Oh Mum, what a mess I’ve made.
And I can’t even say it was a beautiful one this time.

I’ve been the king of mistakes before,
but I’ve always found a way to work them out,
to clean up after myself, piece by piece.
This time, I let it slip too far,
thought I could pull it back, thought I would.

I mean, I know I can—I’ve done it before,
and I’ll do it again.

But Mum, this time…I made a fucking mess.

I lost my job,
walked away from a man I poured everything into,
even when I was going through chemo,
when I had nothing left to give to myself.

Then someone took Dad.
Then someone took one of my best friends.
And the mess just kept getting worse, spilling over.

It was like tipping a bucket
just after you’ve cleaned the floors—
like sugar scattered on the counter, seeping into every crack.
No matter how hard I tried, it crept into every corner,
just beyond reach, slipping away.

It felt like standing on a platform,
watching a train pull away,
like saying goodbye to someone
not knowing it’s for the last time.

Like loving someone so deeply
but knowing it’s time to let them go.

It’s the same feeling I get,
every time I think I’ve let you down.

I made a terrible mess, Mum.
But I’m trying to find my way back,
even if it’s slow, even if it’s hard.