I just wanted someone to hold me while I cried. Then I realized all the love I could get came through the phone, so I cried again and again and again because I couldn't help it, because I couldn't correct the situation, because I couldn't help myself. I wanted a hand to hold and an arm to cradle my wretched head, but of course that didn't happen.

I wanted couzzie, the cousin I've always looked up to, to help me. I wanted Xue Wen, who has returned some measure of tenderness to me, to hold me. But they were on the other side of the island. I didn't know who else to call.

Junwei will blame me. Again. That's why I called him and told him how much I hated him for what he said last year after karate. He blamed me. Hon Ding is too callous to understand, so I didn't even try.

Then I realized how they could all be counted on less than one hand and I cried even more, and howling, and calling for a God who never gives a straight answer. It is ironic that I'm reading the book of Job now.

That was 30 minutes ago. The outer tears are sporadic but the quiet ones echo on and on in my cold and callous heart - broken.

Broken.