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Emily Wilcox
Any excuse to show off my space wall, you know?

“Tell me about yourself,” my date asked. His jawline was sharp, gaze sharper and so I was blunt.

“I’ve got such trapped wind right now.”

Yeah. Yeah. He’s not my date anymore.

What Am I?

There are so many things I could tell you about myself. That’s true of all of us. So…

Honestly, I tend not to reference myself in the third person — as though I am some omnipresent narrator observing myself from a faux leather recliner somewhere, a bowl of sweet and salty popcorn perched in my lap. To me, that would be like commentating the life of a parallel…

Photo by Ali Bakhtiari on Unsplash

My boyfriend is obsessed.

Obsessed obsessed obsessed. With the things he loves, he’s obsessed. He’s a gamer, so he’s super into Magic The Gathering, Escape from Tarkov and occasionally Escape the Gathering (which is just us finding excuses to avoid meeting up with pals so we can finish bingeing Twilight)


Photo by Markus Winkler on Unsplash

Oh dear reader (like “dear reader” except it reflects the shameful state of my existence right now),

I’m feeling low. My anxiety is high. And my fridge is like my stats page on Medium: barren. It’s been a tumultuous week (lifetime) as a writer.

I work freelance, content writing for…

Photo by Lefteris Pachis on Unsplash

Did you know that you can do things without expecting something back in return?

*The audience gasps. Thunder breaks outside the windows. In the distance, a goat screams.*

I know right?

Interactions don’t need be weighted. You can talk to people not to ask for a favour, but just to…


Photo by Road Trip with Raj on Unsplash

If you weren’t reading this right now, if nobody did at all — does that render it useless? Null? Void? Redundant? A real big waste of my time?

Or, okay, let me put it this way:

“If a tree falls in the forest and there’s nobody around to hear it…

Photo by wu yi on Unsplash

On the third floor of the library, that’s where I am.
There’s a girl with a mohawk and books in a pram.
I can hear escalators churn and a hand dryer blow,
But all else is silent — until my heart steals the show.

I’m here to hide from distractions…

Photo by René Ranisch on Unsplash

I sent this to one of my best pal’s today:

“I have a physics degree. Never used it lol. Then I worked at Jaguar Land Rover for two weeks. Quit and did a Masters in Publishing. Not used that either. Worked at a hotel for a year. Hated it. Left…

Photo by Daniel Herron on Unsplash

A verbal slap. An emotional dropkick. An intangible war zone. Saying no is a cataclysmic concept. It stings, it scars and it’s friggin’ scary, right? And yet, we’re all faced with the need, the desperation, to say it.

But we just don’t know how.

It’s weird when you think about…


Photo by Sina Saadatmand on Unsplash

So you’re a writer. Right?

You’ve probably got a pen in your bag as you read this. Own a couple of fancy ass journals you’ll never actually utilise for fear of tarnishing their pristine aesthetic? Bet you like coffee. And the universe. And people watching. You definitely have a favourite…

Emily Wilcox

I imagine in a parallel universe I might be a caricaturist or a botanist or somewhere asleep on the moon — but here, I am a writer.

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