My Mother Was My First Heartbreak

The first time someone told me they wanted to die, it was my mother.

We were in a car park. I remember the light on the bonnet.

Everything looked normal, which felt like a mistake.

I thought that if I stayed still, the moment might not attach itself to me.

It did.

After that, I started noticing what people said when they thought no one was listening.

Not the big ones. The small ones. The things said too quickly to take back.

That was the first time I understood that words don’t just describe a life. They decide what is allowed to exist inside it.