The road is lined with cherry blossoms. Pink princesses waving me onward. I allow the petals to drift, swift into the open window of my car (the one with the engine light I ignore). They scatter so pretty, settling upon the dusty signs of a car full of life: dead skin and fragments of bitten … Continue reading Scatter so pretty
You’re the one I neglect the most. In a bad week, it could be daily. That, or I never leave you; I stay wrapped up in you listening to my heart in pillow echoes. When I do decide to leave, there isn’t a second I don’t feel guilty; ashamed I couldn’t even find a … Continue reading Inside out
Today she was reminded of all her faults; the ones she keeps in boxes, rather than the false ones she champions, for social acceptance. Most days, only she knows where they are kept but she forgets she did not walk from her mother’s womb into adulthood. She stumbled and crawled with a bloody nose, and … Continue reading Hung like bunting
Sitting still "My attempt at conversation was feeble at best. We talked about the weather and when the TV programme ended I asked, ‘What’s next?’ ‘You could run a bath and then go to bed. You could paint your toenails, mess up and start again. You could hang those photos you’ve been meaning to for … Continue reading The Dee Diaries #4
Bad habits are cages ‘I know how it feels to be trapped.’ She replied, and then stood in silence waiting for me to unlock the car. Dee (a novel in progress) - Kristiana Reed Bad habits are cages and I know how it feels to be trapped. Bad habits have a habit of replacing each … Continue reading The Dee Diaries #3
Maybe it would be better if I imagined happiness in objects I have owned for years instead of searching for it as if it were buried treasure or debating whether it is worth the investment as if I hold shares or twiddling my thumbs hoping the cashier won’t id me as if it can be … Continue reading Fabric Misery
The unpredictability of Dee I knew her comfort was poisonous. It was bottled in glass the same shade as my envy from Saturday night. I still accepted it; unable to battle the lullaby close to my ear and every delicate drag through my hair. It was witchcraft or my weakness. My inability to see friend … Continue reading The Dee Diaries #2
My bones feel rigid like I’m living with rigor mortis, depression’s equivalent of arthritis. There’s nothing the doctor can prescribe; sunshine cannot be packaged and nor can your smile so I guess I’ll just wait in my heaviness. This opaque silence where nothing can relieve the nothingness I feel whenever you leave. © … Continue reading Rigid
If I could I would register myself as two people, if there was a register for such things. A register of people who do not always know themselves; the person in the mirror looks the same but uses a different name. They never tell you this name so you would have to register them as … Continue reading Unknown and I
Little acts of braveryEvery day this week, thus far, I have opened the curtains in every room. You would be right in thinking this is a metaphor for letting the light in. It is similar to polishing ageing ornaments or dusting away the cobwebs. Whenever Dee arrives, I hide. I close every curtain, put my … Continue reading The Dee Diaries #1
