I can never forget the days,
before 1am, caffeine-fuelled essays,
and gas and electricity bills,
and when I didn’t need any pills.
The time of holding mummy’s hand,
and jumping in muddy puddles,
and playing in the sea and sand,
and trying not to get in trouble.
When I didn’t need to worry about the cost of food,
or think about how I’d be perceived and viewed,
and if I would ever be loved,
and if I would ever be enough.
Where I would play with bubbles in the bath,
and the times of falling over and picking up scars,
the land of make-believe and fairies and princesses,
with glitter and wings and sparkly dresses.
Image courtesy of Annie Spratt