The cheers continued. It seemed that everyone was having fun except for me.

I pulled my covers up over my ears to try and drown our the noise, but it was no use. I could still hear everything.

I got up out of bed a trudged out to the kitchen.

The light blinded me as I opened the fridge.

I hated staying in on a Friday night, but then I when I was out I wanted nothing more than to go back home when I was out.

I was never satisfied.

I picked up the mini quiche that had gone off 10 days ago and a half drunk bottle of bubbly and walked back to bed.

This was my kind of fun.



Flub. Flubber dub dub. I stare hard at the figure in front of me.

I fight the tears that threaten to fall. There is a tightness in my stomach. I feel sick.

How had it gotten to this point?

I hated trying on clothes. Any thoughts I had about me having a sliver of attractiveness, was dashed out the window every time I stepped into one of those badly lightened cubicles of horror.

I had been doing so well. Eating better. Well the cheeky pizza, burger, packet of crisps and car of chocolate here and there, but why couldn’t I, thin people ate that shit too it wasn’t fair.

I had even started running and the breathlessness had stopped.

I felt good. Well that was until now.

Begrudgingly, I take off the dress and let it fall to the floor.

The tears begin to fall uncontrollably and I sink to the floor.

The flabby figure continues to stare back at me.

I want nothing more than to punch her, and keep punching until the fat fell off.

I hated her.

I hated that I had become her.


Wet and soggy. I felt gross. Like fucking shit.

My back was completely soaked.

I put my headphones in my ears and slowly opened the front door with my key, making sure not to let my keys jingle too much.

Another sharp kick, hit me in my ovaries; my cramps were on fire today. I was not in the mood for any kind of shit, especially not from him.

I hated everything about him. His face, his voice, his presence. That little smirk he made when he thought he had won.

Don’t let him get to you, they would tell me. He’s not worth it.

Of course I knew he wasn’t fucking worth it. It was all good and well putting your two cents together when you were on the outside. But this was my life, my everyday existence.

I couldn’t get away from it. His condensation, his fucking smarmy ways. I was the fucking obedient nodding dog, who kept my lips shut and agreed to everything he said.

How had he survived for so long? Weakness, roared hotly inside of my head, she was weak.

She made me sick. She was everything I didn’t want to be.

A reoccurring fear kept visiting me. What if her and I, were one in the same? What if I made the same mistakes that she had? That when I finally found someone, I too would stumble and fall, and accept every lie, every misstep, due to the fear of being alone.

My chest felt tight.

I closed the door and took my key out of the lock. I turned up the music and turned right back around.


Dry face. Dry lips. Dry hands. Dry feet.

Every inch of me was dry. My skin was screaming for some form of moisturiser but there was none around.

It was the most torturous feeling, walking around with dry skin. I wasn’t able to just hop out of the shower and go about with my day, so why did I think it was a good idea to shower here?

I mean who doesn’t have moisturiser in their house? That’s actually a sacrilege. It should be a sin not to have a least one tube of body cream in your house.

I felt like crying, real tears were threatening to fall.

I could feel the tightness from all around. It was the worst feeling ever, I felt like I was on fire.

My thoughts turned to the tube that I had placed on my dresser, the night before. It was way to big to fit in my bag, I thought at the time, but I should’ve found a way to make it work.

But living in the land of should’ve wasn’t going to make any difference now; there was no moisturiser in the here and now and there was no way to change that fact.

Begrudgingly, I began to dress and left the bathroom. I gave Godfred a nod goodbye as I stepped back into the room and he muttered a sleep laced bye.

We would be having words later.

Body cream would have to be provided next time if he was to ever expect a sleep over again.

As I made my way to the door, a bottle of Palmer’s Cocoa Butter, wedged in between the side of the bed, caught my eye.

Shaking my head I realised we must’ve knocked it off the dresser when we got in.

It was far too late to apply it now. I would just have to grin and bare it until I got home.


You tried to break me.

