The effects of not sleeping have set in. Here I am, days and days later, and it just seems endless. I haven’t written, I haven’t taken any pictures, and school is suffering. Why do I still feel greatful? I have journals, and journals I’ve written in the past 15 years, and I’ve found myself in tears; I am wash and stained with the salt from my own tears. I sit and read and remember what happened. Sleep doesnt come easy anymore, I am constantly aware of my own existance, at the same time I feel burdened by it. But still greatful. HHmmm. still greatful, doens’t seem logical with the circumstances, and like you maybe, I wonder what I’m greatful for. I have lost everything; from my daughter to my marriage, my home, and sometimes I feel like I haven’t obtained my sanity; what am I greatful for? With everything I have lost, many things that can and will never be able re-gained, I have held on to my faith. I am drowning and I am clenched to my faith for the sake of living. I am greatful for that.