I walk into a room where I don't know anyone and no one knows me. I'm invisible or that's what I thought. There are kids around me and the therapist whose the spitting image of my late grandmother. I could hear her talk to me. "Hope, Hope, baby talk to me. I am here." The one thing that my grandmother always said. I was in her arms on her death bed, praying that she would recover and be able to live with me. She died while in an embrace with me. I loved her so much. The therapist only makes everything worse. I don't like the attention. I'd rather be at home crying my eyes out. Someone tapped my shoulder and I was directed back. "Hope, what's one thing you feel the most?"