Coming Home After Some Years

Some days, 24 hours is too much to stay put in, so I take the day hour by hour, moment by moment. I break the task, the challenge, the fear into small, bite-size pieces. I can handle a piece of fear, depression, anger, pain, sadness, loneliness, illness. I actually put my hands up to my face, one next to each eye, like blinders on a horse. Every time I see a children holding hands with their parents, or just plainly sitting together with their parents, I look away. It’s not that I hate seeing pretty lovely things like that. But because it reminds me of a question nobody can answer…”Where’s mine?”

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