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,


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,


Friday 13th turned out to be the day from hell, what a surprise.

I woke up relaxed with plans to get things done today. I took things slow, sang a few songs and prepared a few materials for later. I then at 3pm took to the outside world to execute my plan to get things done. Little did I know I would be trapped in a room for five hours with no food, freedom, no escape. 

I went to tick the first task off my list and visit student support like the receptionist had recommended yesterday and I deeply, deeply regret that move. If I had gone against what they recommended then perhaps they could have made my life worse. However, those five hours were total torture and no matter what could have happened if I did not go, approaching the support was a terrible mistake. All calm and neutrality I had before I entered the room quickly transformed into anger and frustration.

I only thought that I was making an appointment to try the university’s counselling again with a different counsellor and suddenly, at the desk I was ambushed by the counsellor and she spoke to me for an hour. I had to discuss all of the shit I had been through and my mood totally died. Telling another stranger what has happened does not improve anything. What’s more is that I do not have to go back to her again. Instead, she called for an ambulance to come out with a mental health team to talk to me because I told them the truth about feeling suicidal. Being honest got me into a place where I never wanted to be and I paid the price. I was not allowed to leave that room for the next three and a half hours. I was given one cup of water and I had to play shitty phone games and listen to music when all I really wanted to do was run out into the fresh air and punch the living shit out of something. This anger has been built up for so long now and I cannot shake it, it feels here to stay until something triggers it.

After the three hours, I stood up and told the lady that I was going to leave. I said I cannot sit here anymore, I had plans today, there is no estimation of when they will be here, I am starving and I am really angry so call it off and let me go. She told me to hold on one more minute to see if she could do something about it and two minutes later, a paramedic, a police officer and a therapist appeared in the doorway. It felt like such a waste because I told the counsellor that even though I have suicidal thoughts every day, I was in no immediate danger today, I just want to leave here and vent and she still called for a God damn ambulance. My life was not at immediate risk and someone could have used that ambulance that needed it.

They sat me down, asked similar questions to what was said earlier and then gave me some options. I am getting professional at telling my life story to strangers, maybe I should bring a script with me next time to save my breath! So the options were counselling at university which was awful last time… go back to my doctor to get either medication or see another counsellor which again, is not happening. These options I have gone through before and they changed nothing. So instead, she told me to call a wellbeing centre in town, the only catch is they only open on weekdays! A team from an ambulance, designed for quick response are telling me to wait three days to do anything about this! Absolute fucking genius, no wonder suicide is the number one killer of men under 40. With this as my only option, I guess I better suck it up. I left that room after the fifth hour and finished the rest of my plans, I devoured a pizza and fucked off to the gym. Now, I am drinking wine and eating cake ironically. Whatever makes me feel better I guess. If two experts in five hours tell me there’s not much else to do then I am going to need all of the pizza, cake and wine I can find to carry on.

It is the job of these professionals to put my wellbeing first and they severely fucked me over today. If I was not the person I was, I could have flipped and done anything in there, that is not how you treat someone with a mental illness. I really feel even less hope than I did before I entered that room. I feel more broken. I feel more doomed to fail my life. Way to go professionals, I would have been better off living my day alone in blissful ignorance and apathy.

Much love from your friend,


Boiling anger again, so nothing is really new.

My shitty mood is written all over my face and controls the way that I move and speak; I want to hit something real hard. 

I bought a new jacket and I have just been owning it with total arrogance to try to be seen by someone, anyone. Though all I get is the same old same old with invisibility to almost everyone around me. The first person to physically put their hand on me in a really long time was the receptionist at my flat to talk to me about my mental health. I feel like that is the last thing I need to be reminded of right now. I want to eat and drink and forget about all of the shit at least for tonight. I have little to no faith in counselling anymore, little to no faith in friends anymore and that’s right, you guessed it, I have little to no faith in love anymore either. I am trapped in this shitty mood and I just want to at least fall into a deep slumber and wake up in five years time; I do not want to live in this current world, it is killing me.

