I am a writer. I imagine in a parallel universe I might be a caricaturist or a botanist or somewhere asleep on the moon. But here I am a writer, armed with an astrophysics degree, a Paperchase pen and a half empty box of biscuits
10 Reasons to Stay Alive
Somebody kills themselves every 40 seconds. That’s 700,000 deaths by suicide every year. It can happen to any human at any age throughout any context of their lives. They might be orphaned or they might be a Nobel Prize winner — or they might be both. Maybe they founded a waffle house or performed on Broadway or even dated Cillian Murphy and still, they can want to end their life.
3 Ways to Have a “Shit This Was Good” Day
About a month ago, one of my favourite writers commented on a piece of mine that I'd written about harvesting creativity. To me, that’s the equivalent of Daniel Radcliffe applauding an avid Harry Potter fan for Sharpie-ing a lightning bolt onto his forehead. I was sweating as I opened the notification:
The Diamond Eyes of Utopia
Dystopia is dark. Misguided. Too far gone. I thought I could help him, but you can’t help a wasteland. He let down his walls for me but not as an entrance, there was no drawbridge lowered to the ground to allow me inside, no fanfare and celebratory greeting. No. He blew himself up for me. Shattered his mind. Now he’s crumbling, falling apart - he’s a wreck. There’s no life inside him, not anymore. I wonder if that’s my fault.
24 Grown-Up Things to Do Before You Grow Up
I’m 25 tomorrow. May 30th 2021, marking the title sequence to my quarter life crisis. And man, it’s going to be epic. I’m 24 for one more sunrise, sunset combo, and that’s it. I have one final chance of being the same age as there are hours in a day, and days, much like this chapter of my life, come to an end. So I’ve decided to compile a list of 24 things that I can do today, right now and for the rest of my forever, to ensure that it’s not just each chapter of my life that’s a good one — but each passing page.
Start Small, Stay Small, if You Want to Make it Big
“Fuck it, I’m doing it.” “Doing what?” His pal asked him. There was a pause, slick with electric anticipation as Gaudí’s grin swamped his entire face. Then the realisation struck. “Oh no.”
The Lonely Guide to Being Alone: 6 Steps and a Sit Down
My ex-boyfriend’s sister is getting married. She’s two years younger than I am, the sweetest girl in this or any neighbouring universe, and she met her now fiance about a year after I started dating her brother.
“Treat Others How You Want to be Treated” is a Load of Crap
Kiera, 12, super shy is about to be approached by Jake, 39, her mom’s extra extroverted new boyfriend. Jake likes loud voices. Emphatic gestures. Self-deprecation and impressions of politicians. Kiera does not. Not at all. Not in any way. She’s 12.
This One is for My Mom
It’s pretty crappy really, that we dedicate a lone twenty-four hours to the celebration of our mama’s. They have easily spent at least a minimum of twenty-four hours scrubbing away the dried beans off our plates and the skiddies in our pants. They have given not just one, not just several, but every day of their lives to us — and we thank them for it with a Yankee candle (no disrespect to candle lovers. It’s just that, if your mom is anything like mine, then they should definitely be kept away from exposed flames at any and all times). That doesn’t feel right. It isn’t right. We should celebrate them every day of the year, every single moment. Except maybe Pancake Day. (That’s a day to celebrate me. Considering I passed both my theory and my practical driving test on that very same day, two years consecutively. Clearly cars do not run on petrol, they run on batter).