Tried to knock me over when my defences were down.

Well I’m here to tell you, you will never win this war.

Blood runs deeper than water.

If it’s a war you want, then it’s a war you will get.

I’m not like your usual opponents. I’m sneaky. My attacks are never big. I attack small and when you will least expect it, one minute your sitting pretty and then BAM! You ain’t sitting pretty no more.

So come on if you think you’re hard enough.

If you think you are really ready to dance out this battle.

Because there can only be one winner and my friend.

I never lose.


They say bad things happen in threes.

Well more than three bad things had happened in the past few hours and I was starting to think that I was cursed.

Bad things were happening to me and I had gotten to the stage where I didn’t believe in luck anymore.

I had woken up this morning and bumped my head and then I had fallen asleep at work due to said bump on the head and gotten a warning. My phone had then fallen down and the screen shattered, my lunch had exploded in the microwave. And that was just one fifth of the things that had happened.

All I wanted to do was lay down and wish this whole day away. And hope that my good fortune would return.


His fists tightened as he moved towards her.

He didn’t want to do this. He never did.

Life was hard. All he wanted to do was sit down relax and take a breather. But she wouldn’t let him would she? She was always on at him. Nag, nag fucking nag.

Constantly pushing his buttons. It’s like she did it on purpose. Pushing him to the edge until he exploded.

She didn’t understand him. Didn’t understand the pressure that he was under. Why couldn’t she just be understanding? Why couldn’t she see that he was hurting?

She cowered near the wall. Tears streaming down her face. She was shaking.

He hated doing this, he didn’t want to. It wasn’t him. It was all her. She made him see red. If she didn’t go on at him so much, then he wouldn’t. He would stop. He wouldn’t have too.

His knuckles stung. The skin at the corner of his hand had ripped as it made contact with bone.

His breathing calmed and he sat down.

“You know I love you,” he spoke again, his tone softer now.


They say we’ve all got a little bit of psychopath in us.

Sometimes I daydream about your death.

I’ve seen you fall down the stairs and crack your skull multiple times.

I’ve seen you crushed by a bus, have a meteor fall onto you, seen the volts that tore through your body when you were electrocuted.

I’ve seen you die in so many ways. Each time giving me that little bit more joy than the last.

So every time you speak to me disrespectfully, every time you think that you hold some power over me; in my head you are slowly dying.

Your eyes look up to me pleading for help. But I just stand there, I stand there are your eyes grow larger and glaze over. I hear that last raspy pop of breathe and then it’s all over.

You’re gone.

I’ve killed you so many times in my head, but never by my own hand. I’ve killed you over and over, again and again. I’ve watched you suffer and feel weak and defenceless.

So when you talk to me the way you do, who really holds the power?


My pulse continued to race.

Of course the day that I left my bag at home was the day that the inspectors got on the train.

Droplets of sweat began to form on my forehead.

My heart was hammering against my chest and I was struggling to breathe.

Yup a panic attack was imminent.

I didn’t do things like this. My levels of anxiety were extreme.

But everyone made fun of me when ever I bought a ticket. Get on the train without a ticket if there are no barriers they’d say, what’s the point no one is even around.

Well there were plenty of people around now.

And I was going to get caught. My head felt clammy and I was struggling to breathe in oxygen.

“Can I see your ticket please,” said a voice.

I look up with tear filled eyes and then I everything went dark.


My head was pounding, but I continued to climb.

Remind me to never say yes again to something I have no interest in, I muttered to myself. No matter how interesting it might make me seem.

Henry was already a spec in the distance.

My ankle buckled under my wedged trainer for the 100th time. I knew I should’ve listened to Henry when he told me that they were the wrong type of footwear; but if I was going to do something I knew I was going to hate, I had to at least do it looking good.

I sat down in protest, I was done.

Fuck this mountain and fuck Henry.

He must’ve know that I wasn’t interested in this shit, but he kept pushing.

He was officially cancelled.

I took off my shoes and began to walk back down.