3,560 days. Nine years, eight months, and twenty-eight days. That’s how long I had with my mother.
I overthink things far too much and am often paranoid. I analyze conversations, trying to find some deeper meaning behind words when there is none. I assume that if someone doesn't reply immedeately, I've said something wrong or they simply hate me now, and then I hate myself for thinking that because I know it’s not true and there's no logical basis behind it.
"Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but to Your name be the glory." -Psalm 113:9
I breathed in, held it, and breathed out. Then sobbed uncontrollably again, which made me feel like I had lost a battle. I couldn’t even perform the necessary task to keep me alive. I couldn't breathe.