The single mum.

Published July 29, 2012 by joannabolouri

Is this it?

This can’t be it.

But what if it is?

These words rattle around in my head. My stomach twists and the corners of my mouth turn downwards.

I try to be grateful for what I have, oh god I do, but inside I’m a selfish girl really. I want more.

More for me.

More for us.

She deserves more.

My daughter looks happy.  She’s beautiful. I look and her while I think these thoughts and feel a sense of guilt that I’ve dragged her into this life, before I even knew what this life was really about.  I want her to have everything. But her room is too small. Our house is too small. My bank balance is too small.

In the evenings I write. I don’t want to do anything else; I don’t know how to do anything else.  When I was younger I could have been anything I wanted to be and I chose nothing. Now I’ve made my choice and now no-one is listening.

“Who knows where you’ll be this time next year!” – that’s what mum said last year.  And I’m still in exactly the same place, silently screaming at night for the chance to become someone.  Something.   Anything but this.

I tell myself I must be brave. A valiant girl. But I’m tired. And I’m lonely.

I step back from myself and look at this scared woman I don’t recognise anymore.  I feel crumpled. The bohemian, book loving girl is quickly disappearing and I’m angry with her for not being stronger. She’s not as smart as she thought she was.

This can’t be it.

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