Another rise, another fall. Another chance to lose it all.

Another high, another down, another story to come along. 

‘Another rise, another fall’ – Miami Horror.

I had a great night last night. December 4th 2017; great wine and even greater company, despite the depression and longing to have someone a little extra special to hold through it all. That night felt like Christmas.

It felt like family, placing the lads in the inappropriate uncle roles, or as coked up sesh gremlins. The girls cooked for us all for the first time ever and it was absolutely perfect. I would not have changed a thing (except perhaps to have more of it). I got numb on the rosé and sang a few songs, I did the Macarena in public and I genuinely laughed a lot. Eating around a table as a family of friends that barely even know each other was truly the closest thing I have had to a Christmas in too long. Hopefully on the 25th with my actual family, I can do my best to bring us all together again. But until then, Christmas has been and gone. I have thankful for the company and laughs. I had a lingering tear in my eye all night even as I retired to my room and wrote a draft of this. The little things mattered.

For our secret Santa, the first one of my life, my best mate from class accepted me for not having my gift on the day. It is either flying or coming on a boat from Hong Kong and once the jokes were out of the way, he actually said to me that it must actually be a pretty damn good present if it was specially ordered for him; and it is. The man is very passionate, he shared with us all that he has had sex to Shrek 1, 2 & 3! And his present, wherever it is in the world, is a huge green t-shirt with Shrek’s face plastered on it to fuel all of his memes and quotes for the next century. And he accepts that. Furthermore, to tide him over until then, I bought him a pack of fig rolls (fig newtons to those of you across the pond). He loved them all the same.

And then it came to my gift. I was one of the last to receive one, it came in a tall gift bag, usually designed for bottles of alcohol, cellotaped at the top so no peeking! And the weight was heavy like a much-needed bottle of wine I could certainly do with. Two packets I felt in there too which I figured straight away what they could be. I ripped open the damn cellotape, first time I had ever seen it used to seal a gift bag before, and sure enough it was a second bottle of rosé for the night and yep, two boxes of fig rolls. God damn.

I looked up the table, it had to be a close friend to know and before I assumed anyone else, my eyes locked onto the radiant smile coming from the end of the table. A little ray of sunshine fired into my heart and honestly, no hyperbole or exaggeration, I still had the very same tear writing the draft of this last night all those hours later. The girl, I have talked about her before. I thought I had lost her as a friend. I have felt unable to talk to her because I felt that she was unable to talk to me too. Though as neither of us had said anything for some time now, I guess I got paranoid and twisted that to losing a friend. I was so wrong, of course she was still a friend. I was too blind to see it, too prideful and full of this fear I have been feeling. All night she was sweet to everyone and I feel that she is finally getting it right, she is getting there. I want to be like that, to be seen by someone like that. I want to be that friend that brings a tear to someone’s eye just because they are doing well for themselves. She knew that with that gift, something so simple, non-material, temporal and practical like food and wine could mean so much to me because she remembered what made me happy. I truly was happy.

Then, at the end of the night I stumbled back home and turned the lights off, winded down to some music, grapes and my new favourite emotional drama ‘This Is Us’; I felt no cares for the next day. I wanted to carry on living in yesterday. I had to write about the love I had in my heart last night, for friends that meant so much; friends I had never had before. Even though I only have a few friends and some I struggle to share with, I can at least share laughter and a good night with them. I finished writing the draft at 2:50am, almost 24 hours ago now and it feels like a lifetime ago. I needed to write this as a testament to the proof that love is still in my heart, despite whatever I may tell myself.

Today has been a tough. No hangover unlike my unfortunate friends however, depression has really hit home again. I skipped lectures, woke up in the afternoon, failed at archery again and let my anger get the better of me, I almost hit a wall. Fuck knows I wanted to hit something. This anger never left either and even with all of the love and happiness from yesterday, all good things must come to an end. A story about me has crossed to the lips of a friend that wants to talk to me about it and I really, really don’t. I dread facing him. I have a really shitty assignment due in two days. People are beginning to leave university for the holidays and I just do not know what to do with my life any more. I will take yesterday as a victory but today has been a defeat. And again, I fight looking at the old picture on my phone to give me strength.

