By Saphire Favell
Blood, Sweat & Future Peers
We start in less than a month. I still haven’t finished ‘Your Memory’ and I’m starting to get a bit twitchy. Nerves.
The rain is pouring. I haven’t been to the gym in weeks and today is both of my ex boyfriends birthdays so I made a group chat and sent them a Happy birthday Gif. Luckily we’re all on good terms or I’d have sent them the paperwork for an injunction too.
Funny. As a kid I thought I’d be a millionaire by now – 26 sounded ancient then. Instead, this time last year, I was literally googling how much money you can earn selling used pants on craigslist and the monetary benefits of a sugar daddy. (FYI – not worth it). Luckily some guardian angel must have taken pity on me and, low and behold, I’ve now sold my soul to Marc (willingly) rather than my pants to some random sod online.
I’m fortunate to say I feel like I’ve found my calling in life even though it took a few hurdles to get here.
I probably sound mental. I’m not. Not yet. Not until the deadlines draw closer anyway.
I literally have no idea what I’m rambling on about. I’ve had no sleep. So here is some spoken word I wrote last night which will hopefully bring the word count to 500.
Blood, sweat and future peers.
the emails, rules and tasks
are starting to come through thick and fast
and in my throat I’m starting to get that familiar feeling
like I’m screaming
but my lips are sealed
an internal battlefield
a hair ball of anxiety I can’t quite retch
as I’m trying to savour the last few weeks of this comfortable homestretch
but in three weeks’ time
the doors to the divine
will open for us to star in our very own pantomime
marc: the ring leader
the school teacher
the church preacher
and, at times, inevitably the grim reaper
will take us on a journey through doom and gloom
we’ll pray for help from the pews of the school class room
I’ll cry several tears in the girls bathroom
until, one day, the storm will clear
and the fear will disappear
and what he’d have preached for the past year
will sound like music to our ears
we will bloom
like flowers from a tomb
but with thorns
and dancing leaves
and roots strong enough to crack through the sweet concrete
deep into the earth beneath our feet
for we are all fruits from the same tree
ready to brazenly
leave footprints for all to see
in three weeks’ time
the doors to the divine
will open for us to sow the seeds of life