You should try it too — “I hate Tuesdays,” said Stef every Tuesday without fail. “Like, Mondays are actually ok. Your mind is cleared from the weekend and you’re ready to be an adult. But you wake up on Tuesday morning and the hype is gone. Reality catches up. It builds this block. Then you have…

This simple swap is all it takes. — I’ve chickened out of interviews. I’ve cancelled dates, dinners, and days out. I mostly regretted it after, every time. I’m not talking about cancelling a night out because you’re so exhausted from the week that you’re dozing off and falling into a pile of clouds while walking home. No. …

Black satin, bass, and blood — Walking out the door, we squint against the surprising brightness of day. We wait to regroup, then take a picture. We look fresh as daisies. We definitely should not. It’s 6:30 am. Electrowerkz, an old metal works warehouse and yard dating all the way back to Victorian times, where drinks…

Your average rush hour morning in the city. — It’s only 8:37 am and I’m already checking under my armpits to see if they need another spray. The sun is too strong for this hour, even when blurred by clouds of fine dust coming from the nearby building site. The grainy soot cloggs my lungs and scratches my eyes…

The other? Destructive as hell. — In preparation for my (still only fictional) job interview (which I know will come, eventually!), I’m wondering if calling yourself a perfectionist is in fact a good idea. Even if I am one. It has become a bit of a cliche answer. Besides, perfectionism can have a surprisingly destructive dark…

If you thought you weren’t, think again. — “It goes under his skin, like this,” she said. “First, pinch the skin at the back of his neck and draw it up. He’ll naturally go still, as that’s where his mum used to grab him to carry him. Then the needle goes right here, in that sort of triangle…

To love is to let love and pain blend into one. — Cake for lunch. Either that, or a £27 selection box of fine vegan chocolates. That’s how I know things have gone bad. I mean, surely I should be used to it by now. My boyfriend and I have been together for 13 years. …

A quest to forget. — Today my boyfriend left me. Join me as I adjust to being a single girl in London again. To make myself forget how much I miss him, I’m challenging myself to write every day for 45 days. Why 45 days? Everything’s temporary. So will be my home-alone freedom. He left…

If the writing doesn’t kill you, APM will. — Plop! The delivery guy drops the box exactly one meter away from my door. I watch him tap a pen on a tablet to update the package as delivered. He signals I can now pick it up. I’ve been biting my nails all morning for this. I also kind of…