Much love from your friend,

Alex. 

Do I deserve a fairytale? Or do I deserve to fail?

Everyday
when I wake up,
there’s nothing to say
other than I’ve fucked up.

My parents
push me away.
It makes no sense
for me to stay.

I was never enough
for my old best friend.
A diamond in the rough
I never meant to offend.

The sad girl who pulled my strings
like a puppet master behind the scenes,
only gave me a love that stings.
Once we were but innocent teens…

The girl with the broken halo
was a devil in disguise.
I am trapped at an all time low,
tell me, where are the highs?

The girl next door
broke my frail heart.
Battered and sore,
I survived another failed start.

I clutch my phone
waiting for a human connection.
But in the friend zone,
I continue to wait in anticipation
for a ring tone
to take away my attention
from the dust and bone
of my dark depression.

Looking at your face, your hair,
I sink into another bottle;
my life going no where,
both hands firmly off the throttle.

Tonight, my time I spend
hung up looking at old pictures of an ex.

Much love from your friend,

Alex. 

“All day long I think of things but nothing seems to satisfy. “

Paranoid, Black Sabbath. My dad would totally approve this choice; though the lyrics stand out to me more than the genre and time it is from. I need someone to stop me thinking about everything else. I spoke too soon about not feeling depressed any more. I knew that feeling was still there and it always will be. However, I had such a long break from it that I believed things could change. And still, I have even less friends than I had at the start of the year. I get avoided and ignored even more now, I seriously did not think that was possible

The girl I met on the dating app over a month ago now, she continues to pine for me when I have told her twice now that I have no feelings for her. She makes me feel guilty for it by not talking to me about anything else. Out of the blue, she cries out for contact with me to only break it off again; she is not someone I need in my life.

Speaking of which, my second ex, the one that gave me massive trust issues by having a secret boyfriend, I still see her around and she looks so sad. I see the same hopelessness and mess that I see in myself. Her new relationship with an older man is ruining her and her friendships. Despite having a deep hate in place for her after everything she did, I feel a need for a connection with her again. I want to fix her, like I wanted to before, though a broken person cannot fix someone else. I would hate myself forever if I made a connection with her again. I know that it is the idea of her that I want, rather than the girl herself. I owe it to myself to stay away, I just need someone to keep me away.

Loneliness swells in my mind again; I kept it away as long as I could but finally, it has burst through the gates, flooding me again. I continually realise the people who slip away out of sight. The jealousy of the happy people has come back, anger and frustration is back, a need for connection back. One of my friends, the one that confessed their feelings for me and then agreed we should stay friends has of course, been avoiding me now. The ancient friend zone that really ends in no communication whatsoever. We talk a fraction of what we used to and at social events, I might as well be on another planet. Last night, we spent two hours in the same room celebrating a friend’s birthday and she did not look at me once. Without even needing to asked, of course copius amounts of alcohol was involved, any excuse to drink. Today she apologised like usual for not acknowledging my existence (her words), though what use is it apologising for an action you consciously repeat again and again with no real remorse? Ignoring me has become a habit for her, just like it has for me and so many others. I do not utter a word to the girl next door any more, I only feel angry and jealous when I see her talking to other guys. It is unhealthy but I think we have established by now that I am not exactly ‘healthy’.

And now my flat mate from last year, he has found a girl he loves online from the local area. They talk on the phone religiously, go on dates and he cannot leave his phone alone. Of all the people, this guy gets to be happy and I, as egotistical as it sounds, get told I am attractive and intelligent and all that meaningless shit. After a life time of getting shat on, where is my justice? I think because I am conceived to be attractive, people with a similar low opinion of themselves either put you out of their league or loathe you for not feeling the same way back. While I have had to turn down a few girls recently and I have no right to complain about being lonely as of late, all of them say they want to be friends and then recede back to wherever they came from and they do not actually want to get to know me after all. This lonely virgin stays this way because he does not really know what he wants, other than love and someone to be there. So far, people have been there, but only with an ulterior motive and once it becomes known, they leave me again. This night is another one without anyone to talk to again except from myself on this blog. Pity me.

