Today was awful.
It started with a jar. A jar I keep filled with £20 notes for a camera, and my travelling fund. It had £540 in it when I last left for Spain a few weeks ago. I haven't touched it since. Last night I counted it again and found there was nearly £200 missing. That is a very big difference to mis-count.
I know my mother wouldn't touch it. I know Sonny wouldn't either. Dylan and Bruna are the addicts and they've stolen from mum and myself before.
I messaged my mother about it before I went to sleep. She saw what I'd written and didn't reply. This morning on the way to work she didn't talk about it either.
Nothing all day. Incredible flouts of anxiety and sorrow within me, I realise once more I have no control over my home life or anything around it.
I don't mind floating on the breeze but this isn't floating. This is being trapped.
I get one message mid-day. Mother telling me I shouldn't leave my jar in sight anyway (victim blaming).
I never got picked up.
She forgot me.
I walked for miles in the dark.