I feel so fucking crazy that I worry it seeps out of my skin. People stare at me a lot, I think, or glance into my vicinity with a specific casualness that feels broadsword worse by way of bamboo splintering, and I worry that my insanity is showing. Did I wipe it off? Tuck it in? Brick it up? Excrete a social sin? But really, I know nobody is looking. If they ever do, it’ll be from an angle I forgot to vet, because the quantum law of averages is buttered side down and I always end up toast.
Nic Addenbrooke is a freelance writer, editor, content creator, radio broadcaster, part-time poet and sometimes artist. Nic has been coming to terms with existence for years. He currently lives and works in Brisbane where he struggles to turn the cacophony of voices in his head into things of substance. It doesn’t always work but occasionally produces a nice veneer of sanity.