What am I made of? I wonder with lots of high breathing of guilt. Guilt of mistakes. Mistakes that keeps me here. In this hidden world of worries and eternal grief.
I’m looking for my lost dream. When my child will grow up and move on, will I be looking back and thinking I did nothing these 23 years?
I do not remember what my dream was when I was younger. When I went to school? I wanted to be famous, good at what I did. I wanted to make my parents proud. But what was my passion? What did I want to do?