07
I lie in bed and, as my sleeplessness winds into the early morning hours, I think of my friend, Sam, who took his own life about eight years ago. I met him in 2007 when I went back to school to study professional writing and editing as a mature-age student – he was fifteen years younger than me, infinitely more talented than me at the same age (although he probably was regardless of age), intelligent, and funny (with a dry sense of humour). Once school had finished, we kept sporadically in touch over the years, and I always enjoyed his company. But I’m a misanthrope when it comes to everyday…
06
I lie in bed and know there’s something in the room with me. I’m only 8; I share the bedroom with my brother, but he sleeps obliviously in his bed. Something else is in here with us. Springing out of bed, I run to my parents’ bedroom and wake them, but can’t explain what’s wrong. It’s not just some free-floating anxiety that’s manifesting as this disembodied threat. There is something I’m feeling, that I’m sensing, that has taken form in my bedroom, but it’s just beyond my understanding and imagination to conceptualise and articulate. I sleep with my mother that night, while my dad sleeps in my bed. During the…