Much love from your friend,

Alex. 

 

A month later, I find myself in a strange place.

Since I last put my thoughts into perspective, my life has barely changed for the better. I have grown distant to most of the few in my life and I have no love to speak of. I have worked out once in the gym in three weeks and I am back to feeling apathy again; passive, in every aspect of my life. On a positive note, I would not say that I am depressed anymore, just lost now. I think I have come to terms with all the shit in my life now. 

I have spent the past three weeks with no feeling. I find myself able to laugh at jokes, socialize, get up and do things that need doing. However, with some things if it is on a deadline I still leave it till the last-minute. I have put off writing for so long now too as you may have noticed, just because I cannot figure out what to write with all of this indecision and passive feeling. My life is incredibly uneventful lately, with lectures at university in the day and then Netflix or Xbox at night, occasionally a social outing to dinner or shopping. It feels like I kind of have nothing to say (though I know that is not true) and I question whether if even I want to listen any more.

As far as my depression is concerned, I have not felt a low mood in almost a month now. You may hate me for saying this but I miss that feeling, I miss that depressed, brooding feeling in which I had a reason to not go out and drink, furthermore I felt special in a way, like I had a story. Though now without feeling affected by my past so prominently like before, I feel even more invisible, still weak and bored of everything I guess, probably because of the lack of motivation. I still feel no happiness from my life and I do not fear dying similarly to before, it is just that I do not get stuck on low feelings anymore; I find myself able to move on quickly from a dark thought. They are still there every day, they just don’t rule me anymore.

I am trying to be happy, move on from past love and scars. I met another girl on an online dating app since what happened around Halloween. Literally that girl will haunt me till my dying breath, it was just such a weird experience meeting her. I feel like a natural-born ginger haired girl is bad news to me from everything I have learned in the past year. Despite everything we had in common, they have both turned out to break me beyond what I thought was humanly possible. So I am treading extraordinarily carefully now and still nothing else has changed, I remain invisible and unimportant no matter what I do. Talking to the new girl went absolutely no where and literally all she says is hello once a day on Snapchat so she can get a streak. The background to the snaps are black and I do not understand why she even bothers saying morning to me. That will probably be the only ever conversation between us. Hence, I am going to carry on moving along.

Finally for these past three weeks, I made a new friend amongst all the others I lost. About six of my friends have stopped talking to me, all different people, without explanation have metaphorically walked away. It feels good to make another friend but I cannot live my life making and losing friends every month. I seem to lose everyone I touch at some point, both in love and friendship. This cursed feeling still seems so vivid in my mind. I want to stay friends with this new person, though a self-fulfilling prophecy can have a habit of coming true if you believe it. This cursed feeling affected this new friendship in that she expressed her feelings for me, of which I suspected though I do not feel the same. I said I respected the honesty and so I told her I believe we should stay as we are, we do not need to change. And nothing feels changed when we talk online, I just hope nothing at all changes because I do not think I would be able to take it. I need everyone I can get my hands on, even if the grains of sand slip through my fingers, I still desperately try to hold on.

Much love from your friend,

Alex. 

 

“I’m cleansing my soul of addiction for now ’cause I’m falling apart.”

‘Passionfruit’ by Drake, one of the many too true songs filling my mind when it’s too dangerous to think my own thoughts. Love died in me again; I don’t function anymore. I lied to myself that I could get better and be human, but I just can’t. 

Someone saw my mask, that I was cool and too hot to be single… a few hours later she walked out the door. She caught a glimpse at who I really was and she left. I have been telling myself since before this blog that there is someone out there, that love will make things better, but I am so broken and blinded that I have no idea what is best for me. I am still doomed to a cycle of self-destruction that no matter what I do, I always crash and burn.

Knowing now that love is not what I need nor what anyone needs from me, that I am not capable of love or stability, I don’t know what to do anymore. I have no clue what I should be doing with my life, no next step to improve. I have no passion left in my course, no friends to be there for and no love in my life; I am shattered into a million pieces that will never fit back together.

