fourteen

Your temper is a living thing; it stretches and twists like an animal, waiting. You can feel it pulsing through your body, into your heart, back out. You are always waiting, because the trigger is anything.

thirteen

Well, you're a laugh a minute, aren't you? No, not you. You.

twelve

Your disinterest in other people's negativity is surprising, considering how much of your own you wallow in. That repressed, silent sigh when they start talking again; the way you close your eyes slowly and take a deep breath, then nod, as if you have been listening. You are watching their mouth move, but you are somewhere else. It is summer and you are standing by the water and the sun sparkles, glaring into your eyes; you push your sunglasses up your nose and smile.

eleven

Ignore it. Ignore that feeling. Squash it now, before it takes over. You are doing well. Remind yourself of that. You are doing well. There are knots in your hair and your head aches and you...must...sleep...soon... But ignore it. You are going to be OH. KAY.

ten

Your ideas are a war in your mind. You want this, but you do that. You say this, but you think that. There is no following through with your plans. Your anger is a diamond of frustration and hate in your chest. Sometimes you mistake this for your heart, but then you remember that you lost that a long time ago.

nine

'You are not your fucking khakis.'

eight

Sat in the dark, world rushing by, hood up and there are tears rolling down your cheeks. Twelve hours later you are stood in your living room, head thrown back, dancing in the empty house. What a difference a day makes.

You saw your own blood today, pumped into tubes, deep red the colour of Christmas velvet. It made you feel mortal for a moment, and then you started thinking...if I can give up this, then I can give up anything. You stood up and felt strangely invincible, despite the tingling in your arm.