I wish you were here, I think. I wish more than anything. I close my eyes, and wish and wish and wish so hard I think the wishing part of my mind might break.
Someone else is holding me up. I don’t have to hold myself up, for this moment. I don’t need my own inner strength, because someone else is being strong for me.
It is such a relief.
Our house looks dark, unloved and unhappy, in sharp contrast to the warm and cosy house I’ve just left. For the first time ever, I feel reluctant to come home.
I like the idea of making and owning something unique, something that no one else in the world will have. Like a story that no one else could write or a painting that no one else could paint.