It felt heavy and hard. Suffocating.

It pressed down hard on me, not allowing me to escape. I was its unwilling prisoner. I had fought so long and hard to avoid it. But it had finally caught up to me. It clung to me hard not wanting to let me go.

How had I let it get to this? How had I become so weak?

One minute I was walking down the street and the next thing I knew I was caught in its web. No escape.

It had struck with such force that I was now spellbound. My limbs under its control, my mind no longer my own.

It felt strange, foreign. I didn’t feel comfortable. I wanted it to stop. I had never felt this way before. I thought I had, once before. Way back in the day, before the once upon a time.

But it was different then, it wasn’t the same as this. This was indescribable. Unique. Strange.

Why wouldn’t it stop. Why wouldn’t it leave me alone?

Why me? I didn’t want this, never asked for it.

I was happy just getting by. I was happy by myself. Happy lost in my own world. I never asked for anyone else. Never needed anyone else.

This felt wrong. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t myself anymore.

I wanted it to go. To leave me alone. Go back to the way it was. The way it was before this.

Before love came along and claimed me as it’s own.



Eyes heavy. Soul heavy. Body heavy. Joy gone.

Love lived here once upon a time, but it’s long since gone. Cobwebs dot the corners of a once happy home.

I clench and unclench my fist as I lay flat out on my bed. Spots of sunlight peak through holes in the curtain.

I want to get up but I can’t. I’m so weary. I’m weak. I feel heavy. Squashed.

I’m forgotten here. Here I forget.

A smile appears on my face and disappears soon after. My heart beats a steady pace.

I’m at peace. I could be happy. I’m ready to move on. But how can I move on? Life is a rollercoaster and mine is the coaster in the wild, the one that doesn’t stop even when the leaver is pulled. My coaster keeps on going until is crashes into the other coasters and makes a bloody mess.

I am a mess.

I need to get up. But I don’t want to.

I need to get up, but I can’t.

Get. Up.


Summer was well and truly over. The trees shed their last leaves as if fallen tears.

I pulled my coat around me, trying to get as much heat and comfort into my body as possible.

Winter was my favourite season, until it came and then I hated it. I hated the rain, the coldness, the unpredictability of it all.

I wanted nothing more than to be warm and toasty and snuggled up under my 15 tog duvet.

Damn Sandra for getting me out on a Monday night. Monday nights were for mourning the weekend, not for actually doing things.

Regret began to flood out of me as soon as I had agreed. Why oh why had I agreed?

I pushed open the door to the pub and rubbed my hands together. Scanning the room for her.

Her bountiful locks of brown and black, were the first things to greet me, before she looked up and drew me in with her kilowatt smile.

I loved her really, no matter how many times she annoyed me. I really did love her.

She beckoned me to sit down next to her and handed me a glass filled to the brim with cider. She knew me too well. Come rain, come shine, nothing made me feel better than a good old glass of cider.

I placed the glass to my lips and allowed the appley goodness to slide down my throat.

This was pure and utter heaven.

A tall woman with bright blonde hair, climbed the steps to and announced the start of the mixer.

As the first potential bachelor of the night made his way towards me. I rolled my eyes to the sky and shakes an imaginary fist.


The gum had gotten hard, but I continued to bite down on it.

I was going to stay here all night. I had staying power. This was nothing. I would stand here all fucking week if I had too.

Nothing was gonna stop me.

Not sleep, not lack of food, not even the need to go to the toilet. I was a warrior, a champ of all champions. There was no way I was moving, no way at all.

I had never really had much. I worked hard for everything I owned like most people. I deserved this. I deserved to be here.

I wasn’t giving up now, I had worked way to hard to get here and a little belly rumble was not going to stop me, no siree-Bob!

Determination was my middle name.

The sun began to peek through the dark sky, as night slowly turned into day. The sound of yawns echoed around me.

I had done it, I had survived the first night. I had proven myself. I felt fulfilled and accomplished. They were sure to accept me now.


The truth would come out. I could bet on it. The truth always found a way of coming out. It might not be today, tomorrow or even the next day; but trust me and I said it right here, the truth would come out.

