There's nothing like a bit of suffering to bring sharp focus to one's vision.

What constitutes suffering when you have money in the bank, a roof over your head, food in your house and no one is trying to kill you? I suppose for many people, just these would be treasure indeed. But as the saying goes, "Not everything that can be counted, counts." (This may be a truism but the makers of Prozac don't generally make sales in war-torn, empoverished countries now, do they!)

So what's making me so sad and so mad then?

When trust goes, what is left? Co-dependence?