I want to drink unholy amounts of vodka and wine, I want as much McDonald’s as I can humanly stomach, cake, chocolate, depressing and angry music, a bed to hide in and just cry. I wish that I could just cry… though my tear ducts feel empty since the last time. And instead I am left with no outlet for these vile emotions. They only fester and bottle up inside. My previous post about taking it slow and clinging to that ray of hope feels so distant, I don’t even remember writing it.

I am stuck on songs like ‘Bad Habit’ by The Kooks, ‘Billie Jean’ by Michael Jackson, ‘Happy Song’ by Bring Me The Horizon and ‘You Only Live Once’ by The Strokes. ‘Bad Habit’ describes a girl looking for a stranger to love and she just can’t get any, despite all she does. ‘Billie Jean’ is about a crazy girl (of which I have had my unfair share) that will make up anything to stay in his life and he just wants nothing to do with her, be a man and don’t go around breaking young girl’s hearts. ‘Happy Song’ defines my life in that everything is fucked, I am alone and depressed though if I sing along to a happy song, everything will be just fine. And finally, ‘You Only Live Once’ means something different to me every time something goes wrong in my life. Right now, I am the ‘people’ he is describing, I seem so very nice but inside I feel sad and wrong. I can’t see the sunshine and I feel like someone should just shut me up. I cannot listen to any other songs, nothing else feels real, I just need some truth and something to fill my mind, take me away from everyone else.

Much love from your friend,

Alex. 

Je suis garbage.

I am slowly healing, making purposeful progress, legs shaking every step of the way.

Since my last post, I have found someone new and made a new friend too. I still struggle with everyday life and these new faces in my life, though I continue to try to remain hopeful, positive, care for myself and do what is best for me no matter how shitty things get. I do my best to get things done and be responsible, but the truth is I still feel broken, unstable and irreparably scarred from the past.

This new girl, I met her on Tinder and she is exactly like me; we love video games and movies to escape into, we get our jobs done, we can be a little shy, we fidget, we like random abstract stuff and we are both awkwardly tall but not too tall. We never had an awkward moment when we met and we were together for twelve hours the first time we had ever met. We laughed, we ate, we binged watched Netflix and we held each other, pretty romantic and my heart had not beated like that in a very long time. Though in that silence and dark as we watched the TV, I started to think about the past when I had felt ike this and the consequences and all that insecure horror. I never acted upon that horror, like I never freaked out or got weird, my mind just wandered and since she left, I cannot tell how I feel about her. I have no idea what my feelings are for her and you would probably say ‘well after meeting her once of course you won’t know how you feel about her! See each other again and then make a judgement at least.’
However, in the past, if there was a spark, I knew it black and white and clear as day. Though that night, I could not tell and it scared me. I don’t want to feel nothing for this girl as she is pretty cool and stable (and stable is what I need right now). Do I want someone a little less similar to me and perhaps someone of a different shape and size? Was it her specifically that made my heart beat or was it the fact a girl was in my room and wanted to hold me? I have had time to think and my breathing is back to normal now; she did make me happy and of course I will see her again. I think I could be happy with her, I just feel like maybe I could be happier… unfortunately I don’t have the luxury to live that happier life, I think I should settle for what I have. Then, maybe one day that could lead to that happier life.

Though there are cracks in the porcelain and I am still broken. I may hide it well but the cracks are still visible if you look hard enough. The girl next door, every time I see her around my mind retreats into itself and screams rejection and insecurity.  The glow still exists in her eyes and hope is a ray of sunshine over her head. Her voice is still as angelic and soft as ever. However she no longer looks or laughs with me, she said she wanted nothing to change between us and now she avoids me. The age-old curse still haunts me in the form of her; lost love that still stings. I feel like maybe one day she could change her mind and she would look for me… but I know I am torturing myself. It just is not fair; life is not fair.

Faces of those before still haunt me. The day the angel fell and I saved her from ending her life, every memory and raw emotion still bleeds from me like a fresh cut. I still get hung up on her and regret it. I wish none of this had ever happened and yet it has, I should just deal with it. Although when your life is such a frail mess, it is so incredibly difficult to make sense of it and power through it.

