Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I had a choice to go with my mom.
I wonder why I wasn’t good enough for her to want me. I still think about it after all these years. It makes me question if that’s the reason I try so hard to do things that people will be proud of me for. I don’t think I am an insecure person, but I do believe something somewhere is broken inside me.
What is it like? To have a functional family?
I think about that sometimes. Maybe more than I should.