question what I was doing with my life. Lord knows I had tried leaving many times but always went back. Mum and dad and my friends had grown tired of my constant revelations of pain and then hearing their various lectures of ‘I deserve better’, ‘why am I staying in this volatile relationship?’ etc. Their various concerns or lectures as I called them never went very far as it entered one ear and went out of the other. Despite my various promises to leave… I never did. I’d half−heartedly pack a bag to leave, then unpack it again thinking I deserved to stay where I had made my ‘home’. The reality was it wasn’t a home; it was a prison that I had made for myself. A prison I would have to leave at some point; but I just wasn’t sure how.
I reflected a lot after