Too much thinking

about thinking feeling drinking. Done.

This beat just came on and made a lot of sense because I can see you In a one night stand up, fool around in a room so small.

I hear this a lot: It's not you it's me

It's an odd feeling to watch one part of your life soar beyond expectations and the other part of your life go down the toilet. It's odd because you realize how well they balance each other out. You can't be happy about the good or devastated by the bad. You're just sort of there while it all happens.

These past six or so months have been hard. I'm not sleeping. I'm not eating well. And whenever I tell myself, "Self, you can't keep doing what you're doing. Something's got to give," I'm met with all this hostility. Like I'm angry with myself for having limitations. Like I'd spit in my own face if I could.

I thought I had gotten rid of that part of myself, the part that always shows up to kick me in the proverbial gonads whenever something bad happens. For the past couple of years, ever since I realized just how cruel that dark passenger could be, I've made a conscious effort to be kind to myself. Or as my therapist put it, to not say anything to me that I wouldn't let someone say to a close friend.

And yet, here I am, cowering down inside of myself, afraid to say things like "I'm tired" or "it's OK" or "I know things are bad, but I should work through them anyway" because I know that when I do, that other side of myself will zoom in like the Tazmanian devil, spouting off all these things about how I'm stupid and ugly and worthless and nothing will ever be right again because the common denominator in all of them is me, and I always find a way to screw things up.

So mostly I just don't do anything. And then I feel stressed because I should be doing something. And then I feel guilty because I should have done something months ago but didn't, and now I don't even know where to start or how to apologize or any of that stuff.

So I do more of nothing, and the cycle starts all over again.

Things will get better, though. They always do. I just have to wait for the storm to pass, is all.

We should have been dancing

I still keep looking back at you like you are an answer to that hit I once took too many times by choice and blind blissful ignorance, a bliss so tender and long phased by. That gleam in your eye I once knew and grew to like after reels of rolled out words, where whisper could not be heard only meaning in your whys.

There's a precious moment you get which we had and we had a lot of the time. I got tucked in at night with you curled around me I still thought you were blind. A sloppy sound of a gruff and grunt where small circles covered the white. There need not be sun If I were to be around you.

I'm still angry at the waste. I'm still angry at the waist. I'm still angry at the weight.

We should have been dancing, it's what we did best. Our time, our right time when most made sense. I think that room became the hopeless place we trapped ourselves behind face. 

You wanted me to call you. You don't surprise me anymore and that isn't polite. I might eat my own hand if this doesn't stop, if the good gets angry and it doesn't stop. What if you don't stop? Baby what if you don't stop and you think too hard and the vein comes back and...

A night when you get back it builds and feel like a fool for telling because what else is there left if you don't get release. Those times when you just got everything we synched. We got silly and laughed and I write this for you because you knew all along, as we both did. With change there's always an end.

What's so special about me I'm ordinary and your too insistent

What's wrong with you
What is it you want
What's so special about me
I'm ordinary
And you're too insistent
You are too insistent
Don't you stop
An instant
I know not
Why won't you let me go
Why won't you let me go now
Just let me grow
I'm still a tiny toad
What's wrong it's been so long
Is it me you're after
Days and nights, and light-years
And still no disaster
You are so persistent
Oh we're so persistent
Should we act like people
Who say they have
Seen it all they're so
Indifferent, I know not
Why won't you let me know
Why won't you let me know now
People they want to know
I'm such a tiny toad
Why won't you let me know
Why won't you let me know now
They want to know
I'm still a tiny toad
Why won't you let me know
Why won't you let me know now
People they want to know
I'm such a tiny toad
Why won't you let me go
Why won't you let me know now
I'm such a tiny toad
Why won't you let me know now

Adventure

Very indifferent

And it's very weird. Almost like I am in a box only bothered by physical movement and being told they can't read me.

It's like I can't even shout. My sounds only whispers alongside a head throb and glaring eyes. Even silence is nice music. I miss you. Amongst the weird I could write where as now there is hover.

Can I bash it out? What is there now? My riddle has come back and spiral has stopped which has never happened before. Ever. I think I need a day to sit. To just sit and stare at my walls and write and listen to sounds so beautiful they feel like finger tips on piano keys, lightly soothing my head. Walks where footsteps feel like pretty patterns mind and feet.

I can see why people put themselves in writing boxes, trapped in a valley with air for comfort. I don't even make sense either. An aura I have been told, but all I see is the red of my lipstick and doe eyes with question marks, or at least a pause button. I like that he doesn't understand me.

