A Nightmare – Short Story

Bang. Bang. Bang. Thump. Metallic sounds somewhere to the left of me creep into my subconscious, gradually infiltrating the dark fog enshrouding my mind. I feel cold, damp, and numb. I stretch my fingers; I’m on the ground. It’s hard like ice, and cleaner than the kitchen floor of an OCD patient. I open my eyes, but my vision is obscured. Rubbing them vigorously, I scrape out the gunk that has secreted onto my lashes, and a congealed mixture of white and red pus clings to the tips of my fingers. Bizarre.

Before me is a room tainted in shades of white and silver. I muster what energy I have and sit up, only to be met with a searing fiery pain across my abdomen. Confusedly lifting the now tattered and torn remains of my top, I notice red markings carved into my flesh. Violent and fresh. Blood trickles down towards my waistline in thin jagged lines and immediately, fresh waves of revulsion and shame roll over me.

Staggering gingerly to my feet, I sigh. So weak. So dizzy. But I am used to it.

Hate. And Hunger. More hate. And then more hunger.

Slowly, I turned to look around me, puzzlement rippling through me like tattered streamers caught in a summer storm. What was going on? Who? Where? What? Why?

The contents of the room, whilst random to some, look so carefully laid out to me. An open empty fridge with its softly flickering light, a lifted toilet seat, a toothbrush, a sink, and a bed stuffed with food. Suspicion mounts in my chest; it all seems far too deliberate.

Hate returns and with it, the voice of darkness, a hollow rasping of rage… building… building… building…

Scared for a moment, but suddenly terrified, goose bumps ricochet across my body in pinpricks of heat. Someone knew. Someone knew my secret.

Who was behind this? How did they know? I’d been so careful! I race through my mind trying to remember what had happened before I woke up in this hellhole, but nothing arose. It couldn’t, everything was a blur, a distorted mess, much like my life I suppose. I anxiously pace the room in an attempt to experience a memory rush, to just have everything come flooding back to me. On the verge of tearing out the feeble remains of my hair, I see a series of marks, all too similar to the ones on myself, etched onto the wall, evenly spaced, and evenly placed, glaring at me with the same judgement I’ve seen a million times before. In a crook behind the bed, I see them all, there’d have to be at least sixty plus. Engrossed in this discovery I become startled by the sharp scrape behind me.

A mirror had gracefully shifted itself on the wall behind me, and carefully enough so as to place me in its line of fire. Though streamed with cracks from one corner to the other, it still revealed a nauseating image that I refused to be real. A large, grotesque blob, layered in rolls of fat, cellulite and stretchmarks was reflected back at me, not even worthy of the term human. Suddenly enraged I feel the blood boil beneath my skin, circulating its way down my arms and into my fists, I smash the corner of the mirror. I don’t give two fucks about where I am or what’s happened anymore. My fear evaporated as if the mirror had taken to it with a shamwow. Grabbing one of the jagged shards that littered the ground I hacked at my thighs, once, twice, thirteen times to remove from them the flesh that repelled me from society. Resting for a moment in the pool of blood that was my victory, I take to its twin, twice as hard with a shard twice as sharp. Slicing through my flesh like a fresh loaf of bread. Mid slash I catch a glimpse of myself in the glass beneath me. It was no use. I needed more.

Dragging myself to the toilet I plunge the toothbrush down my throat. Again and again I gag as sick pours from my mouth. The toothbrush was no longer effective I needed to go deeper. I shove my hand down the back of my throat and scratch and pull with every ounce of energy I can muster. Blood this time. Mildly satisfied and only somewhat exhausted, I admire the blood stains embedded in my nails as I return to the broken glass, hovering over it like an assassin and its victim. No change. Still the same. Not good enough.

I feel the colour of my face slip away as something snaps inside of me. I can’t do this anymore. I launch myself from one side of the room to the other, hoping with every part of my being that I can knock it out of me. With each slap into the wall I hear the ringing in my ears, its back. The voices. Ugly, fat, disgusting, worthless, nothing. The voices get louder, I go faster, have to make it stop, I don’t care where I am any more I’m not scared anymore just angry, frustrated, done. Harder and harder I throw myself, my heart pounding as I test the limits of the human body. Bang. Bang. Bang. Thump!

