Often, when I’m home alone, I’ll go to the kitchen and take a knife from the block, the big one that looks like it was descended from Viking stock. I’ll take it to the bathroom, remove my clothes, and sit with it in the shower basin. Cross-legged with the flat upon my thigh, I use the nails of my free hand to map prospective incisions. I stay this way until I feel guilty for having wasted everybody’s time, time I should have spent on them. It doesn’t matter what I want, they still need so much from me.
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.