How do I hate thee, let me count the ways, she thinks to herself. Hate, just such a strong word to use for another, but sometimes it's ok, especially when the person is yourself. Have you just sat and stared at yourself in the mirror, when Wanda does it, she is analyzing and dissecting the imperfections, staring into the same eyes every day for a 1/3 of a century, always seeing the same person, but not. Trying to figure out where she went and when she left. The fun girl, the fearless girl occasionally stopped by to say hi, but she always left in a rush running to help someone else, never taking a moment for her. She never really stopped to worry about love. It's always out there, and she had enough for the world, but now as age begins to creep up on her, she worries about love all the time. Will she find love, will it love her back, do they love her? will they love her if she does A, B, and C? How does one carry on the in the world?