You know you’re being ignored. Not intentionally of course. But you can tell. It’s the repeated questions, day after day, on the same topic. The question you answered a week ago. The question you answered again today. Sometimes you acknowledge it. Say that you’ve told them this before. But most of the time you don’t bother. Because what’s the point?



I told her to wait before telling everybody. Knew it would be too raw right now. And that makes things hard. These things happen though. And I know it’s not what you want. But it’ll happen I’m sure.

But you can’t take comfort in that. Because you’re not sure. So how can they be?


Is there really any point at all though? To anything? Because everything carries on as if nothing has changed. But everything has changed. You have. And you can’t go back. It’s there. Indelible. Obvious. And you can’t hide it.

on hold

You’ve spent the last year imagining what things might be like. What might happen this time next year, next week, next month? And you held onto those dreams. Fragile as they were. And you knew they were fragile. But you still didn’t expect them to shatter so easily, so quickly.


You ask yourself how. How again? You read the statistics. Comforted yourself with them. But then you became a statistic. And you want to shout about it. The privileged few. You’re a part of them now. And you so desperately wish you weren’t.