Posted in Poetry


Waiting for it to ripen, I spent days watching it, waiting for the right time
To cut into it,
To tear into it,
To tell it how much I wanted it;
To feel its juices running through my teeth as they clench through the yellow flesh;
I must be careful of the hard middle,
To not break the knife as it slices through.
But I am disappointed.
It is overripe and I have left it too long.
I’ve missed the mark.

Posted in Blog

Post-holiday Blues

There are times when you want people to fuck off and leave you alone, and then there are times when you actually want people to take the time out to give a shit.

My mother sent me a birthday card, regardless of my asking her not to contact me because of the stress it causes me. The stress of receiving the card and deciding what to do with it caused the most intense seizure I’ve had in a while and I’ve just spent the whole of my Saturday (a sunny one, I hasten to add) in bed with a post-seizure migraine.

The mother you wish would leave you alone and stop fucking you up more that she has for the past thirty years.

My housemate’s girlfriend thinks that I’m a bitch (her boyfriend actually told me this), due to the way I handled things post-breakup with the ex.

These are the kinds of people you want to fuck off and leave you alone.

The Bends -alt cover art.png


Then there are the people who you want to give a shit.

It was my birthday two weeks ago, and my housemates made no effort for it, even though I had gone to the effort to do something for their birthdays earlier in the year.

The friends who either didn’t bother to tell you that they weren’t even coming to your birthday party, or waited for you to remember to ask, only to be told that they had made other plans.

There are the friends who you only have contact with when you contact them first – who know that you’ve been having a shit time and could do with a text every now and then. This includes the ex boyfriend.

These are the kinds of people you actually want to give a shit.


So these are the things that have been consuming my mind space since I returned from Budapest. Having promised myself while away, that upon my return I would no longer give a shit about others and focus on myself, and ONLY myself, my resolve has weakened. In my moments of emo-ness, I wonder if I was built for sadness only: why can’t I stop crying? Why can’t I stop freaking out? Why can’t I be happy for longer than a few hours? In a way, I was built for sadness: I’m a fucked up product of my fucked up parents. Thoughts like these make me wonder why such people would be so cruel to have children of their own in the first place?

Am I Really Sinking This Low

God knows I won’t.