The Questions Trapped in My Coffee Cup

The therapist said I’d die if I kept swallowing questions. She was half-right.

I started collecting unanswered questions at 12.

Not the mundane ones like "Why do stars die?"

But the heavy ones that rust:

"Why did Mom’s laughter fade after the divorce?"

"Why does my cat stare at the wall where Dad’s portrait used to hang?"

I stored them in jam jars, labeled each with a year.

By 30, my shelves were a cemetery of "whys."

Then, yesterday, the cat knocked over the 2017 jar.

As I swept shards and dust, I found it—

A tiny slip inside, written in my teenage handwriting:

"Stop asking. Start burying."

Now, I sell question-jars on Etsy.

They’re a hit with philosophers 💔 and broken hearts 🫙🔥.

P.S. What’s your unasked question? Drop it in the comments—I’ll put it in jar #2024.

#QuestionJarTherapy #EtsyBusinessHacks #ProfitFromPain