“Are you ok, Noah?” My mom asks, eyeing me with curiosity.
Her voice takes me aback, but I continue eating my cereal while trying to discover what she means with that question.
“Yeah.” I reply nonchalantly without looking away from the bowl in front of me.
I’m freed from her loving gaze just a couple of seconds later. Maybe it's because of the bags under my eyes that she has asked. Fortunately, she tries to understand me and doesn’t feel like pushing more on the matter.
After all, I may never be ok. Every moment of my life is stuck in my brain. Each day of my 16 years can be easily displayed in my mind like an old recording. The bad part is that I can’t always control the moments I want to recall.
I could go from the first words my ears could hear…
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