Youngest

I still visualise myself at the end receiving the awards I prayed for, along the years we’ve lowered our own pride knowing there are millions fighting for the same spot. In the meantime mamma would you tell your grey hair to slow down a little bit, your last boy is still trying to find ways to put food inside the fridge, the GPS might be a flirt but mamma you’ll wake up to a well prepared meal instead of waking to your youngest begging for money trying to support his goals.

Over the years I fought my own anxiety, the voices of him raising his voice at you haunted me throughout my entire life. The words were cement to my own pain but nobody knew how much I broke when it was too much to cope. I failed going through the story, whilst you were the only hand you ever asked for, I never heard your cries but believe you me I know you do, but it’s all in the past now.

I’ve been trying to be positive knowing and believing that mental illness is in fact an issue we live with.