Please Tell Me I'm RIght

Am I Right…
So long… this question… asking myself…
Mom, am I right.
***
The world feels so heavy on my shoulders.
I don’t write like I used to. I don’t feel like I used to. I don’t cry like I used to.
Now, the question is, am I right?
Am I right for leaving, right for not feeling, right for not crying.
Well, it used to feel that it would be. But now that I’m here… without you, I…
***
I finally understand you. Understand why you did the things you did. Things that hurt you that hurt me for hurting us. Oh the love, the psychotic, the selfish love. Where the whole world could be wrong and we could be right. In our own little heart, our own little truth. Where we kept the innocent sides of ourselves safe from the soulless truth of the world.
Mom tell me…
Am I right. 
***
The things is, I don’t know anymore.
Answers litter my room like unread books, highlighting my unrealized dreams, mocking my broken soul.
Broken soul that quakes my coffee stained hands. Coffee stained hands that smell like my minimum wage uniform. Minimum wage uniform that I look at every day in the mirror. 

In the mirror I see a failure.

So many answers, but in the end all I see are my failures.
Now i got people that tell me I’m a good man.
I’m not a good man. I just don’t have any fight left. 
So tell me. You. Tell me.
Was I right? 
Right to leave, right in my reason to leave. 
My stomach says otherwise, my hunger says otherwise.
The hunger in my soul,
Corrupts everything in my life. Broken promises emerging from a shattered meaning.
Idolized strength in solitude, but alone I am helpless.
What a fool.