Short and sweet.

Much love from your friend,


I put my heart on the line today and it got crushed. The girl next door obliterated my life.

Obliterated. There is no other word. Glued together with hope, my heart took a long time to piece together to feel strong again and have the courage to enter the ring. Yet again, it got beaten to a pulp and despite my very best efforts, I have failed again. Love evades my heart and leaves it cold. Another girl enters my dreams to haunt me. 

I saw her today walking back to her flat and I ran after her to put my heart on the line. I asked her on a date, just the two of us, to go wherever she wanted. She said ‘sure’ and that she would get back to me on it, tell me what she would like to do. When I left her to the rest of her day, then my heart began to beat; my mind flooded with what could now go wrong between that moment and the next time she speaks to me. One hour later, I received a text message saying that she was not looking for anything right now, that I am a nice guy and that she was sorry. Of course, I have to respect her wishes, I told her that I would see her in lectures and we left it at that. But in reality, without knowing, she reached into my chest and pulled out my still beating heart. The last ounce of hope has now left my body. I feel empty. I feel obliterated. I feel invisible.

At the time of writing this, I have consumed an entire bottle of rosé. I got back from my first session at the gym, felt good, felt angry and now, I crave food to feel whole and alcohol to make it all go away. A year ago, I denied any involvement with alcohol, I actively avoided it. And now, a year later, I find myself with an empty bottle of wine on the carpet of my room. I do not think I care any more. I have given up caring about the virtue of not drinking, the honour in sobriety of being an adolescent that does not touch alcohol. Nobody else cares that I didn’t drink, people only care if I drink with them so I am not boring. It sucks; it is wrong. Sobriety should be promoted and encouraged, but speaking from experience, no one my age gives a shit and they think you are boring. So then you start drinking; then people care even less. A life spent invisible means I can indulge in any self-destructive behaviour I want to, no one is going to stop me. The only obstacle between life and oblivion is myself; over thinking and limitation keeps me zoned in apathy where I still feel no enjoyment from life and I stay away from self-destructive behaviour. If recent events have impressed upon me anything though, it is that I can do whatever to be social, to be a nice guy, to be normal… and that it will ultimately fail. Love avoids me, being nice enables people to ignore me and being social feeds other’s selfish appetites. I feel forsaken, doomed to be alone and a failure, I feel totally ruined and to be told to give life and love time to get better, another chance, is the worst joke ever told.

It now seems impossible to visualize a life beyond a bottle and a room all to my self. The water calls to me again, ever louder, ever stronger. I want to end this cycle of misery. I cannot put anyone else through this torture of experiencing my life. Nobody wants to hear such thoughts, they want somebody that will enable them to feel happy about themselves and have a good time, something that ultimately in this state I am not capable of. I cannot see that I will ever make someone truly happy. I am beyond broken and it would be selfish to inflict my pain upon anybody else now. I contemplate either committing suicide or joining the army, any form of death sentence to find a way out of this cycle. I made a girl today uncomfortable in that she had to reject someone she assumed was a friend. What ensues now will only be awkward for her and the friends that she tells about the ordeal. I guess I will not forget this happened, it will only stack up in the evidence pointing the fact I am cursed to be alone. I do not want to wake up tomorrow but I will. I will open my eyes tomorrow morning with the image of a life failed and I will have to face the girl next door again. I will continue to be that nice guy and carry on wearing a mask that no one can see through. I will make everyone else’s life much easier and carry on the way that I do. So help me someone to make it through this because I do not think I can hold my self back any longer. I feel empty. I feel obliterated. I feel invisible.

Much love from your friend,



“If music be the food of love, play on, give me excess of it.”

