Ways of finding cheer

in the stupid memories of anything ...
I'm very sad, yet images to cheer me enter my mind ...
There is a child's book I remember liking ... hidden somewhere here about Owl. He ran out of water for a special tea so he thought of sad thoughts to fill a kettle for his special brew. He thought of childish sorrows -- empty plate of cookies, kite with broken tail ... slowly the kettle filled. From his sorrow came goodness.

I express myself but never share. People around me know that I just don't open. I listen well and try to help others, but I don't open. Dealing with loss by yourself is difficult, but I manage ... it is not a smart course. I think some day I shall open, but I'm afraid the needles and pins inside me will fly out piercing and killing all. I'm a dangerous sort and loss is difficult. Pain isn't a problem. Of all emotions ... sadness is the hardest -- I do it alone.