There is still a missing. and that missing is you.

What I felt two months ago seems to have been placed in my box, compartmentalised where the frames are shadows so grey I can't see in to even remember. Lets hope I don't create a mine field in order to find out.

I think I need to explore you now. Thank goodness dancing is the same.

45 minutes before I have to go, I wish those minutes were longer. Make a plan make a plan make a plan. I ate too much to find flavour but really the flavour got me, there is too much choice and that makes it the hardest for I like to go out and seek. Is what I seek solitude or souls?

I think I'm calling out for you. You, not him. Yes you, the forbidden. Because you understand the journey too. Asshole.

"Tonight we going hard. just like the world is ours. we're tearing it apart. you know we're superstars, we are who we are. We dancing like we dumb. Our bodies going numb. We'll be forever young. You know we're superstars we are who we are"

You think you're confused! I am very confusing. What does she have, that I don't? It's not even between two now, is it?

I'm different now and that world will never be discovered again, that acid taste balloon eyes and tingly spine. I need to know more.

I need to go out. "we found love in a hopeless place". Because one nice moment keeps you coming back for more. And I think I may break him. I still need to make my own colour, because essentially I lost two best friends last year.

Just you wait

I need to write soon, I will. Just you wait.

Myth of man pain

Studies suggest women feel more pain than men. HA! Any man complains now of feeling more pain, is a mince....

A bit harsh, but there are no excuses now!

Best for you

Polyamory article

I can't comment yet, as my 'polyamory' lifestyle was very mixed and so up and down there is still a level I need to reach in order to begin an opinion.

Read this, and see what you think.

Footstep papers

Today at Bank tube station road side, it was scattered in pages of white A4. I knew it had been a windy day, my corrupt mind at first deviled in bankers loosing their papers in the wind-it seemed everyone else may have thought so too as people were picking up pages as they walked through, like they had caught a treasure no-one else may have. Was it a rubbish truck, though why else would only just papers fly out?

I crossed the road, and crouching on the pavement bend was a courier, and there were his papers. My past experience exists of reception work and instructing couriers in which floor to go to. I felt this guy's pain. He was crouched on the floor, some papers held in a pile whilst passers by handed him the few they scrambled to reach. Most of the sheets were ruined already. I found this scene slightly enchanting. Perhaps it grew like colour in a City which almost always looks particularly grey. I wish those papers were leaves; the City has become a new home for me but still there is always something slightly a miss. When I leave and see the green again I feel a hell of a lot better. For a City which always seems the same view, the destruction of paper made it more interesting. Other than the usual coffee cup mess, we saw errors of those who build that place, of those that strut around and bump into you instead. I saw the error of the courier whose papers fell-was it really his fault? Who knew. I wonder how important those papers were, and whose life would be affected by them turning up late. I'm sure most would assume it would be the courier to blame-I hope there was no specific company deadline for those notes.

I walk the same route everyday, whether it's going to work in the morning or walking home post shift. That journey has grown old on me now and what makes still worthy for me, is my music. I hear a lot of people who wish time to pass by quickly, those that wish they 'could be there' within a click of a finger. But who would we be if we didn't have such time luxury? We would always be rushed and without a second to ponder-most of the time people complain they have no time to rest.

I used to walk around the City with someone else, they were slightly taller and more suited than me. He wore a white or blue shirt with simple tie and shoes. I became introduced into a life far beyond what I knew, in fact I still am living this life far beyond myself now because deep down I'm still trying to work it all out and settle down. My very close involvement with one person has shaped me forever, and the pace we had on our walks and our time traveling felt almost like no time travelled at all. Everything around us became our world to experiment with. It was almost perfect.

For me the morning has always been my favourite time of the day, and he seemed to quite enjoy it too. On our way to work we would hold hands and marvel with our surroundings; brick tunnels, coloured club lights at 8am, silly expressions on passers by. The best part was the consistency in talking about adventure. I think the biggest downfall was that I always wanted to explore him, where as he wanted to explore everyone else as well. Our relationship became patterned with a series of tease and false hope as elements of our lives tempted our will to carry on.

My biggest lesson yet is that instincts are best. I always had my instinct about this relationship but I chose to ignore it. We choose to be ignorant if we desire so.

I thought he knew best, I looked up to him. How he behaved made sense to me, I suspect it’s because he was how I wanted to be as well. He seemed sure.

