loss

You carry on as though nothing is wrong in your world, you drop the children to school and you all chat banally about what presents you got for Christmas and what you bought in the January Sales, don’t you know I am dying inside. The children run around the playground delighted to see each other again after the Christmas break and I want to curl up and hide, don’t you know I am hurting inside. The cars jostle for parking spaces on the high street and the delivery lorries double park, more fodder for the consumers.  Don’t they know the last thing I want is any more stuff, I am small more »