I bought some roller-skates because I wanted them. When I was little I had a pair, I remember the feeling of riding them, happy, free, joyful. ‘Maybe I could feel that again?’ Was the longing question which led me to buy this pair. They’re new and colourful, nothing like the ones I remember having. I tried them out, it was trickier than I remember; I suppose being a lot taller and bigger makes it harder, but even shuffling and toppling down the hallway I could feel it, that excitement. My body remembers getting ready to feel free, ready to glide down the pavement imagining “this is what it would be like to fly”... Not a care in the world, my mind lost in that joy all the while I am gliding, completely distracted from all the things that troubled me…

And then I am reminded of all the things that used to trouble me. The things that happened to me. The things I would try to escape from. I am suddenly terrified and filthy. My childhood joy is only a sweet painted coating around a bitter, toxic truth. There’s no separating them, to dwell on the past, even the good bits, is to walk innocently into the maw of the terrors reside there.

I haven’t worn my roller-skates since then. Maybe one day I'll forget them or maybe even be strong enough to face them, but it's not today.