And so, it all became such a big mess. Once the essence of rejection starts you'll start punishing that person forever, because after all how could you ever trust them? It was then that my instinct said carry on, everybody deserves another chance, because after all in the past I have been number one to cut throat writes them off as, they aren't the right person for you. Then, I still thought he was and I carried on against my doubts. Blind. Love is blind. Vulnerability is blind I should say. This boy broke up with me after I had been told my mother is dying. Was dying.

"she's not comfortable with it, she's not slept for three nights. The thought that she hasn't slept for three nights, I can't put her through that again"

I didn't get angry. I didn't shout. I just took it. I sat and cried and I just took it. It felt like bricks. It felt like heavy lead. It felt like someone had grabbed my mind and pressed something sharp against it. Is that what people do when they are so happy beforehand, perhaps its naivety. And so, I let him choose. I let him choose the other woman in the open relationship whilst I waited. I had to wait two weeks once he had gone on holiday with her to see if he could change her mind. I've been told most girls would have ran a mile from that situation then, but I didn't. So why? Love? I was just a mug. A fool. What made him different to anybody else? I think only he knows that...


My City walk for a few weeks after, became like mud. Slow, stewed and ill. It was like I were walking through sick. If those City papers were there on those days I felt my worst, I wonder if that mess could have seemed like my first warning. It was all a mess, and I chose to ignore it.

Makes me wanna cry

Reading this, after everything, I still feel like an idiot for getting upset about things. Alice is dying, and reading her blog really inspires me. I think what I like about it the most are her little extra comments about her mum and dads behaviour, how her mum doesn't seem to like to do 'nothing' and how her dad always works. I'm sure through all of it, they too are trying to keep sane whilst their daughter is dying in front of their eyes. I have my life in front of me now, and when in the right frame of mind I will enjoy it and spend less time stressed. I have to, otherwise that is just life failed it self.

I'm sat up in bed after having a blissful lie in til 9am. I've been waking up at 5.30am this week for work and my routine got into a shunt of falling asleep by 9/10pm every night. But hell I do feel re-charged.

Yesterday myself and Hazal went to sign our lives away for flat payments-I don't know how she has put up with me. Money seems to trigger my stress and I panic and think all is finished, it's because there is just me now to support me. No base to go to if all else fails, because, well, those words aren't entirely true but it's a case of I don't even know where I would want to be if I ran out of money and had to start over again. My instincts would say disappear, travel, I might even go on my own. I remember someone had their boyfriend (now ex) say to them 'One day I make just take off and travel and not tell anyone'. Can you imagine-everyone would think he were dead! In my instincts to travel alone, well, I know there is something in us that gets overwhelmed with our surroundings and we urge to just take off and screw everyone else and how they would feel. I seem to get overwhelmed with my head, and writing this now, I am writing before I take what I need to, keep going I suppose, to help everything seem less scary.

I'm in shock, I know. I'm in shock and don't want to believe it again. It's the start of a year where OMG she's not here. She really isn't. I can't even look at the photos for long on my desk at work because mums face appears with a smile. I feel burning in my eyes now for writing that and I wish I could beat her into life again. I remember her lying on the bed, her plastic hands with my nails digging in, wake up wake up for gods sake just wake up. I hated that oxygen machine. That extra breath which sounded like mum waking. Nope. Just false air.

I hate hospitals now. Well, may be not hate, they bring back strange memories of a time I feel sick and stale. I once walked past one to feel closer to mum, even though the hospital was in London I think I just wanted to find a place I could feel near to her. Perhaps I should create a mum diary- i'm still avoiding her pictures or even talking to her in my head. I must have a blood test soon and I'm avoiding going. I ended up in a hospital several months back after mum died because my friend fainted late at night, low blood pressure-a&e at 10pm with weekday drunks and slow dance doctors. I remember the Nurse manager with skinny jeans and clip clop shoes, it was better to concentrate on what he was doing instead of looking up. Glaring at me like ha ha was a heart monitor and pulse machine. I hate those beeps. I remember the countdown. Ten minutes was all it took. If a person has been stabilised, oxygen tank, heart blocked so there's no blood pumping around to keep warm, drugs like insulin stabbed in to raise levels-that person is just a veg. Robot and cold. It was like a shell was put around my mum just so her body appeared to have colour and once the chemicals stopped, the beeping would start and numbers would fly out of the wall. My nails just pierced harder but nothing came to, except tears and broken hearts and that became the only colour there.

