To my Mother

I have died at the end of last year. Fully died.
I lost my soul in the meanders of disdain and constant bullying. I lost my joy and my curiosity, I lost my taste and hunger of pleasure. Youth went dried like a fruit exposed to harsh weather before having a chance to grow.
I died.
Months have passed as friends hand fed me little pieces of happiness so I could wake up every day even if I had lost all taste to go on.
What restored some strength in me is my mother. She had welcomed me shattered and didn’t ask question. She let me sleep away my pain. She let me be numb so I could learn how to breathe again. She said she didn’t know who I was anymore, she said I was different. I was.
I am not fully back but I exist. Coming back to this side of the mirror was a test. I don’t hope, I don’t desire anymore. I still love. A spirit emotion in a dead body.
This is to say thank you to the woman who loves me no matter.
The machine runs and somewhere there is an echo of all the lust and joy life used to give me.