My son was a complete survivor. It was not that he needed me; I needed him.
It was not that he was rebellious, I was the one who had a serious problem. I was the one who was not adapting to that life, the one who probably never would. I was the one who felt that I was still bleeding from a wound that had no cure. It would take me a long time to get over all that, and I would need help, it no longer cost me to recognize it. At that moment it cost me nothing to realize that I did not want to be alone, but at the same time, I could not bear the presence of those people in whom I did not feel capable of trusting. It was so confusing.
I do not know why, I thought again of Johanna. Of how I would have liked to be able to speak to her.
She would have understood me. She had gone through almost