I bent down to tie up my laces. I hated these trainers, no matter what I did they always managed to come undone. It was like someone had put a hex on me. A hex of uncontrollable laces. I don’t know why I still wore them. Force of habit I guess.

I took my phone out of my pocket and checked the time yet again. It was the fourth time in just under a minute. I hated waiting. I was a stickler for time. If I made the effort to make it somewhere on time, why couldn’t other people? I just couldn’t understand it.

I was getting frustrated. We only had one shot to get this right and time was getting out from underneath us. If he didn’t get here soon, we would run out of it completely.

I sighed and took my phone out again. My cheeks reddened as anger coursed through each and every pore. Why had he even volunteered if he couldn’t do one simple thing?

My eyes rolled in the direction of the sun and I leaned on the nearby wall for support. Who knew how long I was going to have to wait.

As soon as my back made contact with the wall, his sloping frame came in to view.

It’s done he muttered as he slowly walked past. I gave him a curt nod and pulled down my balaclava.

It was go time. Time for the wheels to start turning.

The truth would be out in no time at all.


I was too nice of a person. That’s what it was. The nice side of the coin. The good cop. The road walked over more.

Why did people always walk all over me? Did I have push over tattooed on my forehead? Was I just an easier target? Did others thrive on making themselves feel better by making me feel worse?

I was in a state of pure and utter confusion.

Confusion as to why, someone would do this to another person.

Why would you do it?

I mean you really had to hate someone so strongly and think that their life was oh so meaningless that you could or even would do that.

I felt betrayed, a part of me was taken away.

Trust had always been a fragile passenger, but not it was well and truly broken.

I stood there as the rain poured down on me. I didn’t care that I was soaked, I didn’t care that all my makeup had washed away and my hair was a limp lifeless blob.

All I cared about, was that my life had been shattered, twisted, snapped in two pieces that would never glue back together.

Steam began to rise as the cold droplets battered against me. Yet still I would not move. My eyes matched the sky as the tears continued to pour.

And I continued to stand there.


The first flakes of snow began to fall. People rushed outside, not with excitement. But with fear.

It was the middle of the summer. Yesterday, bikini season was at a high, now it was sub zero. The weather reports hadn’t mentioned anything about this.

The end of the worlders were out in force; the whole country was in a state of panic.

By the time I opened my eyes the panic had died down and there was a silent lull.

At first I didn’t feel like anything was wrong. I went about the morning as usual. There was nothing to indicate that something was wrong. I lived by myself. I didn’t listen to the radio and I despised the news. I was in a bubble. It wasn’t until I opened the curtains to let in some natural sunlight that I questioned that something wasn’t right.

My hand froze at the window.

There was snow? How could there be snow? It was summer right? Or was it?

I began to get scared that I had been in a long coma and that I had woken up months after I had fallen asleep. But how could that be? I would’ve died surely how would I have gotten any nutrition?

Unanswered questions ran through my mind like a whirlwind.

Why was there snow? I searched around for my phone. Google would tell me what was going on.

But where the hell was it?

I started to retrace my steps, I couldn’t remember seeing it at all this morning. In fact I’m sure I hadn’t seen it since last night.

I ran over to my bedroom and frantically searched for it at no avail.

A thought popped into my head.

It had a really unhealthy habit of deciding to fall behind the back of my bed, every now and then.

I pulled my bed back in a frenzy, covers, mattress, bed frame.

My hand reached around blindly, fingertips grazing items that shouldn’t have been there. I really needed to clean behind here more often.

My hand finally located the phone and I clutched it to my body in triumph. Little clusters of dust decorated the screen.

I pressed the home button but nothing happened. It was dead. Typical.

What was going on? I plugged my phone into the socket and nothing happened. No electricity. This was getting even more scary.

I opened my door and ran into the corridor. There were no lights. It was eerily quiet. I knocked on my next door neighbours door. Nothing. I knocked on every door on the floor and nothing.

I was panicking, what was going on? Was this a prank? Was I being punk’d?

This was the end of the world, and I had missed it.

I sunk to the floor. I would die here all alone. I sat there waiting for the inevitable to happen. This really was the end.