A show that I recently began on Netflix, ‘Crazy Ex-Girlfriend’, is surprisingly perfect. The musicals every episode I thought I would hate actually make me feel lighter and enjoy music in a new way. The main character is a total mess and funny and ambiguously attractive (like me, some times you cannot tell if they are kind of attractive or not), their life is one huge mess and surprisingly feels similar despite the worlds away we are to each other in reality. A show made in such an on the nose, American up-beat way would never normally appeal to me, however no matter the shit that Rebecca Bunch goes through, no matter how ridiculous or seemingly life-changing, it kind of always works out in the end and has a silver lining. I think I need to remember that, I think I need to remember to be fearless too and not care what others think, not even those that love me because they will aways judge you the most and you need the power to rise up above them on your own. And I think I can, I have done it a lot recently, I have stood up to people and become the real messy adult I was born to be; I drink, I don’t care about doing presentations or meeting new people, I can get up for a laugh at karaoke, I can hide away and stuff my cake hole with junk food! But most importantly, I can embrace my emotions. I think I just need to find a way of living now rather than surviving. I need a road to recovery. I need a helping hand to guide me through this swamp of feelings.

Much love from your friend,

Alex. 

Crazy ExGF

Another week suffered with yet another week around the corner. How many more must I endure?

Finally, this week is over… and my life feels over too. I feel like I have to begin everything again. I feel that I need to change my whole life, my appearance, my friends, my career, my home. If I had the money I would leave the country and start again somewhere else, change everything. Instead, I am chained to this life and this image, these friends and this career. The little I have remains here and I am stuck to this life; I have no escape from this hell. 

I lost my love this week, my friendships feel further strained, my reputation feels further shattered; eight months since this misery began and I feel further from progress than I ever have been. Every single day I look for a sign, I look for purpose and I look for a reason to live. After losing all hope for the umpteenth time now, I do not know how I can carry on until old age with all of this despair hanging over me. Young I may be, but broken I feel and lost. I just need love. I need someone to see me. I need someone to touch me and make me feel real, alive. The only thing to touch me is the bitter embrace of alcohol. Every bottle I empty fills me up for just a little while; it’s better than being an empty vessel.

I am losing my grip on my anger too; I had issues when I was a kid but over time they went away and all of my anger was gone. Now, that anger is back tenfold and I have no outlet for it, all I want to do is take it out on those around me. It’s an insatiable thirst to want to be violent, destroy something, cause pain. I cannot take any more pain but I certainly feel like giving it. I come so close to punching a hole in the wall, in the door, anything nearby, I want to lose this emotion inside of me. It makes it so impossibly difficult to talk to anyone or look through my own eyes when all I see is red.

Taking note of all of that feeling, I am expected to live through another week that I do not doubt will be more of the same bullshit. I will lose more hope, be lied to, alienate people and ultimately hate myself more. And what other choice do I have? Nothing in my calendar resembles any change, just another shitty week of lectures, seminars and social events that I have not been invited to but I will be eventually out of pity. Great. Can someone please tell me why i put up with all of this? Give me one good reason to suffer.

When I think about death every day, it is not like how most would imagine it or would say that they have thought about. I picture death like the wardrobe to Narnia. If you are familiar with the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis, picture the children and their journey into the wardrobe. Their life is not particularly eventful, ideal or happy. Though when they are faced with a portal to another world, they quickly abandon their old life for a second chance and the possibility that they could be happy and simply live. They bear no consideration that leaving their old life could mean that they never go back and everyone they knew would be gone, they would instead be happy to be somewhere new. That is how I feel about death. Death would be the portal to somewhere new where I have a chance at being happy and you never know what is on the other side until you try it. Death is after all the one unknown we cannot explore in a lifetime. But given my current life, I am more than willing to give it a go, see what really happens when you die. There are countless religions and beliefs, it would be nice to see who got it right, if anyone did at all. Perhaps I could see if I got it right about what is beyond. It sounds exciting. Life could never offer me such an opportunity.

Therefore, death will be what I dream about until either one day it comes for me or perhaps one day something good happens and gives me a reason to live. I do not fear death, I only fear suffering.

Much love from your friend,

Alex.