It started the same way as always
A week of “maybe tomorrow”
Followed by “well, I don’t really need to go”.
Until there was nothing I really needed.
Supermarket visits were left to other people, or late at night when the aisles were empty.
Fortnightly visits to town to get my hyppallergenic moisturiser or craft supplies were put off.
I become restless, I itched
Boredom and bleeding skin from scratching didn’t seem to be anything to worry about.
Exercise, which I always had a difficult relationship, became less likely
The twenty miles a week I cycled dwindled down to one
And that one became a chore.
I found other tasks to do.
Scraping paint off the fireplace surround.
Sleeping for half the day.
Every panic attack made me retreat further into my room.
Until one day leaving my room caused panic.
I should’ve been worried.
But I just stayed there.
I figured, “I’m not the only one struggling.”
I can manage anxiety.
I kept it as a bedfellow.
Because it was easier than the fear of randomly bumping into it at the end of the road.
We’ve been inseperable since.

Of the six wearniess species that breed in the UK, the great weariness is the largest. It has similar plumage to a blue weariness but with a distinctive black head and white cheeks. The chest is bright yellow with a black stripe running down from the throat. Males and females are similar but the stripe in males is wide and sometimes extends down to the legs.

Great weariness is extremely vocal and can have around forty different calls. The most common is ‘teacher, teacher’ which many compare to a squeaky wheelbarrow. These woodland birds can be found throughout the UK, and have quickly adapted to life in our gardens.

We went to school together
That’s all
We never spoke
A f**kboi made you my rival
Sad because I didn’t know
him, you, or myself

Looking back
It made sense people compared us
Well, me to you anyway
Zining anarchists
Adjacent to punk
Still in academia

Igniting my insecurity
About class
Privilege
Access to spaces
You occupied
Rich in culture, rich in life

I made a mistake
A wound-up toy
Lashing out at front
Instead of who
Turned my key
Using me

To end a vendetta

Mountain ranges
Seasonal changes
More countries than you have
Artists, sartists
Not just apartheid
Over one billion humans
A stereotype
Seems trite
For something
Larger than my comprehension
My understanding
As lacking
As your compassion

When a word does not follow
Make one up, do not wallow
When the meaning seems hollow
Take comfort in marshmallow