Sadness in Places that None Can See

WHEN I was younger, I would wonder why my mum didn't make me lunch like the mums of other kids would.

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And I used to wonder why my dad would be so upset when they talked. Later in life, I realised that my mum was sick. Terribly sick. There was no health challenge she hadn't faced.

Sometimes in school, I just keep thinking about what's happening at home. I return to find her in bed sleeping, and my little sister playing with her phone. I pick up the stuff, serve myself something to eat, get my sister ready for tuition, then drop her off.

It's become an exhausting cycle. By the time I'm done with all that, it's about 5:30 PM, or even later.

On good days, mum smiles, laughs and talks, which gives me hope. On bad days, she's withdrawn, barely talks, snaps at me, pops her pills and goes to bed. She's tried to heal her depression and her pill problems. She tried many times, over and over again but, I don't have any hope left. I see my dad come into the house. I see his worried face, and I worry I'm not doing enough. He goes in, cleans the kitchen, makes his tea and sits down after a long day.