Graduation was intense; I moved back to London without focus or direction. I started a beautifully destructive and turbulent relationship. We no longer speak. I moved to Highgate, but fell out with a friend over trivialities like washing-up and laundry. In autumn my mother developed cancer and I moved home to look after her between hospital visits. Writing feverishly, I produced my best pieces, was finally published and won first prize in an international competition. Months later I still hadn’t found a job. I fell apart and my doctor reluctantly prescribed antidepressants. Happiness became meaningless because I couldn’t feel sad.
