Birthday anxiety
Sitting at a table, a twenty-five year old woman wearing a party hat. Sitting in silence. On the table, a dilapidated cake dripped with wax. There is just one light in the room, lighting up woman, table, cake and hat.
It is late; the alcohol is wearing off. There’s a niggling feeling at the back of the woman’s mind. A growing anxiety.
I am twenty-five, she thinks. Twenty-five and what have I done with my life? I have studied, I have worked, I have had small successes along the way. But have I achieved enough? Have I really achieved anything?
The sink is piled with plates. The bench covered in empty bottles. The table dotted with cards filled with heartfelt wishes.
Woman and cake sit in the dim light.
Arms wrap around her shoulders. Arms clasp across her chest. A kiss on her cheek, a chin on her shoulder.
“Birthday girl, come to bed.”
Birthday anxiety was read at the launch of Burley Journal Issue 3 (in which another piece of mine, ‘Seeing’, is published).
It is late; the alcohol is wearing off. There’s a niggling feeling at the back of the woman’s mind. A growing anxiety.
I am twenty-five, she thinks. Twenty-five and what have I done with my life? I have studied, I have worked, I have had small successes along the way. But have I achieved enough? Have I really achieved anything?
The sink is piled with plates. The bench covered in empty bottles. The table dotted with cards filled with heartfelt wishes.
Woman and cake sit in the dim light.
Arms wrap around her shoulders. Arms clasp across her chest. A kiss on her cheek, a chin on her shoulder.
“Birthday girl, come to bed.”
Birthday anxiety was read at the launch of Burley Journal Issue 3 (in which another piece of mine, ‘Seeing’, is published).