This is disgusting imagery of broken past and tainted future. But we knew it would happen someday. I still can't quite work out what would have been worse, as mum died young and still looking fresh. Her days of suffering could have been dragged out for longer and I know she became impatient with her sit down all day lifestyle. I'm still avoiding the house. I went there last November and felt my most relaxed in a while, though now when I imagine It feels like thorns on my head. I know I will go back, but I'm not ready yet.

Sugar packets

I've finally made use for my 40+ sugar packets I collected from coffee shops in the City of London.

For my porridge at work! -they don't have brown sugar here!

Cut throat

"Cold blooded"... just a little quote full of historic banter.

If I can't say out loud what I feel, I may as well type the drivel. And it's not going to be pretty. I think it all has to come out here, as a log. Regardless of consequences? Perhaps. Who am I protecting really? Because I don't think it's been a case of just protecting me for a long time and that is after all one of my issues, control. It gets a bit silly that, as it just makes me more anxious desire for control. All I ever do on this blog is say some and not reveal all-I have always been told to be more honest and only in emails does it seem to be more true with less walls.

Fuck it. Lets see what happens, it's instinct after all. Come what may.

A start

to plan.

I read this and I know my friend Charlyroo could do with a bit of it! xxx

Saw

By myself to write anything. OOmf talk about motivating...

That white stripes song comes to mind

I made a nice veggie bake last night. It had olives in it. I slept from 9pm and woke at 5.30am. Lets see how today goes and If I can change my brain. I think of my friends who suffer too, there's at least 4. We all know the crazies. I think of structure, the lack of it. I think of Saw. The film. One which shit me up to no good as a teenager. It was the puppet which ruined me, now I think it's the moral. People being punished for cutting themselves into a life of misery. John, takes their lives into his own hands, as he dies of cancer, and highlights the beauty of life by putting those into a really ugly one, all to last no more than minutes in a life or death scenario. On a exagerrated scale, it's what depression feels like-quick decisions in minutes to maintain your existance. Staring out of a bus thinking if you had the balls, what would you do with yourself today? From recent experience I feel like I should know more then anyone about life and its potential; after seeing mum fade and the worn expression on her face from time to time knowing she could see what will. Is. Left behind her. For me, it feels like there is too much time, like this. And then it feels like there isn't any time for anything whatsoever and I am at the end already like a black swarm.

I need to get better at reminding myself of what I have. I sound so ungrateful. My body feels backwards and my head is 2 metres ahead. It's what writing by hand feels like, a page infront of you with your words and your brain racing on ahead-your hand can't catch up with your thoughts.

I think my treatment has become too practical. I'm a master at avoiding to acknowledge what really is going on. I'm a master at keeping busy, or doing nothing and being a heavy weight champion trapped. I'm a master at feeling disappointed by a lack of surprise, something out of the ordinary. I know my expectations are too high and depression is pretty selfish at times. But what do I do when I have nothing, and I lay in silence having to face what exists as now. That is the scariest part.

I have my wonders in small things, which sounds contradictory to everything i've just said. But it's those small peaks which define me and my day. This little ball of fire which I carry around all the time, I can't even see it but I feel it and the weight, well... I don't want to give up, I know I don't. I need to get better at reminding myself and telling myself what is there now mum has gone. Change always triggers and I can't get her back, nothing can replace. I'll have to get better at switching off. I will get better instead of snapping at things. I will remember to breathe.

This all feels like a permanent come down. Sinkkkkkkkking, a constant back and forth where your body is telling you one thing yet your brain says another. If there was just a switch to turn it all off, well, that isn't life is it. That is not being human, we can't be robots forever on endless substance and produce. We have to get on with ourselves, it's what we are. This is all becoming a bit of a rant now and you can tell I had a whole dangerous afternoon to myself. It's all ok, it's all going to be ok. I just don't believe that, yet.

I seem to have a problem

With kit kats and veggie bakes. I'm addicted.

YUM!

Balancing my vegetable needs and chocolate kicks. haha

I'm not surprised!!!...

British diet is lacking fruit and veg. No? Really?!

I'm not surprised at all! Most of the time I see people have a diet based on refined carbs, caffiene and fats (sugars).

There's an easy rule to go by if ever in doubt, for each meal have at least half of your plates worth as fruit/veg.

Simples.

Glazed saturday

Glazed Saturday wet window fresh. I'm glad its got a bit colder, I've missed that bit of oomph freeze.

