The C Word

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A Friday Night Out In Soho

Tonight, I search for more,

More life,

Blazing lights,

Beautiful buildings

Fancy pubs, bars, and restaurants.

Retail centres look like the holy grail.

Black cabs and red double-deckers

Tonight - I search for more,

More life.


Prancing around the streets of Soho

Inhaling the lingering smoke - the air tastes thicker here somehow.

My senses are overwhelmed and I’m loving it.

But then all sudden like, a sharp ringing in my ear. The voices again…


“You should move to London,”

“When you coming to London,”

“Are you thinking of moving to London anytime soon?”


It is clear to the voices; London is where it is at.

If I want to feel more, I must escape the comfort of the South Downs air.


I don’t want to. Simply put. I don’t have a bubbling urge to ride the tube.

Experience the sickly sweat odour of its chambers.

I don’t want the anxiety that spills over when I’m desperately late.

Constantly running to my next destination.

Making my way through the sea of people

Headphones in. World off. I’m jumpy. 

Expecting the next human who brushed past me to take me hostage. I don’t know where or how of even why. But that is where my brain decided to park itself.

Tonight, I pulled a dress from my mother’s rail.

Subconsciously hating everything I own,

I cover up my love handles I grew after COVID kidnapped my mind and prepubescent metabolism.

I force myself to put make-up on. 

But hang on…

How am I supposed to do eyeshadow?

I can’t look myself directly in the eye.

The mirror terrifies me. Those dark and vacant

pupils staring back at me.

I do the bare minimum and no more no less. My hair will do the rest of the heavy lifting.


Phone, keys, ID and self-esteem.

Where is my self-esteem gone? I can’t find it anywhere.

Shit where is my confidence. I can’t find that either. I need it to leave the house.

Shit. They will all know. They will know. That I don’t own one. I will be so obvious. That it’s not something I can afford right now.

But to fit in you gotta have one.

I reach into my bag and grab a pre-rolled cigarette. I must take a break from this exhausting conversation with a mutual friend I really have nothing in common with and we both just making polite small talk while, to our right, our joint friend is getting tipsy and laughing like the wind: Often, loud, and unpredictable in its direction.

Oh, Jesus. I think of my warm four-poster bed waiting for me at home.

I can’t be disappointed there. In my four posters. No stranger to be terrified by no barman to interact with. No mutuals to pretend to care about, even if is for an hour or two.

In my four-poster, I don’t have to have any confidence.

My self-esteem doesn’t need to be all tidy and wrapped like a Christmas gift.

But I want to feel more.


Tonight, I search for more.

So, I grab all that I can muster and take a train to Soho.

I am braving the buzz of the city.

Giving it and myself a chance.

It’s all artificial after all.

_

Paige Furlonge-Walker has two brothers, and two middle names and is a final-year Sociology undergraduate studying at the University of Leicester. Confessed coffee snob, proud podcaster and artist. ‘All Day Brunch’ (available on Spotify) was created by her best mate Maddy Stevens and herself last summer. It explores all sorts of social, cultural and political topics. As an artist, she specialises in abstract acrylic-based paintings and mixed media pieces of a political nature. Art Instagram - auraart.c. Art website - https://www.auraart.uk/ All Day Brunch Podcast - https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/all-day-brunch/id1518488240

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