It has been nearly a year since this piece won me my first proper literary (cash) award. I have mixed feelings about it now, but it will always be my first piece to be so acclaimed (and, as you will see while reading it, quite surprisingly, given what I see as a lack of mainstream appeal). It is a piece that served two purposes – a competition entry and therapy. Often I use writing as a device to help me overcome problems and this piece dates back to a rather unpleasant and complex time. But it has long been over and this is now an interesting and cathartic look at an absurdist manifestation of angst and heartbreak. It was written with the stipulation of being set in a certain area of Adelaide, hence the extremely local references. NB: the changes in font/size indicate different literary voices.

So And So stared out of the kitchen window at the view into the neighbour’s garden. She wondered if this was a deliberate voyeuristic move on the part of the house’s original owners or builders. Considering the fact that the neighbour was now a senile old woman who occasionally hosed her over the fence, So And So wished that there were at least a little more of a veil of privacy between the properties. She didn’t dislike the view, though – the neighbour’s garden was lovely, and the brick wall of the side of the house reminded her of the views from the old apartment building in Sydney, when all you could see around you were the walls of other people’s apartments. Thinking of Sydney always sent a little twinge of discomfort through So And So. Although it was a long time since she had lived there, and her time there had only been brief, the fact that she wasn’t there now never failed to lower her spirits whenever her attempts at trying to block out her current circumstances failed. But it wasn’t all bad, she had to remind herself. Constantly. The truth was, it was much easier to feel miserable than it was to feel happy about things, and she often felt guilty for not trying harder. When she stopped to think about these things it felt like she was dwelling on them, which she wasn’t, but giving any thought at all to them felt like giving in, and she tried her hardest to not acknowledge these thoughts and feelings when they crossed her mind. She didn’t mind living here, not at all. Just some times were better than others. Perhaps the advantage of Sydney had been that she had known such a miniscule number of people that her happiness had not been compromised by her interpersonal relationships – it had just been her and the city.

This was not something that could be said of her life in Adelaide. Continue reading