17/07/2026
The moment you sit down, some voice in your head starts listing what’s still undone.
You know the one.
There’s a kind of tired sleep doesn’t touch. Being needed all day does it. You’re the one who remembers the dentist at half past two, packs the swimming bag before anyone’s asked, holds your face together at the door so nobody worries.
By the time you’re on your own, you’ve forgotten what you sound like when nobody wants anything off you.
Somewhere in among the holding everyone, a woman can lose the thread of herself. Not all at once. It’s the quiet handing-over of every hour to somebody else.
And then, once in a while, you land somewhere that asks nothing of you. No performing. Nobody needing you to prove you’re coping the way you always do. You just sit there. Maybe you don’t even talk.
Your hands don’t know what to do at first. They keep reaching for a job.
When the stillness feels strange, that’s not laziness. It’s just how long it’s been, I think.
You don’t have to earn sitting down. You were a person before you were useful to anyone, weren’t you.
When did you last have an hour where nobody needed a thing?
