Sweetheart

Most days, I love him.

We row, of course. Sometimes, I don’t have any idea what he wants from me. We scream at each other. Then we cry. Hug and make up.

Still, we don’t understand each other.

Some days are worse. I look at him, and I don’t know why I’m here. I think about going away. About getting on a plane, and not looking back. But I feel guilty even imagining it.

We curl up quietly together and watch TV.

I worry about the things I miss out on. Everyone else my age is single, going out every night and having fun. I don’t miss going out. But I miss not having any reason to stay at home.

I didn’t think being a mum would be like this.

 

By Molly Duffield

(“If you don’t turn your life into a story, you just become a part of someone else’s story.”  07/02/17)

Advertisements

drop some thoughts

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s