I ask myself question after question day after day.
What’s my worth? What’s my quality? What do people see in me? I’m I important to them? Is there value in my existence? Do they think about me? How do I breath? Is life more simple, than this? Will it ever be just happiness? What is love? Does the feeling of seeing someone and loving them wholeheartedly exist? Are changes easier the second time? When can I speak? Can I have my opinion without being wrong? Can someone touch me? Who else besides my son, can hug with and make it feel like they don’t want to let go of me? God are you still there? What is he thinking? What am I think? Will the loneliness ever subside? Is it worth all this trouble? Is he in love? Is he happy? Could it? Why not? Is it me? There has to be that thing about me, right? Am I a story book with the end torn out? How? Why? Where? Time? Will I? Will he?
The questions done stop. Ever.