This was my first line in Shakespeare’s play, Twelfth Night, and the only line that I remember. I was ten years old and it was nearing the end of my final year at primary school. Back then, music meant little to me; I had a few songs that I loved but did not fully understand and I was oblivious to its importance. Now, nine years later, it is something that I truly love. I have no idea who I would be without it and every single day I must experience it, sing it, feel it. 

When I am listening to a song, no matter the genre, it must evoke a passionate emotion. So if I am listening to rock, it must give me energy, surprise me, have flow and stamina. If I am listening to pop, it must give me breath, light, a feeling of love and lust. If I am listening to R&B, it must have soul, a message, a voice to speak to me. So my collection of music is incredibly varied and growing all the time, though while the range may seem random, it is something inherent in the song, the voice and the meaning that speaks to me and influences me to want more from it; the category of a song means nothing to me.

Sometimes I will love a song because of the speaker. Take Lorde, Tori Kelly or Wesley Schultz from The Lumineers for example. I often write about Wesley in particular because he is a captivating person with stories to tell and a feeling in my mind surrounds him that he is perhaps someone I wish I was like: free, beautiful, humble, talented, heard. I do not feel like that and he is loved too, again a feeling I envy so much. Listening to his songs, the honesty and imagery is something I can relate to and the relationship he has with the listener, I feel like he is telling me the darkness and insecurity in his heart and I wish someone would tell me that so that I could help and pour my heart out back to them.
Lorde and Tori Kelly, they both have unique and incredible voices. They are young and successful, untainted by the modern world and they live their lives as themselves, doing what they love. The fact that Lorde stays true to her roots and Tori stays true to her religion in a globalised and fearful world truly astounds me that they seem unaffected and so strong. Even though they are not in love, they are loved by friends and family with a deep connection to them. I love these people and despite not having ever met them, the honesty, soul and character they each have makes me feel love for them. When I hear their songs, I feel a love and connection with them that I lack in my life.

Sometimes I will love a song for the lyrics. Recently I have been obsessed with the song ‘Hard to Love’ by Calvin Harris and Jessie Reyez. The portrayal of a broken girl who admits her flaws and guilty pleasures, feels ugly and labelled; I feel like that too. I have spoken about how I feel labelled before. I feel invisible and a face that never gets seen, it makes me feel ugly how no one looks. I fall in love too easily and I come broken too.  However, I like to think that I am still a nice person, I don’t like to talk but I love to sing and I don’t smoke but I find myself lately loving drink more and more. I just cannot help myself; if I am not seen then I can do what I want to myself and be myself, no one is going to look. If anyone ever falls in love with me again, I feel like this time it would be for real now that I know who I am and what I need. The real me is on show for anyone to look at and notice. This song just makes me want to be myself even more and dance like a weirdo just like Jessie in the music video.
Countless other songs like Starboy by The Weeknd, A World Alone by Lorde and Somebody Else by The 1975, they speak volumes to me. I feel like when I sing them it’s my voice speaking out the honesty inside. Starboy is my arrogant dark side that likes to come out, A World Alone is my lonely, unique side that likes to hide and Somebody Else is the confused and broken side that haunts me. There are so many more songs with lyrics that feel like my thoughts and when a song can feel like it has come from you, it makes you feel a guilty pleasure for it.
Fancy by Iggy Azalea is another side that I feel and love but we won’t discuss that! 😀

