By Clare Forrest Fiction. Today is another fight. Why can’t you just relax? You use to be such an easy girl to be around. Now you’re just a constant nightmare. Everything is always a fucking issue. Better or worse. Call me when you are better. I meant to tell you, the cat has conjunctivitis. Your dad called. I told him you might phone him back, but you were sleeping. I didn’t tell him it was because you drank your way through a bottle of vodka again last night. Give me a break. I woke up this morning and just thought, I don’t care. That’s it. I give up. I wish i’d been born as a plant. non fiction. You hurt. You are overwhelmed. You’re bursting out. The night sky sags under the weight of the stars. Thursday morning. Doctors appointment. Again. Sunday morning. The small comforts are your favourite things in life. You see her every day at the bus stop, and you know she’s never seen you. You wish people would turn their mobiles off. You wish people asked more. Asked less. Monday morning. You’re crying.
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By Clare Forrest

Fiction.

Today is another fight. Why can’t you just relax? You use to be such an easy girl to be around. Now you’re just a constant nightmare. Everything is always a fucking issue.

Better or worse. Call me when you are better.

I meant to tell you, the cat has conjunctivitis.

Your dad called. I told him you might phone him back, but you were sleeping. I didn’t tell him it was because you drank your way through a bottle of vodka again last night.

Give me a break.

I woke up this morning and just thought, I don’t care. That’s it. I give up.

I wish i’d been born as a plant.

non fiction.

You hurt. You are overwhelmed. You’re bursting out.

The night sky sags under the weight of the stars.

Thursday morning. Doctors appointment. Again. Sunday morning. The small comforts are your favourite things in life. You see her every day at the bus stop, and you know she’s never seen you. You wish people would turn their mobiles off. You wish people asked more. Asked less. Monday morning. You’re crying.