Today I start my creative writing course, 'ExcIIITE'!!! And then after, I meet a lovely someone for a dinner date. Things generally are flowing a bit better and work is going well. I'll work on trying to relax and having more energy; last time I had no energy...well it led to me being ill and freaked me out a lot. A disgusting time of my life-it wasn't forever, but it has a lasting effect after.

I've been told to try a regular bed time. I haven't slept well for the last 11 years because my brain likes to spiral, so my challenge is this week (it's meant to be for 7-14 days), to not get into bed until I'm very very tired. If I can't sleep, I must get up and walk about and do something even if it's up until 2am. It's going to be interesting considering I'll be up at 5.30am this week for work. But, I have felt better before after 3 hours of deep sleep compared to 5 tossing and turning and having strange dreams.

Most people could rely on caffeine, but I'm meant to be cutting down as my iron intake was so low my levels dropped to 3 instead of being in the 70 range. So, coffee to a minimum, lets see how stimulant less life is, dealing with insomnia.

My tasks this month, because I must always have a plan:

Kick estate agents arse
Work on sleeping pattern
Begin to pack! (and cut down stuff)
Run and toning exercises (need to get rid of that silly side squidge so I don't look too much like a lava lamp)
Food diary-banning bread the way to go?

Oh yeah, and working on relaxing!!!!!!!!!!

RMM results General mood test

Rate my mood results:

Has gone up from 2 to 6 points. Results out of ten.

YAY!

GAD-7 Anxiety mood test

Anxiety went down 3 points. Results out of 21.

Since September 2011. Test repeated twice.

Urgh.

Could be worse...

PHQ-9 Depression mood test

Have gone down from 22 to 21/20 since September 2011. Ratings out of 27.

I did the test twice.

RMM results

Rate my mood results:

Has gone up from 2 to 6 points. Ratings out of ten since September 2011

YAY!

GAD-7

Anxiety went down 3 points.

Since September 2011.

Urgh.

Could be worse...

Man whore

Interesting doc, of what i've watched so far...

Ten mins in, i'll see how I feel in 50 mins

OMG!!!

Flat offer got accepted, I'm moving in with Hazal-one of my best friends.

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

:D

Break

I need to learn from this

'That girl's gonna die on our carpet'

I need to write this post with music, just let me get my headphones...

scramble scramble... ! oh shit nearly fell off the bed...leans over and...

aha! Sorted, now time to write. Bliss.

There are always words going around my head like some catherine wheel which won't go off. It keeps spin spin spinning and never getting quiet. My head is one of those things which can be a burden and gift-without it I wouldn't be me now and I quite like my life now, I wouldn't be me otherwise.

Last year was agony. I spent this last weekend half in agony and half in pleasure of happiness-finally, with someone as well who makes it right. It's a relief, a comfort, a knowing-the reassurance all along which confirms gut instincts-they are in your gut for a reason! It's so nice to be a part of something which isn't worthless energy. All for nothing now and I feel like i've lost out, but only in my mind. A life living for someone elses insecurities and developing my own.

Our experiences structure the way we think, there are people who remark on my attitude-I know full well if I didn't have that-I'd squalor. There have been times when I have been sooooooooo blind, I disgust myself at being so stupid, and that is my woe right now. Cunt.

Now, I just want to be left alone. All bad can go and fuck itself. The ironic part, we fuck the bad-we make situations as they are and we make them bad, our minds make them bad. The situations we get ourselves into, all that makes them bad is yourself; our thoughts, our guilt, our anger. We make particular situations bad and we make other situations happy. After all not every pleasure is the same for everyone else.

The things i'm excited about... It's finally come to the time when I can move in with one of my best friends, we have chosen an area away from where I am now and I'm so excited to start a fresh. Too many heavy grotesque memories here-they only scrub the good ones away.

I'm involved in a relationship which finally I can feel good about myself in. A love over three years denied. My instincts have always been right.

Then, there are those moments. The ones I had this weekend. Ones where I could cut off my arm and forget my lungs and see a thousand things. Those moments where all seems like death and pain and destruction. It's the ugliest world I see, this sickness, this-self torture.

It's like bleeding eyes, bleeding mind, living a death as everything becomes about screaming silently and treating everything you love with detest. You treat what you love badly because you strive so much to get happy, everything has a fault to pick on and all you want it to do is improve. You want to take yourself away and shut yourself off from the world incase you ruin everthing else around you and that would be worse and probably the thing to kill you off, to kill yourself off. If you can't love you then you can't love another and the life of no love ain't worth living at all. And i've been involved in that. Both ways. Two people doing the same to another, it really isn't nice.

