But this is my world. Those were the cards I had been dealt. I have been living without my Mum for 14 months now. I have been doing okay.
I would like a conversation, where we talk about life and living and what it all means. Maybe after, my brain will turn into liquid and drip into dreams.
Today, I bleed. In the space of a year, everything has changed.
It makes me feel bad that my family have had to look after me so much. I hate being a burden, boring and a frustration. I hate that they had to wake up in the night to help me with medicines or when I was throwing up.
Eventually the things I could control I over-controlled and micro-managed every step of the way.
She was my hero, and my best friend. She would always look after me, help me and guide me, and it strikes me that twelve, thirteen years later, I don’t have that.
I remember a page where I just scribbled “WHY”. One word which took up the whole page. I scratched it in so much the letters were thick and black but each time I drove my pen into the paper I felt a release.