Enigmaria: A Stranger, a Lover, a Question

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These people. What am I supposed to do? Do I tell them this story and expect myself to feel good about it? Can they actually help me? Ugh, not a chance. They’re just a bunch of strangers who happen to benefit from this so-called support group. Some even only come for the free donuts and wifi. Quite useless, if I am being honest. I remember the last time I asked a person for her opinion on this matter. A friend whom I trust. A friend who’s now 360 miles away. I’ve been wanting to call her. Ask her for an opinion. Guess what? Somehow I have not done it. Instead, I am stuck in this place, sitting in a circle among 12 strangers, holding my cup of coffee, about to share them a story. Hey, at least I’ve got myself an audience. So here I am, with a story. A question, actually. An enigma to my very existence.