Bright Blonde Futility.

Firstly, what a fucking loser. I cannot imagine how embarrassing it must be to have old headmasters and teachers remember you as a relentless liar, even in your former years. Nor can I imagine the shame I would house if I constantly misquoted the classics despite harping on about having read them all. Secondly, and

The Golden Generation 2.0

‘a semifinal and a final ain’t bad’ – yes it is, if you’re a world cup winning team. England, decidedly, are not. For the 2021 Euros I created a family pool, we all chucked a tenner into the pot then each picked 2 teams out of the hat and they would be our teams for

Prizefighter

Still tired. Still trying. I would just as soon believe something is in retrograde if it would give me the peace of knowing these feelings will shift soon. The stars will re-align and all at once I will be okay. The first issue is don’t pay much attention to stars. The second is even if

Requiem for shadows.

I’m burnt out. 28 and on the verge of joining core training in psychiatry. I’m exhausted and struggling to care about anything. It feels as though I lost the capacity to care to give a shit slowly and then all at once. Wandering through my days dissociated from everything and I can’t find an anchor

Hope for the future

Happy. In response the prompt my Love suggested when I asked for a topic to write on – I hope to be happy in the future. This is not to say I’m not happy now, I am. However, I’m acutely aware of the conditions within which my happiness can exist; it is born from feeling

Coffee.

I write about coffee because it’s easy and maybe it’s what I need to start writing again. I can scribble down quaint lines about how great coffee mirrors great conversation or great sex in our wish to revel in it forever. I could rattle on about how Starbies and Costa taste the same – burnt

The Grand Delusion

I concede, of late, I’ve been drowning. Fighting ceaselessly against reckless tides of despair ravaging the optimism I’ve often found to hug my bones. I cannot speak on where the darkness stems or why its ugly head has reared during times demanding strength and composure. I am altogether exhausted of constantly moving forward and grateful

Like peace, death and grief arrive in waves.

I arrived in a restorative capacity. Or at least it’s how I told myself to behave before I slung a stethoscope around my neck before I left the house. Autopilot before I started the car, ‘just pull them through the day’ spun around my head until we parked up outside the old Georgian home. There

Bloody Indians

When they speak of my people, We are: “curry munchers”, “ragheads”, “terrorists”, “FOBs” We own the corner shops We drive taxis but I was born with too much stardust in my veins to fit into your stereotypes I am more than mangoes More than sweet dripping from the prison of your teeth and the sweat

4am

On my worst nights anxiety strikes me awake like a bitch learning how to bark commands at 4am. It’s not in your head. It’s here now. I’m here now. awaken, in agony. but awaken, you will.