Cold, wet, numb. The nurses peer over me. Literally immersed in my own blood, sweat and tears they tend to my wounds, but it’s too late. I’ve won. The voices are fading, and the pain is slipping away. As my vision becomes lighter, and the voices around me more faint, I remember where I was. St Vincent’s psych ward for eating disorders. They’ll say it beat me, but I did what I had to do to make it leave. It consumed my life, like a nightmare that my body refused to wake up from. But now, as the nurses and the room in which I spent my days crying, and cursing the life ANA and MIA had given me slip away, I find I’m in a dreamland.


The Do’s and Don’ts of Outfit Repeating

The 90’s and 00’s have reared their heads into the fashion world of 2017. Whilst memories of butterfly clips and body glitter come to mind, other fashion faux pas seem to have slipped into both magazines, and the streets of Brisbane.

So, to help everyone Keep Up With The Come Backs, here are 5 of the Do’s and Don’ts to assist those lingering in fashion limbo.

  1. Double Denim

Whilst Britney and JT’s colossal mistake spurred the refinement of this apparently timeless ensemble, it is imperative that everyone remembers the historic moment for what it was, a mistake! Do not, I repeat, do not double denim any statement pieces. Keep it simple. It’s the rule for daytime make up and it’s the rule for the double D. Style it, structure it, but for the love of BS and JT, DO NOT over do it.

  1. Leggings As Pants

When dressing yourself of a morning, make a choice, and dress accordingly. No sass and bide tops over your Lorna Jane tights, one or the other. Now if your

Gym is either in, or close to a shopping centre, it is fine to stroll around that public space in your leggings, but maybe carry a jacket just in case (we all know the perils of the dreaded threadbare situation). Bottom line; know what you’re doing, where you’re going, and the quality/visibility of your leggings.

  1. Low Rise Jeans

Whilst some blessed individuals are capable of wearing this tabooed pant, most of us are not, and more than that, most of us have enjoyed the past decade of being able to sit down without our cracks on display. If you can wear these bad boys, congratulations, but please know your body type, as these jeans only tend to suit one.

  1. Fishnet Stockings

Previously associated with a rebellious bad girl image (thanks Avril Lavigne), fishnet stockings seem to have done a flip on the fashion radar and become stylish. Best paired with ripped jeans and a crop to get the full fishy effect, fishnet stockings have become a layering style icon, best noted on Kendall Jenner and GiGi Hadid. Whilst rarely worn on their own under a dress or skirt, you can safely say that this 90’s/00’s return is one that could go either way in the near future. Watch this space.

  1. Lingerie As Outerwear

Donned by Selena Gomez and the Kardashian clan, lacy bodices tucked into jeans seem to be the next thing to emerge from the 80’s and 90’s. The most memorable influence of this bizarre trend would have to be from the almighty Madonna, who could/can basically do and wear what she likes, because, well, she’s Madonna. But unfortunately, we can’t all be Madonna. Whilst I applaud the brave females that embrace this look, I must quote Albus Dumbledore on this one; “I recommend severe caution, to all.”

sex · Uncategorized · women

Double Standards

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, it shouldn’t be news to anyone that Victoria has advocated for the change of walking signs, from men, to women. Whilst there is a following of supporters, it seems silly to specify one gender or another over a walking signal, as everyone walks, and in the case of school zones, men do drop children to school as well. In what was a strive for equality has actually spun in the opposite direction.

There is a lack of gender equality across the board; men are rarely included in discussions or images regarding parenting, cooking, and anything that could be remotely classified as feminine. Women aren’t included in things such as signs for worksites, football commercials, depictions of workplace offices, or the simplicity that is walking across the road.

Beyond this are the hard facts, that only 24% of bosses in the corporate world are female, and only 1 in 5 teachers are male. There have been outbursts for the injustice in parliament, and women on strike in schools, proving that without them there, schools cannot operate because they make up the majority.

Miley Cyrus frequently advocates for gender equality through her Happy Hippie Foundation. She, and her organisation are the breath of fresh air everyone needs. Equality is equality, aka, feminism.

Miley Cyrus Facebook Image Credit: Miley Cyrus






Image Credit: https://www.google.com.au/search?q=victoria+traffic+lights&rlz=1C5CHFA_enAU708AU708&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjtn77sv77TAhXIx7wKHS_ZD4QQ_AUICCgB&biw=1366&bih=671#tbm=isch&q=victoria+traffic+light+change&imgrc=C4eaQTrMxgdsDM:

Uncategorized · women

Fight Like A Girl

In the wake of international women’s day, the promotion of feminism has been rife within the media. In combination with the election of Donald Trump as the newest US president, and his degrading opinions of women, celebrities and communities around the world have banded together to advocate for women’s rights.

