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Sometimes I don’t write because I don’t want to think about things. I want to bury my head in a big vat of tangled old salty net and leave it there. It seems like a safe place to submerge everything I don’t want to acknowledge. Except when I pull my head out, as I have to do eventually, it’s all still swimming there at the back of my mind. An unspoken black hole of…
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I have blanks. Some huge areas, that when I look back, there is nothing. Sometimes that frightens me. Was it the wine, or is it much worse, like the early onset of some memory disease. Some little prompt tells me it might be something else entirely. Whatever it is, it’s got me thinking about where I am standing. Every time I write, I tell a story, and in every story, I ask myself what is the…
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It was still the happiest day of my life. Despite the heat, the hangover and the endless questions. Despite the shoestring that I had self-imposed, and the rice in our bed. I write that, and then I ask myself, was it really? I don’t know. It’s like one of those trick candles, you blow it out to calls of “make a wish”, blink, make your wish, smile, in what you hope is not…
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Today has a colour, and it’s grey. I feel like a Sesame Street edition. “Today is brought to you by the number three and the letter X,” only far less exciting. But I’ve shown up. I show up every day, though some days feel more reluctant than others, lingering like a persistent mist on a sunny day. This is the least talked-about bit, the meh-ness of the customary. That flat place you land after going…
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It’s happened often over the last decade. Driving to work with tears running down my face. It isn’t conducive to a good morning in the office, especially if you haven’t put on the right mascara. By the time you arrive, there’s a dark, murky line making its slow way down your cheeks, leaving you resembling a flushed, maybe even sunburnt zebra. Combine that with broken parking barriers, spilt coffee, and the cancellation of the…
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In the hours between night and morning, even silence has a sound.
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In the hush of morning, before the day begins its noise, I sit in the quiet and remind myself: I am Here. Still moving. Still whole – almost.
