I receive thousands of letters from people begging for help with their primal doubts; women with wounded hearts who hate their bodies; young girls with scars on their faces from accidents; people with a wandering eye or some imperfection that takes center stage in their own dialogue of personal tragedy that never seems to end. These letters weigh so heavily upon my heart. Sometimes I will go and look at the photos of the person who has sent me a message. I never see what they see. I gravitate toward the beauty in life. I don't see the scar. The scar is lost in the landscape of the total person; the smile, the laughter, the twinkling in an eye — the landscape of a person is so large that minor details are lost as the human being shines through. But, this is how I see the world; this is how I see people. Primal doubts are often based on a small reality that cannot be denied and is then amplified. You cannot argue with someone's loneliness. You cannot argue with someone's desperation when it is based on years of rejection. These are real problems. I want to reach out to them and show them what I see. But that's the problem; they don't see what I see.