Does love really exist? I’ve wondered this many times. When I’ve dated guys and felt nice around them. When I’m with my grandma. When I think of dad. But then this feeling of emptiness comes along, and i hated it. Is that what love’s supposed to be? Emptiness? Why? Does mom feel like that when she thinks of me -if she ever does-? I hope not. I want her to only see the small good things I’ve done. they’re not so many but they’re something. Right? giving up my freedom wasn’t nothing, Right? God! If I had a dying wish it would be to hear her say those three words that no one’s ever said to me and actually meant it: I love you. But how can i ask her to lie. I hate liars but for once in my life, I wouldn’t argue it it was coming from her.