More like me

In a few weeks I’ll be 20

I’ve been dreading it for years,

Pretending it was never going to happen.

I miss being 10

My days full of muddy knees

And petty arguments with my sister.

I miss not caring

But everyone caring for me,

Getting attention when I cried

And kisses on my wet cheeks.

Now I buy my own food

And do my own laundry.

My mum calls once a week

And I ask how things are at home

Without me there

But she doesn’t seem to mind

All of the empty space I left.

I miss my bed and my dogs

But this is what I’m supposed to be doing, right?

Be an adult and fend for myself?

When all I want is to soak up the last remmenants

Of my childhood

That will never be felt again.

I miss my mum and my dad and my sister

But they don’t really seem to miss me?

Christmas time tends to resurface the same type of melancholy that I feel every year since I was 14. I remember when I was 12 or 13 and the night before Christmas I listened to Sam Smith’s version of ‘Have yourself a merry little Christmas’ and cried myself to sleep. At the time I couldn’t understand why I felt so sad on Christmas Eve: the happiest night of the year.

But I think I was crying because the Christmas after that, the usual childish glee that comes with glittering lights and wrapping paper was gone forever. I wept in the bed that I will never sleep in again and hugged family that are no longer around. I miss waking up at 5am to my sister sneaking in my room to open our Christmas stockings hung on our door handles.

This year will be different but I want it to be a good different.

Merry Christmas xx