Sometimes I will love a song for the melody. The ability to adapt through a song, change style throughout or surprise with little intricate sounds in places, a symphony can come together to perform the most mesmerizing of songs. The layers to some songs give you a different experience every time you hear them. Take ‘Little Something’ by The Amazons for example; when I first heard it, I was thinking of the bigger picture of the song. I was not focussed on the lyrics or the little sounds, just the feel of the song. The feel was nothing groundbreaking for me though I still liked it. And then with a dozen more plays, over a few weeks it grew on me. The raw emotion in the singer’s voice began to feel incredible, feeling broken, desperate and obsessed. The lyrics were brought to life by that and then with a few more plays, the abrupt change in the middle of the song in which all sound cuts off except for one guitar forced me to feel even more. This song was developing in my mind every time I heard it. Every layer began to come alive and I could understand it, feel it, relate to it. The drums and guitars come together to give me the energy and emotion to sing the song too. The evolution of the sound of the song and the growing intensity of it right up until the end forces me to love it.
I remember the feeling of paranoia towards ‘my little something’ when I was in love before. When I was apart from her, I felt frustrated that I could not be there with her. I wanted to know where she was hiding and running and ultimately, just like it feels in the song, the relationship between the two of us was wrong. Built on one person’s obsession and the other person feeling unsure, hiding and running, the relationship was built to self-destruct. I think of that every time now when I hear it, the girl who self-destructed on me. Many songs make me think of her and what she did, at least now the songs are a constant reminder of how a relationship should not be. No one should be running or hiding, there should be no obssession or frustration. I do not want a little something, I want someone special.

And finally, a song can paint a memory to me. While some are more random than others such as ‘Do You Even Know?’ by Rae Morris makes me think of McDonald’s as it always plays in there, some songs like ‘Starving’ by Hailee Steinfeld make me feel a memory I want to forget. It was a song that I shared with one of my exes and it just cannot be one of my favourite songs any more, I only feel anger. I can try to suppress it so when I hear Starboy for example which I also listened to with her, the memory only adds to the lyrics and feeling of a dark side in me. My love only deepens for it.

So when I listen to music I feel more than just sounds and vibrations; I experience memories, I feel emotion and get chills, I feel an energy and a love inside of me and it is always something pure that comes from music for me. When I sing I feel like I have someone to talk to and be honest with. The perfection in the vibrations resonates with me and gives me a pleasure, like I am one of those people who gets chills from music and singing only makes the emotion stronger. I love music and without it, I have no idea who I would be. “Give me excess of it.”

Much love from your friend,


The Edge of Rejection.

For months I have remained hopeful, given up those hopes and then fallen back under the spell of the girl next door. Some days she smiles and illuminates my world. Other days are cold and she lives her life without even glancing at me. My heart feels cut up into a million pieces after the past and hope is barely cementing it back together. I feel myself slipping away every day. 

Over the Summer we only messaged each other around every three weeks. It felt and still feels teasing talking to her, the way that she is so very positive and human, it captures me every time. Under her spell I feel warm inside and I feel a taste of what it is like to be happy. However, I know that it is not real and it feels more like a dream when I am around her; I think she is clueless to how I feel.

I send kisses now and then and it looks like I am just being polite instead. I ask her if she wants to hang out or come out with me and someone else is always there. It one hundred percent feels like the time to say something to her about this feeling because I cannot stand this uncertainty anymore. Although if it happens that she just does not see anything in me, like maybe she only sees me as a friend and that is it, then I really do not think I could take it. Nothing else in the past three weeks has given me any pleasure, any happiness. Alone, I am barely surviving. With someone to light me up and make happy, I could heal. Rejected, I doubt that I could repair any of what would be left.

I sometimes look at other girls, talk to them and try to just get out there and I am not seen. Obviously to this girl I barely mean a thing so I cannot save my soul for her when there may be nothing to save it for. So to everyone else out there, I am helplessly invisible despite the goodness I show them, despite the way that I move around them. Nothing I say or do sparks an interest to a single soul. When the girl next door messages me, looks at me, speaks to me, I really do feel human again. Nobody else has come close to making me feel human like her. I am a total sucker for love and I know I am naive with my heart on my sleeve, but as a pretty emotional guy I know what I feel and I know what I need. I am hoping that she feels a hope too that I can make come true for her.

I do not want to write about what could go wrong, I have to keep that possibility locked in a steel vault. I only want this to be right and natural. I am seeing her again in two days, though one of her friends will be there again. I guess I should carry on being me, just show up dressed nice, look into her eyes, smile and listen. I want her to see me, for real this time.

Much love from your friend,