I sat there contemplating my slow lonely death for what felt like hours (But was really a total of 20 minutes), when a figure stood in front of me. Clad in layers and layers of clothes. He held his hand out to me.

“Welcome to the new world,” he said with a smile.


Empty takeaway boxes littered both my internal and external.

How had allowed it to get so bad?

One minute I was doing 20 reps at the gym past midnight, next I was sat at home straining my arm just to get to the chocolate box that had fallen underneath the bed.

I had hit rock bottom. Healthy was no longer in my radar. I felt like shit, so what else could I do except eat my feelings away? It made me feel good, well at least when the food was going down my throat. Not so much afterwards.

Afterwards, I felt like shit!

I felt like I was the biggest loser. Why did I keep doing this? It’s not like I didn’t know it was bad; it’s not like I didn’t cringe every time I caught my reflection in the mirror.

I was disgusted with who I had become. Just getting out of bed was becoming a stressful situation.

I needed to make a change and make a change soon. But it was so hard. It was so damn hard.

Tears began to bubble at the corner of my eyes. I didn’t want to be this way anymore. I wanted to start taking care of myself. Be better. But I didn’t know where to begin. I needed help. I wanted help. I wanted to change myself for the better.

I lay there for a while, absorbed in my own self-pity and then I got up out of my bed and began to pick up the takeaway containers, the shame ran through me as I placed them in the wastebasket.

I could do this, I said to myself. I could change.


I stuck my middle finger up at the departing bus. The dickhead had seen me I knew it. There was no way that he could’ve missed me. I was wearing my usual uniform of bright lime green. Totally unmissable.

I was in no fucking mood to be messed with tonight. No fucking mood at all. My stomach was screaming for food and my feet felt like a sledgehammer had attacked the soles. I was in no fucking mood!

I screamed at the top of my lungs and stamped my feet. Big mistake. The pain that ripped through them as contact was made with concrete floor was indescribable.

Why did shitty things keep happening to me!

I was pissed, I was angry, I was every synonym of vexed that there was.

I shook my fists up to the sky and muttered a curse on the driver that had left me standing there in the cold darkness. I hoped his dinner, that he was rushing home to, was cold and shit. I hoped he chocked on a bit as it went down, but more so irritation than fatally killing him. I hoped that he spilt his drink down himself and tripped over the dog’s tail. I wished everything bad on him.

Why should he not be made to suffer the same way that he had made me? Why should he not feel just an ounce of what he had forced me to feel, when he continued to drive on and not stop for me and forced me to have to wait a whole sixteen minutes for another bus?

Yeah he should suffer too.


My eyes were heavy and I began to drift off into a pizza induced coma. Nick had just stepped out to get us some ice cream. The fancy kind this was a celebration after all.

The credits began to roll and my eyes fluttered to a close.

I woke up to the vibrations from my phone. I groggily rolled over to put it on ‘do not disturb’, when I saw 30 missed calls. It was past 1am. Where was Nick?

I pressed my thumb to the home button and unlocked my phone. They were all from Dan? Why was he calling me after midnight? Why so many calls? Where was Nick?

A sick feeling ran through me and I quickly snapped awake.

I rang Nick’s number, no answer.

Where was he? He had only stepped out for ice cream. That was hours ago. Fear began to rock me. I called Dan back. Voicemail.

What was going on.

I began to pace up and down, as I continuously called Nick and Dan, getting voicemail each time.

I placed my phone down carefully on the kitchen counter and stared at it intensely, willing something to happen.

I must’ve sat there for almost 40 minutes before the name Dan flashed up on the screen.

I don’t even remember picking it up, but the next thing I knew I was on the floor. Tears overtaking me.

Dan was coming to get me.

I prayed I had time to say goodbye, even though I didn’t want to.

Dan said that there was nothing they could do. The damage to his body was too severe, there was no hope for survival.

Please let me have enough time to say goodbye.

Anger overtook denial and I threw my phone at the wall. I watched as the glass screen shattered on impact.

Why did we even need ice cream? I hated ice cream. I only liked the fancy stuff.

It was a cause for celebration he had said. We have to round the night off with ice cream. I’ll be 20 mins tops.