Voyager reached the edges of the solar system and I ran my duster along the edges of the skirting board. I asked you if you would mind if I killed myself and you said you’d understand, but it didn’t quite answer the question. I wondered what the highlight of tomorrow would be, and to the whooping delight of the cleaning staff, found it to be the intoxicating scent of the marker pens. I felt like you wanted a reason, but I wasn’t sure there was one. Things just were. Unchanged. Unchangeable. The pens smelled so much almost like liquorice that I could have drawn rapidly, ceaselessly, on my tongue.

You should talk to someone about it. I lay in bed, mostly paralysed, with your hand on my arm, too delicate and clammy to be real. I felt a single tear slip from my eye, navigating between the fine hairs on my cheek, before it came to rest in the creases of my mouth. I felt the salt harden before I had strength to taste it on my tongue. I couldn’t contact the authorities, there was something too cliché about lying in the dark, crying. It was 05:00 AM before I recognised sleep would not take hold again. Continue reading “Laziness”


‘Next please!’

I stood up, straightened my skirt like all common women, and made my way into the doctor’s room. The doctor cut straight to the chase.

‘There’s a new anti-depressant’, he said, purple teeth shining under the bright sterile lights, ‘it’s called Murdozadine and does all sorts of wondrous things’.

‘Sound a little… murderous’, I feebly commented.

‘Hmm yes, it does rather, doesn’t it? I hadn’t thought of that!’ He threw his head back and laughed, ‘Aha-ha-ha-ahahaha! Now, the thing you need to know about it is that it makes you feel like you’re on a beach- totally blissful, like you don’t have a care in the world’.

‘Sounds great!’

‘Yes, rather, but then there is the other thing about it as well’.

‘Which is?’ Continue reading “Murdozadine”

The Hospital

The door was locked and I’d had my nose pressed firmly against the window pane for approximately five minutes before realising that there was a sign on the other side. I read the words backwards through the glass; an experiment for the mentally distorted… the words told me to ring the bell, ring the bell and embrace melancholy. I wouldn’t keep her waiting.

The woman at the desk wore a yellow shirt and a happy smile, contrasting dangerously against the glum blue hue of the walls. I’d have torn out her throat, but blood doesn’t soak well into the leaves of potted plastic plants. Instead I took my seat and waited to be called. Continue reading “The Hospital”