Taken...

After the burial of my uncle, things at home went from bad to worse, my mum already wasn't taking care of herself, I had to make sure she was taking her medication. She had to take it twice a day, but there times where she just didn't want it. She was in grief mode - I didn't know what to say to help her, I just knew time will heal her pain as well as mine.

But it was started to affect me bad, I couldn't consecrate at school, I started to get depressed, I didn't eat at times so I started to dramatically lose weight and I was sooo tired, taking care of mum was a full time job - I loved her don't get me wrong but I was angry.

Angry that life had taken my mum, taken my uncle who was the only one there for my mum, angry that I couldn't be like other kids - worrying about boyfriends and school work. But instead I was worried that mum didn't take her meds that if she didn't it may end up killing her, so when a school trip came round and mum said I must go for the week, after much persuading eventually I ended up going for the week, God knows I was going to regret it going, as I returned home - the flat was smashed up, there was broken glass every where and a knife laying in the middle of the front room floor, my heart somersaulted praying that life hadn't taken by mum for good...