My old kit bag.

I carry around all of the emotions all of the time. 

I choose to wear my happy feelings. 

I dance and skip and sing. I wear a smile on my face and wrinkles by my eyes. My feet are bouncy and my arms are open. 

These are the feelings I have that I want people to see, the ones I don’t mind being judged on.

 They are true and real and honest.
But they are not all I have, not all I carry around with me. 

You see, I have this bag. It is packed full of other emotions. Ones I have but don’t want anyone to see. 

Troubles. Worries. Sadness. Anger. Bitterness. Confusion. Hate.

These are also true and real and honest. 

They are with me everywhere I go. 

Sometimes a bead of sadness creeps out of my bag and makes my eyes sting, I rarely let it stay long enough for it to slide down my cheek before I pack it away again. In my bag. 

I am aware of my bag all of the time. I think I need to open it up more often, but I don’t really have a place I feel safe enough to. 

Apart from here. This is a safe place. I can be honest here. 

If I was being honest, I would admit that I feel sad most of the time- I just try not to show it. 

I miss my Dad. 

I miss him. 

I miss him so much. 

Life is different.

I’m not sure I like it.

It’s really hard to just carry on like nothing’s happened. 

Something has happened.

Life hasn’t stopped, life doesn’t stop. It just keeps on going. 

But something big and massive has happened.

It’s changed me.

Most things are different now. 


Pack it up. Fold it away. Zip it up.

In my bag.

And Smile,




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