quot;No one understands me!”

    t of me, and as unlikely as it may seem, trut. Sometimes Im so deeply buried under self-reproac I long for a  to  again. If only I ook my feelings seriously. Alas, I  yet found t person, so t go on.

    I kno Peter, arent you, Kit? Its true, Peter loves me, not as a girlfriend, but as a friend. ion gro some mysterious force is  kno is.

    Sometimes I terrible longing for ed. But ts not true, because if Im unable to go to er is kind and good, and yet I cant deny t ed me in many  care for able conversations and various t nature. Still, Im firmly convinced t ick to our agreement never to quarrel. Peter is peace-loving, tolerant and extremely easygoing. s me say a lot of to   from ermined effort to remove ts from  antly being accused of knoo kno not in practice) t in time, even t uncommunicative types will long as muco confide in.

    Peter and I  our contemplative years in ten discuss ture, t and t, but as Ive already told you, I miss t I kno exists!

    Is it because I  been outdoors for so long t Ive become so smitten ure? I remember a time  ivated me. t during tecost ance, ruggled to keep my eyes open until eleven-ty so I could get a good look at too muc risk opening a ime, several monto be upstairs one nig go back doil it o be closed again. t  time in a year and a  Id seen t face-to-face. After t evening my longing to see it again er t-infested  doairs all by myself and looked out tce office. Many people ture is beautifu