No family, no friends waving from the curb outside my shitty one-bedroom accommodation in the shared home—just me, a beat-up suitcase, a rucksack that has seen better days, and a university acceptance letter that feels more like a dare than a promise of a new life. I should be excited—grateful that the universe had decided to take a break from royally fucking me on the regular. But all I feel is the crippling nerves that seem to feed my imposter syndrome.
Who am I to think I deserve more from this life? A sliver of myself—the part I rarely admit even exists—wonders whether this place, this change, if it might give me something I’ve never had before. Something akin to belonging, something stable where I’m not always sucked into an eternal mishmash of fight or flight mode. The driver turns up the volume on the radio, and I settle backin my seat, swiping at the screen when my phone chimes with a text message.
Caroline: Text me when you get there, so I know you weren’t murdered on route. Or worse, enrolled in some shitty psyche class. You’re too far gone. You aren’t meant to understand the mind.
So I do have one constant presence in my life, but the jury’s still out whether this particular presence enriches it though.
Ebony: Your support astounds me. I’m not even out of the city yet. The emotional ambush I’m about to walk into, and I’ve got your voice in my head.
I can imagine the smile on Caroline’s face as a picture of a cute bunny with a thumbs-up pings in my inbox
Ebony: All the unresolved grief is just melting away.
I debate what emoji will best convey my sarcasm, but a new message comes in before I can decide.
Caroline: That’s my brave little disaster. You remember your meds? The last time you detoxed against doctor’s orders, they found you monologuing at the ducks in the park.
Caroline: We can’t all pull off crazy. It’s not a good look for you, love.
Ebony: Flushed the meds. I’ve decided I’m switching them out for a more holistic approach. Thought I’d raw-dog the trauma for dramatic effect. Unhinged is the new pretty, you know.
Caroline: Charming. That’s how your mother coped too. If only she had more crystals in her life, totally would have rethought that whole mass suicide thing.
Ebony: I think that had more to do with the years of playing mother earth to a cult of degenerates and less to do with her aligning her chakras, but what do I know? Maybe feng shui is the cure to all madness.
Caroline: I slipped you a care package. The pie slice is questionable and probably expired, but the thought was there. Everything else is self-explanatory—or they should be at your age.
I pull out the manila parcel decorated with marker hearts and flowers from my backpack, emptying out the contents into my lap. Condoms, the number for a local sexual health clinic, a miniature bottle of tequila, a pocket-size can of deep heat, the branding crossed out with sharpie and the words rapist repellent scrawled across it. The final parting gift from my case worker is a mini book of mindfulness with a note scribbled onto the front page above the italicised Live, Laugh, Love that makes me almost throw up in my mouth.
A little positivity never hurt anyone—alsogreat roach potential should you find yourself stuck.
Caroline x0x
My head lulls back as a bellowing laugh rumbles in my chest. I type out another message to Caroline, wiping away the tears collecting at the corners of my eyes.
Ebony: Why are you like this?
Caroline: I fell in love with a man named Steve who left me for my brother, I spend most of my day questioning every life choice I’ve ever made in great detail, and I’ve been waiting for a promotion for what feels like forever. So now I’m clinging to you, my court-mandated emotional hostage. It’s called being a grown-up—welcome to the real world. FYI: One hundred percent would not recommend.
The three little dots ripple across the screen, and I stupidly wait to see what fucked up offering she has to share next.
Caroline: I feel like you need some parental guidance.
Ebony: Don’t you do it—this is already weird enough, and God made you barren for a reason; this is not your skill set.
Caroline: Hot take—don’t romanticise the trauma. You survived it; dating it would not be advised. Unless he’s hot. Hot trumps unhinged any day.
Ebony: Jesus Christ.
Caroline: His hotness is debatable.
Ebony: You’re insane. You been dipping into your own stash?
Caroline: Beside the point, shrooms should be classed as one of my five-a-day. They enhance my abilities.
Ebony: They enhance your personality defects. How you got this job is beyond me.
Caroline: My manager accepts references or enthusiastic fellatio—I have no gag reflex, and the blowjobs raised less questions.
