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My summer friend

I think my summer friend has come back.

She likes to come when the sun begins to rise, when trousers become shorts and skin smells of tanning lotion. She likes to hold my hand, not in the comforting “let’s go” hold of a friend in summer but rather she holds me back and says “you don’t want to do those things”. She doesn’t let me stay out all night or go swimming, she says an early night alone is best. She doesn’t let me laugh amongst my friends but stare into my phone screen hoping for some interaction through the pixels. She doesn’t let me have fun, get tanned or drink because she prefers me pale and drunk on my own sadness. I wonder if my best friend is anyone else’s friend, when they are all out having the summer of their young lives, does she visit any of them? Or is this a platonic relationship of possession. I at her will. She drills thoughts into my head with her sharp tongue and doesn’t let me see through the clouds of my own fears and anxieties. She’d rather lay in bed beside me day and night, rather listen to my tears roll down my cheeks than the waves against the shore.

I think my summer friend has come back.

Demi Whitnell is studying literature at Queen Mary University in London and is the editor-in-chief of the university magazine, CUB. She is dyslexic but has never let that affect her pursuit and love of words. She also writes for the Daily Telegraph.


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  1. Izzy


  2. Scruff

    Absolutely incredible! X


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