My mom called today. Asked me if I was eating well, if I was making friends. I lied. Said everything was great. There’s something about hearing her voice that makes me feel like a child again safe, protected.
But I can’t tell her how lost I feel here.
How every morning I wake up feeling like an actor in a life that doesn’t feel like mine. I can’t tell her I’m scared, because she’ll worry, and she has enough on her plate.
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