Maybe if I’d been prettier. Maybe if I’d been smarter. Maybe if I’d been more mature, never showing that raw, childish side. Maybe if I’d asked for less than time — or maybe if I’d never asked at all. Maybe if I’d been of more value. Maybe if I’d had more friends. Maybe if I’d been less of a mother and more of just an unconcerned lover. Maybe if I’d never questioned your actions, and known you would leave if I ever did. Maybe if I never asked about your chats with other people online, about the girls who were “just friends” touching you. Maybe if I’d died earlier, or maybe if I was never born. Maybe if I never had to lie to my parents and sister. Maybe if I never happened. Maybe if I didn’t hold on to everything that’s gone. Maybe if I never expressed who I really am. Maybe if I never had expectations of love. Maybe if I gave my body earlier. Maybe if I trusted my instincts, instead of silencing them. Maybe if I gave myself less time, like I had any. I know I’m nev...