I want to continue to place my memories and experience in chronological order for myself because looking back is therapy...reading my own journey is therapeutic and mind blowing in a sense because I don't see myself as this person. I don't know what got me here to this point, but I'm here.
Looking at life, I see white and I see raising my son as an accomplishment
I see blurred events, I see myself crying while alone, remembering the happy in me
I see myself wrapped in sadness, with eyes closed thinking of the moment my son was born, because I named him Moses, I knew he loved me, and it was complete joy.
Being alone, feeling abandoned, feeling quiet and disjointed, feeling confused and trying to remain what I appear to be, strong.
Sadness, I hid it well.
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