Apparently it’s only terminal half the time. I haven’t told anyone yet ‘cause they’ll make it about them, they always make it about them, and then I’m gonna have to get treatments, take meds, talk to psychiatrists, and let everyone air out their platitudes, only making me stronger one day at a time until I’m too weak to tell them all to get fucked. Truth is, I’m glad I got sick. I’ve wanted something like this for the longest time, the end result if not the symptoms. I deserve what I got and I hope I don’t get better.
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.