A soft touch on your skin when you’re upset.
A comforting body when you need someone to hold.
A loving person in times you feel lonely.
Most important someone who loves you for you, and is proud of your existence.

It’s hard to explain why I miss something that was never there. It’s even harder to imagine how it would feel, have you not experienced it yourself.

It baffles me that this is something I could not experience myself. I envy everyone who did.
Maybe I would be more human, instead I’m full of hatred.

Maybe I would love myself instead of pretending to be this character.

I’m tired of being who I’m not, just to show people I’m not depressed. As if I don’t cry myself to sleep every night hoping that one day I do feel this kind of love.

Mom, you broke me in so many different ways that it’s not even possible to be whole again. Ever.