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)