Women across the United States have marched together to advocate for women’s rights. Miley Cyrus joined the march as a member of the happy hippie foundation, as a protest to the cuts being made to Planned Parenthood. The march received media coverage that reached many corners of the world, including here in Australia, and yet, it didn’t reach the heart or sensibility of Donald Trump.

Trump is still planning on banning abortions and cutting funds to Planned Parenthood. Not only does this disadvantage women as a whole, but it disadvantages young girls who are scarred, and barely in control of their own bodies as it is.

The pretence president trump has placed on Planned Parenthood and abortions is disallowing women and girls across the ‘greatest country on earth’, to have the right to their own bodies and their health.

Absolutely no one, under any circumstances or position of power, should be allowed to determine how someone lives, and/or breathes. It is an abuse of authority, and will in my belief, consequently lead to more physical, and mental health issues that currently surround young girls, and pregnancy.




Image Credit: CNN



The Powerful and the Opinionated

A European politician recently refuted the comments made by her male opposition in parliament, who blatantly stated:

“Women must earn less than men, because they are weaker, they are smaller, they are less intelligent and they must earn less, that’s all”.

The female opposition replied with what every woman has ever dreamed to say:

“Well, according to what you’re saying and according to your theory I wouldn’t have the right to be here as a member of parliament. I know that you’re very upset and you’re very concerned about the fact that we women can represent citizens on an equal footing with you. Now, I think I need to defend European women from people like you.”

This woman proved in three sentences, that women are not only on the same level as men, but that on an emotional aspect, with this man in particular, more emotionally mature.

To stand by the belief of ‘women must be in the home’ and ‘women do the cooking and the cleaning’, while the ‘man’ sits on the couch or in his office, is absurd on multiple levels, and is apparently the stand point of this polish politician.

Lets get one thing very clear. If someone can build a bridge, engineer a computer, manage a business, and do al of these large and marvelous things, then they can sure as hell wash a plate and vacuum the stairs.

Links: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=40hhc0cjYyg

Image Credit: https://www.google.com.au/search?q=women%27s+rights+march+us&rlz=1C5CHFA_enAU708AU708&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjX_Jf1wb7TAhWKTLwKHSVWBOYQ_AUIBigB&biw=797&bih=583#tbm=isch&q=european+politician+sexist&imgrc=M1MF7t7xVcK8jM:

sluts · Uncategorized · women

To Grin, or to Bare it?

There are almost a hundred different approaches to understanding feminism, and expressing support for it. With celebrities such as Kim Kardashian and Amy Schumer bearing all in the name of confidence, whereas Ellen DeGeneres and others prefer to take a subtler approach. The reason for smile versus a bum with champagne is the latest scrutiny over feminism activist Emma Watson, for revealing her breasts in a magazine spread about the issue.

Some extreme feminists around the world seemed to be outraged by this notion, as the line between bras versus braless became heavily publicised. However, the lovely Emma proved to us all once again why she is the leading lady of this cause, by stating:

“Feminism is about giving women choice. Feminism is not a stick with which to beat other women. It’s about freedom, its about liberation its about equality. I really don’t know what my tits have to do with it. It’s very confusing. Most people are confused. No, I’m just always just quietly stunned.”

I think the common phrase in response to that would have to be something along the lines of, ‘dayum girl, you do you!’

Image Credit: GQ Magazine June 2016



sex · sluts · Uncategorized · women

Confused vs. Confucius

In the age of feminism, women in particular are being told to be confident within themselves and own the skin they’re in. However, magazines seem to be adopting a bipolar persona. With the flip of page readers are exposed to ‘get your summer body now!’ and ‘make-up hacks for life’, to ‘have the power of a man’, ‘don’t shave’, or the classic debate of ‘tits in or tits out?’

It seems the messages for women are incredibly tangled, and I cant imagine being the only one confused. When one minute you’re being sucked into a $200 Sephora splurge, and the next feeling as though pant suits are your only choice and razors are 100% optional, its no wonder transgender and androgynous peoples are needing to be accepted beyond moral.

It seems the war between fashion/beauty and feminism is causing more grief than advocates of either realise. It’s high time for the two camps to join forces and more frequently advocate the facts; feminism is male and female, it is rights for everyone, you can be a feminist in a biker jacket with tattoos, as well as high heels and a mini skirt. Stop the dividing line, and prove the support for equality, beyond rights, beyond fashion, just leave it as rights to be who we want to be.




Image Credit: Own