I've been weepy lately. In meetings, on the phone, while thinking. It's almost uncontrollable, and I can't possibly attribute every eccentricity to hormones. I've been so quiet I feel like I could disappear. I've been hit with a sudden pang of compassion, nostagia and filial piety. I've resented the unfair circumstances facing people I love, and felt helplessly useless. I've been driven to tears by a desperate sense of frustration. I've recalled 15 year-old promises, and been compelled to meet them. I've played big sister to my big sister. I've had strange dreams, dreams I'd not been in. I've searched for old friends, and tried to make up for lost time. I've been eating breakfast, because a breakfast person is a functional person in the mornings. I've craved for natural light, because it's dark when I step out of the door. I've smiled about peculiar serendipity, and hoped for more to come my way. I've bought mauve lillies and flirted with the florist. I've been awed by Louise Rhodes at the Palace. I've renewed overdue friendships and received postcards.