Age five was when I found happiness in my heart. I named it Barbara and wouldn't share it with anyone. With such happiness, I ran around the house a lot, laughed, and smiled all the time. But whenever someone noticed my happiness, I quickly went to a neutral face. I didn't want anyone to steal Barbara from me, so I had to pretend I was neither happy nor sad. Within a year I was seeing a psychologist who thought I was afraid of people, but I corrected her and informed her of Barbara. I was asked to draw a picture of Barbara, but I couldn't because Barbara didn't have a face. I said Barbara was just an abstraction--I just gave it a name the way powerful hurricanes get names too.