I wanted one conversation that wasn’t practical

Dear Delyara, Not about school. Not about money. Not about who’s picking up who. Not about what needs ordering, fixing, remembering, or replying to. Just one conversation that reminded me there is still life somewhere underneath all the management. I didn’t get that tonight. Every sentence in this house seemed to have an action attached to it. By nine o’clock I realised I was not lonely because no one had spoken to me. I was lonely because everything spoken had required something from me in return. That is a very specific kind of tiredness. And a very adult one.