Enigmaria

These people. What am I supposed to do? Do I tell them this story and expect myself to feel good about it? Can they actually help me? Ugh, not a chance. They’re just a bunch of strangers who happen to benefit from this so-called support group. Some even only come for the free donuts and wifi.

Quite useless, if I am being honest.

I remember the last time I asked a person for her opinion on this matter. A friend whom I trust. A friend who’s now 360 miles away. I’ve been wanting to call her. Ask her for an opinion.

Guess what? Somehow I have not done it.

Instead, I am stuck in this place, sitting in a circle among 12 strangers, holding my cup of coffee, about to share them a story.

“Hey, at least I’ve got myself an audience.”

So here I am, with a story. A question, actually.

An enigma to my very existence.