Thank god for moms

I sit here and wonder why I'm here. Not purpose. Just an answer. I see people dying, crying, laughing, and living. I wonder if I'm part of a problem or part of a solution.

I'm living, I think. But I see sadness around me. I can't fix it. I'm not sure I want to. The feeling pulls me under like a drowning person.

I'm having fun, I think. But I see others having fun and it looks nothing like mine. And I wonder when did I stop wanting to do those little things. The ones where we would go for a walk with no destination.

There was freedom in that life.

I'm free, I think. But I look at all the work I have to do and wonder if it matters. Others get their work done and still seem free.

I'm richer for it, I think. But I look at my bank account and it doesn't make me laugh or smile. It lacks the memories I yearn.

I'm tired, I think. But I take a long nap and I still feel the same.

This hallowness that I try to avoid appears on my wife's face when she smiles.

I'm a disappointment I think. But mom calls and tells me I'm smart and awesome.

Thank god for moms.