I don't regret, I just get rid. You could say I could have got rid earlier-but then that wouldn't have been giving my instincts a chance which always said, there was hope. But who was I kidding, only me! Only myself and my foolish thoughts for one to see what I have and still feel about everything that surrounds me. It isn't all ugly yet as much as I make it that way. The every day, or weekly yo yo is so so tireing it is enough to make you want to give up. There are times when It feels like last september just as mum died and I felt like I had nothing to live for anymore. I don't know if broken hearts can ever be healed, mine doesn't feel like it will ever be. To me, the most important thing is people, healthy people. Health in happiness and love. The happy I have that even convicing someone to have an app in work remain as a cake symbol feels awesome. haha. :) (the boss hasn't queried it just yet...)

I need to work on feeling safe by myself again. For dark rooms and sleeping to not feel like the hardest task to complete. Carrying on seems easy, the fear of it all ending-the carrying on part, is actually the worst thing. Because once you aren't carrying on it's giving up and if you give up you may as well just be dead-though i'm too cowardice for that. I think it's because I know I don't want to die, I don't want to give up. They always say if you really want to do something like that then you will just do it and take yourself away. After all, it's what dad did.

There's always something, that little voice in you which says you don't really want to be doing this, which is the hardest part of the circle if you do do the bad thing because then you beat yourself up for doing it. It's the worst admitting to failure.

My life feels like a mind map and I have to keep reminding myself of what I have to make sure I don't give up because there is always that feeling of constant loss. I have to replace that lost feeling with what I know now and what I have already. This life now is a lot better then what it was last year. My job, my family I feel I have discovered after 11 years of long distance. In one year I feel the most closest to all of then I ever have. My friends-they should be called family really. At times I feel like I have only myself, of course we have only ourselves, but I don't want to just have myself and they remind me of what else is out there. I don't always like myself which is why I find it surprising when others do find me interesting. Self hate is a glorified energy I seem to always try and escape from but perhaps this produces the best me... I have made some of the best friends possible over time and I am so so lucky. There has been too much of my life where I have thought 'where have all the people gone', yet most of the time I had been pushing them away as well. In school, never socialising with anyone else. Being a prick and being the English snob in the Welsh world. I wanted to be different to everybody else, perhaps in the wrong way. I always knew there was never something right but I couldn't put my finger on it. All along, it was me-because I was making the environment wrong, not them.

Most of the time, I feel about 80. I feel like I have no life, that I can't bear to think more than weeks ahead because it is too scary. It's a life without mum. The life I lead now are only more years without her. The life I lead now is more time to face that I have no alive parents. None by blood. It's like loosing your identity, I hate to know what it feels like for those adopted-it's better for those that don't know that they are. One of the hardest things is knowing I can't ask those questions for much longer about my childhood, because who will know what really happened. I have the family neighbours, they and my grandparents probably have the longest tales to explain. 

I don't think there is enough help for people suffering from depression. Tablets numb it all, Valium will chill yourself but it's not dealing with the real issues. The circles your brain manages to get itself into with certain situations. The triggers, the stress, the extra plans, the oh my god I can't cope with this and it's easier to not move at all feelings which keep all that remains as it is. But those remains aren't happy, it's like dust on a carpet forever there but sinking in further-and no-one likes a dirty carpet.

'that girl's gonna die on our carpet.'

Hehe I love that film.

I wish there were safety centres for those feeling too scared by themselves. I was told that If ever in doubt to go to a&e. Can't there be a centre where you don't have to explain yourself over and over, telling someone your story only to further remind yourself of all that you have lost, of all that you are. All that you beat yourself up for, the loath.

After my stressful weekend I'm starting to feel like I can see things a bit clearer now. I know that it's those moments where I'm feeling a bit trapped that needs a little more work on. And now I feel like I have the people around to help me, as well as me helping myself.

'The human race is so puny'

sunday morning, fuzzy and headache from a bit too much wine...

But reading this, is nice.

"The human race is so puny compared to the universe that being disabled is not of much cosmic significance.'

My friend told me to just not think about it. To stop thinking. 

That would be nice.

Thank you for the parties

Rest in peace, Selwyn Baptiste.

I would like

a happier home to create stuff like this!

Favourites

"You think love is simple. You think the heart is like a diagram."

"Have you ever seen a human heart? It looks like a fist, wrapped in blood! Go fuck yourself!"

Sort it out

Now