Member-only story
Draft Day 2025
My Tattoo
Fiction
It was a dark and stormy night... No, I’m fucking kidding, don’t worry. The weather is fine. Sunny at 23 degrees Celsius, a light breeze and some clouds floating by. The weather is fine.
It’s me who’s not.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. You need some context first. I’d invite you over for a drink and a chat so we can get to know each other better, but as soon as you text to confirm if our meeting is still on, I wouldn’t give you an update. If you call me, I won’t pick up.
If you go as far as to ring my doorbell, you’ll get no answer, meanwhile I’m pressed flat as a pancake to the floor, out of the way of the annoying gap in the curtains just in case you dare to look inside to see if anyone’s home.
Even when you’ve gotten back in your car and driven away, I’ll keep the TV and music off — you know, just in case you come back.
Little anxious, am I? You bet. Lotta anxious, even. I’ve met with ten therapists in three years, taken a variety of medication and followed everyone’s advice to “exercise” or “meditate.” Sure it sorta kinda almost works, but not for long. Not for me.
I’m pretty sure my head wasn’t wired for this world. The switch on my fight-or-flight response is permanently jammed on the “flight” mode. I’m…
