Thursday 7 March 2013

Today I've laid on my friends sofa watching my children play. I've barely moved, barely spoke, barely bared any of my savaged insides. I've healed minutely, my wounds stitching back together,  my mind shredding a little more as the reality sinks that little bit deeper.

I will mend.  I will sip tea and cry. I will scream at the sky and think angry thoughts about strangers in the street. I will cuddle my boys and tell them off. I will clean and dust and vacuum.

But I don't think I'll be the same.

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