An act of proffession

I soon realised if I was going to survive school, I had to bury my emotions for the six hours a day I was there. It was harder than I thought at first, as I struggled to suppress and hold back my tears. My mummy was still gone, and she would be for-ever. However after months of practising I became a professional. Although I'd cry as much as my body would let me as soon as I got home, I managed to hide it more often than not at school. I was still all alone. I'd wake up every morning and have to fight a dreaded sickness I'd become far too accustomed to... And then when the bell rings at Three O'clock at the end of the school day, the sickness would return.

I had no home. I had no place I could go to where I could feel happy or even show my sadness. I was overcome with the grief of my mother, as well as the pain caused by the only people I had left. I couldn't confront my dad about how I felt, because he'd simply say I should think about his feelings, that I didn't have it so bad. When he told me this, I'd felt guilty automatically because he was right. I wasn't the only one affected by Mum's death, and I'd never felt so selfish.
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