It hurts to be here. My mind plays fortune teller. Predicting all future tragedies. Mourning all possible losses. Seeing myself gone. My little one alone. It's as if a bully lives in my head. Taunting my happiness. Pushing it down, As it desperately tries to stand. I'm confused. And I've been waiting. Have I always felt this way? Have I crossed a line? Should I be worried? A silent intruder. Stealthily hiding in my head. Waiting for its turn. To make a move.