Please take your conspiracy theories elsewhere. Might I suggest a literal echo chamber, so you can’t hurt anyone else? If you don’t have one at home, simply bend over and yell up your own cavernous arsehole. Stay home, wear a mask, be nice to people in service industries who are risking their lives. Twat.

I was diagnosed with epilepsy — mid-pandemic. — We are in the middle of a pandemic. The world is closing, bubbling up for protection. Now is the best time to bake banana bread and make promises towards 30 days of yoga. We are re-dedicating ourselves to wholesome pursuits, gratitude, self-care. …

I’ve been sober for six years. I’m ready to crack. — My partner just left to get alcohol-free beer, because I am white-knuckling it through this fucking pandemic. Did you want a nice smooth intro to this story? Not happening. Let’s dive right into the middle of what it’s like to be in this anxiety hurricane as a sober addict. It…

A doomsday reminder to fight for all that’s good in the world — When was the last time you thought about anglerfish? It’s a fascinating subject, right from the get go. A creature that has evolved a protruding lie, growing straight out of its forehead, a luring lamp glowing in the darkest depths of the ocean. Knowing that such an odd creature is…

A true story of 200 tins — My brother, CJ, lives in an empty house he used to share with our dad. There are three bedrooms, an overgrown garden, a kitchen, living-room, and a cold, damp outbuilding where the washer and gardening tools squat. For brief periods over a decade ago, I also slept under this roof…

Vulnerability is the heart of narrative non-fiction. — Writing narrative non-fiction is the art of squaring circles: conveying the squishy, random order of life into a neat, linear story, to draw themes and insights from the mess of experience. Editorializing reality is always a challenge; no conversation can be recounted with perfect recall, though we suspend our disbelief…

As an autistic kid in a small town, I creeped out my very first crush — “Whether a gesture is alarming or charming depends on how it’s received.” Ted Mosby delivered this sage advice in the last season of How I Met Your Mother, about 15 years too late by my timing. …

How roller derby taught me to take up my space in the world. — I was halfway through a dramatic weight loss, when things started to plateau. I’d lost thirty pounds eating vegetables that smelled like farts and walking a little every day. I knew working out would be an eventual part of my journey to a goal weight, but I was avoiding it…

I pray I never see your bones again, Mum. — I am not a religious person. Still, I try to be consciously grateful for the things I have. A roof over my head. A persistently patient partner. Eggos in the freezer. The fact my mum is fat. I know she would find this gratitude strange; she doesn’t like her body…