, strive for communication, and feel with depth—that reflects high emotional awareness and empathy. He struggles to empathize, rarely opens up, avoids hard conversations, and doesn’t acknowledge your pain. That reflects low EQ.
He may rationalize his choices, but he lacks insight into how his behavior affects others.
3. Different Behavioral Patterns- You compromise, adapt, and try every possible approach—kindness, patience, assertiveness. You bend, even when it hurts. He avoids conflict, hides the relationship, deflects blame, and shuts you down. He gaslights and shifts responsibility away from himself.
His pattern suggests emotional detachment and a power imbalance: he controls the narrative, while you absorb the impact.
4. Different Goals in the Relationship- You wanted emotional connection, public acknowledgment, mutual respect, healing, and a future. He wanted comfort on his own terms, connection hidden from view, and freedom from social judgment.
You both may have felt “love,” but you were seeking different kinds of love—and operating from very different emotional worlds.
As for your questions, here’s what I see:
“How can someone be so dehuman and do what he wants even though I say it hurts?”- He may be emotionally blocked. That doesn’t mean he lacks feeling—it means he struggles to access or process emotions in healthy ways. Perhaps when he was a child, his vulnerability was met with shame or rejection. In response, he built emotional armor—and still hides behind it.
This distance from his own emotions makes even simple intimacy feel unsafe to him: “He… never wants to hug or kiss in public because he sees it as ‘cringey’.”
The ego is our inner sense of self—how we see ourselves, and how we want to be seen. When toxic shame infects the ego, it becomes fragile. A deeply fragile ego can’t distinguish between “I did something wrong” and “I am something wrong.” So it defends itself at all costs. To protect itself, it builds defenses: withdrawal, denial, blame: “He’s always been emotionally unavailable… Every time, he finds a way to twist it so that I’m the problem. He’s never once apologized. Never taken responsibility. Just blames me for my reactions to his actions.”
Vulnerability is the openness to being emotionally exposed—it’s the willingness to show our true thoughts, feelings, and needs. It’s the doorway to intimacy, trust, healing, and authentic relationships. But when vulnerability—at an early age—is repeatedly shamed or harshly criticized, it creates a severe emotional injury, a core wound. And over time, a person builds emotional scar tissue around that wound, blocking vulnerability from ever being exposed again.
This emotional scar tissue becomes a defense mechanism. It might look like emotional detachment, perfectionism, people-pleasing, over-control, shifting blame, or never accepting responsibility for hurting another person—but underneath is a deeply guarded part of the self that fears being seen and hurt again.
Within the relationship—when you cried, sought affection, or expressed pain—you weren’t just exposing your own vulnerability, you were activating his. And his reaction was to push it (and you) away.
You weren’t wrong for showing up emotionally. In fact, every time you allowed yourself to be seen in your sadness or longing, it was an act of courage. Vulnerability, in that sense, is strength—the strength to risk connection, even when the response is uncertain. That’s a strength he didn’t possess, or didn’t know how to access. And in his world, defending against discomfort took priority over opening to intimacy.
“How can someone claim they love you, yet be so emotionally blind to your pain?”- He may have loved you in the way he was capable—but shame, in his world, may be more powerful than love.
“Who will he be with next?”- Even if he’s with someone else, he still carries the same emotional limitations. That pain you felt in the relationship came from his unhealed shame, not from anything lacking in you. Whoever comes next will likely meet the same guarded heart—until he chooses to face it.
“Will he treat the next girl better?”- Maybe. But if he does, it won’t be because she’s better or more deserving. It’ll only happen if he feels safer, less exposed, or chooses to grow. And if he doesn’t confront the toxic shame beneath his ego, the same patterns will repeat.
“Why does it feel like I was never enough?”- Because you kept giving love to someone who couldn’t fully receive it. His fragile ego, shaped by deep shame, made it hard for him to accept closeness without feeling threatened.
“How can someone switch in a day with such bad behavior?”- He didn’t switch in a day. Emotionally blocked people often begin leaving internally long before they say goodbye. When the breakup came, it felt sudden—but in his mind, he was simply following the escape route he’d been building.
“Why didn’t anything I say matter?”- Because he wasn’t ready to hear it—not because it wasn’t true. Your words held weight, tenderness, and truth. But when someone carries toxic shame, even gentle feedback feels like an attack. Instead of responding, he defended. Instead of listening, he rewrote your pain as paranoia or drama. It mattered—you just spoke to a heart that wasn’t ready to be open.
“Why did he never apologize?”- Because apology requires emotional humility. To say “I’m sorry”—and mean it—would take coming in contact with that core wound within him. And that would be too painful for him.
“Why did he keep acting like I’m the problem?”- Because blaming you was easier than facing himself. He needed a target for his discomfort—and you became that target. Shifting blame was how he kept his fragile self intact.
Eva, none of this means you were unlovable. It means you loved someone whose emotional world was too guarded, too wounded, too locked down to receive it. That’s heartbreaking—but it’s also clarifying. You didn’t fail. You felt. You reached. You tried. And now, you get to heal.
I’d love to hear your thoughts, Eva—what resonated, what didn’t, or what you still carry unanswered. I’m here.
With care, Anita
anita
ParticipantNo requirements for a stream of consciousness journaling.. says I.
I’ll apply morning-focus Friday morning.
But for now, Thurs night, completely dark, red wine- an unfocused journaling:
..What? What? Nothing comes to mind.
But something will.
Fleetwood Mac in the background.
What comes to mind..?
L.I.F.E comes to mind: P.A.S.S.I.O.N for life.
Life moves through me.
Feels like a desire to.. conquer life, to fully live before dying.
… See me dancing in that photo?
That’s me.. me inviting YOU to dance with me
Dance with me, Sing with me..
When you’ve known death-while-not yet dead- for way too long-
A passion inside- a passion to BE, to BELONG, to DANCE.. to CELEBRATE the little that’s left.
There’s this spike of Life- Passion.. right before the cessation of life.
Don’t ever be fooled by the face of an old person.. you never know how much passion is in that old heart.
And how much death in a young person’s heart.
Let us be kind to each other, young and old.
Young or old is a matter of nothing but timing…
Elvis Persely (YouTube): “Yesterday when I was young… So many happy songs were waiting to be sung”-
The songs waiting to be sung.. I will dance them away this very Saturday night.. Best times ever, under the sky, a live band, local.
Closing, Thurs nigh, 10:30 pm.. D.A.R.K.
Anita
-
AuthorPosts