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Monday 30 July 2018
Life Memoir

you are my sunshine: when best friends drift apart, the love remains

Naomi Fryers
One comment

About fifteen years ago, Ness and I were best friends, and she recently shared some news on social media that had me weeping, even ugly crying, on and off for days. Throughout the course of our close friendship, Ness and I shared a penchant for drinking lots (oh, those Midori shakers!). We danced, twerked and…
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Thursday 17 May 2018
Memoir

memoir: all the colours

Emma Brooker
No comments

CW: Abuse, child abuse Freedom. As a kid, it meant zooming down our street, which ran from one edge of our flat dusty country town to the other, on my beloved yellow bike. Letting go of the handlebars, tipping my head back and taking in the cotton-candy coloured sky right on dusk. I was forever racing…
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Wednesday 27 December 2017
Memoir

memoir: shells

Emma Brooker
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I can still close my eyes and remember summer holidays as a kid. The car trip we made each year, to the small beach town on the other side of the mountain ranges. The smell of eucalyptus and the soaked earth under the vine tangled rain forest, swallowing up the road as our car made…
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Wednesday 5 April 2017
Memoir

memoir: the great escape

Emma Brooker
One comment

I have never been one to free fall into addiction. The hook always skimmed close to my head, but it never latched. So many times, when I was battered and weak. You would think it would be so easy for me to then reach over an uncrossed line for a bottle or pill. I have…
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Monday 20 March 2017
Life Memoir

memoir: particles

Emma Brooker
No comments

None of it matters. The plastic, the gadgets, the high glossed magazines; the heels with the right brand name, faded out on the soles, from all the running you do to keep in front. Things obtained to make life easier, dull a pain, stroke an ego; to make you feel like you mean something while you hurl…
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Wednesday 8 March 2017
Memoir

memoir: you could be really beautiful if you had some confidence

Sarah Giles
One comment

Loud music, techno-repetitive, rebounded in my head until it stopped making sense. Voices yelling to be heard: Did you hear about that girl? About that guy? Confessions cloaked in the sound of reverb and electronic seizures. I was an intruder, an outsider among my fashionably dressed peers. I made myself small; hiding behind my more…
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Monday 20 February 2017
Featured Memoir

memoir: the blister

Emma Brooker
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It was a painful blister, on the arc of my right foot. It was one that had stopped me wearing closed in shoes for a week. It was red raw and puffed up and as big as a 20 cent piece. It had happened as all good blisters do. Having fun. My husband and I…
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Wednesday 7 December 2016
Memoir

memoir: she

Emma Brooker
2 comments

  Thinking about it all, every last drop of it. She kind of died in a way, without actually ceasing to exist. Without a funeral. Without a kiss goodbye. Not a black dress in sight. Instead, a slow, heart-breaking realisation she wasn’t who she once was and never would be again. Dead, at least to…
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Wednesday 30 November 2016
Health Memoir

memoir: the bottom of the hill

Emma Brooker
3 comments

  Hills and more hills as far as the eye can see. On the outskirts of town, they ebb and they flow. Looking like a far off distant land you could easily explore and conquer like a Burke and Wills expedition. Why is it you feel like screaming and crying and dying as you walk…
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Friday 5 August 2016
Memoir

memoir: musings of past and present

Nadja Poljo
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  It’s one of those cold winter mornings where my bed feels like a blissful cocoon, warm and safe and impossible to abandon. I wake before dawn and the whole world is encased in this transcendent beauty, like I’m the only person whose mind has sacrificed the land of dreams for a glimpse of reality….
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Thursday 3 September 2015
Featured Memoir

a poem a day keeps the doctor away

Bridget Conway
One comment

    *Trigger Warning: This post contains writing which may upset those with mental health issues*  Imagine waking up in a cold, grey room all by yourself. You have a few of your clothes shoved into a shelf next to your bed and a plastic cup of water sits on the floor. There is no…
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Thursday 14 May 2015
Memoir

memoir: sister tongue

Melanie Pryor
One comment

The colour of the tomatoes is changing each day. There are two on the vine; plump sisters, green-golden in the dapple beneath the frangipani tree. They were green yesterday, and now they have changed. I plucked a large tomato from the vine a few days ago. It was almost bursting, skin taut, still somnolent with…
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Tuesday 3 February 2015
Memoir

memoir: han

Kain Kim
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For the longest time, I’d believed it to be a mere fatigue masked as sorrow, bouts of mourning meant to induce involuntary sympathy. The insanity plea. My mother is an exceptionally engaged person. It’s impossible to slot her into a schedule because she’s constantly days ahead of herself. Compulsion to productivity, she calls it. Cases…
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Thursday 29 January 2015
Memoir

memoir: i had a dream about you

Jonno Revanche
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The colour of this fantasy seems to me to reflect something closer to cream than anything else – cream, yes, because that is the colour of the walls I remember even if it was not correct. That was not important. It was the essence: cream, because even the air was delicious and sweet and perfect,…
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