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‘I’m really sorry,’ I said, the mortification turning my face bright red.

I almost gave up at that point, but a searing pain radiating from my vagina kept me rootedto the spot.

‘Bad vagina, evil vagina!’ I said again, my voice a pitch higher, aware of a small queue of customers forming behind me. ‘Bad thrush ... in my pants. Thrush? You know? Thrush, like a small brown bird? But in my wizard’s sleeve? Thrush?’ I sighed, but she had started to look intrigued, so I continued.

‘Yeastproblem, y’know?’ I said, loudly. ‘Yeast? Like, as in bread? OrMarmite? Do you have Marmite over here?’

She looked at the floor, and I wondered if I should pull my trousers down and show her. But I had a feeling the other people in the shop might object. Things were bad enough without me getting arrested for flashing a chemist.

We stared at each other for a long moment and I took one last shot.

‘FUNGUS? IN MY FANNY? FUNGUS FANNY?’ I said, pointingaggressively at my undercarriage. It was at this point that a much older Thai man emerged from the back room. He caught my last couple of words and stopped short.

‘Can I help you, miss?’ he said in lovely English and then paused, adding a few quiet words to the girl who immediately left – giving me one last, haunted look.

‘I’m sorry,’ he turned to address me again. ‘My daughter must dohomework now. She is learning English at school, but I don’t think she has learnt the word “fungus” yet. Or “fanny”.’

Oh.

She actually literally was twelve.

I shouted at a small child about fanny fungus.

OK, cool cool cool cool cool cool cool cool cool.

I cleared my throat then, my face flaming with humiliation, as he came around the counter and picked something up from a shelfbehind me.

Canesten. The same one we have in theUK. They have the brand name cream and pessary. And it was right there if I’d only looked.

Yep.

After thatoh-so-rewarding experience with the locals, I returned back to the hostel, to find new tourists had taken over Mark and Joe’s beds in the dorm room. I ignored them, climbing into bed and trying to sleep while the cream – hopefully– started to work. That was about twenty hours ago, and I haven’t got back up yet.

I just feel a bit like giving up. What’s the point? Like, what am Idoinghere? If this has been about learning who I really am, I think I have, and honestly, I do not care for her. Mark was right, I suck. I’d rather go back into denial now. I’d rather not know what a selfish, unlikeable bitch I am.

AndI really would quit and go back to England right now – this very fucking second – but it’s not like there’s anything waiting for me back at home anyway, is there? I have no home, no job, no family waiting for me. Mark’s not talking to me. I don’t even know for sure where he is – maybe Australia like he said. Or maybe he went home if he was really upset. Maybe he and Joe have even continued on theThai adventure without me. And my best friend Eva isn’t exactly desperately waiting for me to come back. She’s busy talking behind my back with Mark, while building her lovelygrown-up nest with Jeremyand the baby. She doesn’t want me in the way, bothering her and interrupting her special family time. No one needs me, nobody wants me. I am a waste of space. Maybe I really have pushed everyoneaway.

I pull out my phone and tap a few buttons.

‘Hey, are you awake?’ I type. ‘How are you? I kinda miss you and I am sad. Do you want to talk?’ I pause, my finger hovering over the send button.

I am arguing with myself.

I’ve come so far. Do I really want to start this again?

I haven’t messagedTDin weeks. I was finally feeling good about it. Over it. Do I really want toruin that with this message? Get sucked back into his twat vortex? I don’t – I really don’t – but I am also so fucking lonely and there is no one else who will make me feel that familiar way. That safe, bad way I’m so used to feeling.

I just need to hear some kind words. I need to hear from someone that they care about me, even if it is meaningless and hollow and too complicated.

But willit make me feel better? Or just even worse?

I think I know the answer to that.

Defeated, I delete theun-sent message and throw my phone back under the covers.

My phone beeps and I pick it back up. It’s my lovely Clara from the Ayahuasca retreat.

‘You fancy a chat on the phone?’ she’s written, and a tear rolls down my face thinking how much I fancy that.