Macabre Poem.

Demons in the walls,
Demons in the halls,
Demons in my mind,
Demons, you will find.

I am consumed by dark,
No dog will bark,
What happens when it rises?
I don’t like surprises.


Popping the question.

No. I’m not getting married. Shockingly the various male suiters haven’t plucked up the bollocks to marry me. Instead, I want to talk about that simple question “Are you ok?” It’s such a good question, and i’m so sick of it being me question to ask. Just once, once I would like someone to know me well enough to ask me it, ask me it when I really needed, no prompting; just knowing when to ask.

You get an awful sense of loneliness when people fail to meet the most basic of expectations, I know it’s bigoted to say I ‘expect’ people to be a certain way, but when it comes to my friends, I at least want them to know me. I don’t feel like that’s too much to ask. Otherwise i’m left in this scenario again and again, alone and empty, with no one to voice my anguish too. I feel so alone, so very, uncontrollably, alone. And faced with the awkward paradigm of edging someone into asking you feels like cheating. It feels like you’re cheating at friendship. Curse this modern age, if only they could see my face, how I see theirs when they are left in this position. They’d come running. Instead they must read me from my lack of replies and mildly blunt responses. My friends, if you’re reading this, i’m not ok, i’m not alright and I could really use those beautiful three words, “are you ok?”.

Lost oppression.

This may be a vulgar comparison to my current situation but here goes. I have finished my A levels, three years, copious amounts of stress and just a hint of idiot teacher malarkey. Now it’s over, I have absolutely no idea how to occupy my time. I thought once it was over it would be this huge spiritual weight lifted from my mind, but instead i’m left feeling even worse. Now I wanted to use some statistics to back up my comparison, mental stress in our current education system has been recorded as the same mental strain as mental patients in the ’50s. Please bare in mind that it was during this time electroshock therapy was being used to ‘cure’ homosexuality, so I know this is outlandish to say the least, but what did the mental patients do with freedom? I would genuinely like to know, if i’m sharing the same mental strain as them, surly I can take a page out of their book to help myself recover from it. What did the do, how did they adjust, were they always out of sync? These are the same questions i’ve been asking my self for the past five days.

So, to test my little theory, the usual first step is to spend time in a safe environment, me home is a good option for that one, and once there, interact! Interact with everyone, your mum, your dad, your neighbours cat, everyone. This should put you back into the routine of ‘normality’. Eventually you’ll be left in a state of choice, you are then completely ready to choose what to do next. I just hope I make the right choice, oppression by way of education never let you choose ‘wrong’.



Welcome to another instalment of my metaphorical monologue. I came to a little epiphany today, I’ve felt like I was falling for a long time, such a long time that I don’t even remember when I jumped. It a never ending fall but yet i can still see the ground, see it mocking me, taunting me. As if it’s always close but never close to enough to hit. Upon that confusing ground there’s an occasional mattress, when I feel something is going right, it appears. However, for the most part it isn’t there at all. So I’m left falling with out even a measly mattress to catch me. Though through exploring this epiphany, I’ve found another inside it, a epipha-ception if you will. That maybe we’re both falling, me and the ground. If so that means one of many things, I can continue to feel like I’m going to fall forever or I can speed myself up and risk hitting the ground with or without the mattress. But then suppose the impact doesn’t crush me into a human pancake, what next, i’ve grounded me self on something solid, but what if there is other grounds, other mattresses, other places. This is confusion I feel at the moment. I know where I want to go, but I don’t know a certain way to get there or what will happen afterwards, despite the continuous falling, that is the most terrifying part of all.

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