This entry was originally written 18th April, 2008. The dates throghout this journal are out of order, some server error I suspect. Most are marked as August 2008, though they range from 2004 onward. This new introduction was added in 2020, and a large section of text was removed. Originally the text wall was about me coming to terms with how my internal differences aren't visible, so when I behave strangely, it's not clear why. I don't live in the eyes of other people anymore. I still worry about what they think of me, but that's part of life - finding your place in the world, like everyone else. The second paragraph was weightier to read. I think I've accepted myself now, faults included. .. Imagine having no noticeable signs of any difference, but that everything you did and felt was exaggerated. Emotions are felt more wildly, exciting thoughts race faster, and you move quicker than anyone else. Imagine also behaving completely erratically at some times and normal at others, and imagine that your mind instinctively moves onto every new impulse it takes in. But imagine that, because all of your behaviour is just an exaggeration of normal behaviour, nobody acknowledges your difference. Imagine the fear of living like this, responding so intensely to everything, always one impulsive step away from catastrophe, never sure when you’ll be ok and when you’ll be a handful… but always sure that nobody will ever realise that there’s a reason you’ve setting the toast on fire for the fourth time in a week, arriving two hours late for a wedding or stepping into busy traffic. I am an intelligent, charming young man, and people just don’t understand why I behave so ridiculously. ~ Let’s talk about something nicer now though. My life. I went for an interview at Loughborough recently. I didn’t plan, didn’t revise for any questions I may have been asked, and completely messed the whole thing up. Afterwards I went to a café and began to write. The entry is still on one of my handwritten journals, it’s the first thing I’d written, for my personal pleasure, in a-g-e-s, and marked the beginning of this year’s journal (while my trip to Norwich marked the beginning of 2008’s poetry). Anyway, I’m sitting in this café and I’m dressed exactly how I always wanted to dress: in posh but comfy shoes, with a fashionably cool shirt, awesomely sweet jeans and a completely complimenting belt, and I realise, this is where I always wanted to be. What I wanted to be doing. I remembered how much I love travelling and looking good. But there was more than that, because I was becoming the man I envisioned myself becoming by the time I was 21. This comes as a dawning realisation to me now, as I piece my memories together and realise how happy I am with myself! And it gets better. I still have downfalls, but my room is gorgeous and perfectly compliments me, my personality is fresh and unique, I am incredibly charming, and, dare I say it, people love me! I can’t believe how lucky I’ve been, for having the capacity to become what I am. At the same time, I’m infinitely proud of myself for always pushing myself to be the person I knew I could be. The only thing holding me back is this damn disorder business. Everything else is amazing. Tomorrow I go to Mum’s house to study for an essay I’m writing, then I gotta seriously revise some hardcore biology, DNA and stuff. It’s all so exciting!

It's 5am and I haven't been here in over a year. I've been with Dora for... what, like a year and 4, 5 months? We're really good a the moment. In my old journals I'd go on to describe how and why. I've just sprung up from my bed. I was thinking about friends. I don't seem to be very good at getting and keeping them, at least not god ones. I had them, sort of, as a kid. I think. Actually, for the most part i was a loner, buckling down with school work, reading whenever possible, and constantly thinking. My favourite reading memory is of a beautiful green copy of the complete illustrated works of Lewis Carrol after bed time. I was about 8 years old, and would read for an hour at a time by game boy magnifier light under my duvet. Hmm. Funny how memories captivate you. I'd remembered that book for years, but only just recalled the game boy light. That memory trace blossomed and lead to emotions not associated with the remembered phrase "i read lewis carrol", but with the actual memory itself, which had gone unexperienced since around that age. Diverging: Back to friends. I was an odd child, the effects of this were likely exaggerated somewhat by me wearing a different uniform to everyone else, as my mum had bought for me a required black jumper that nobody else seemed to own. So i stood out as different immediately. But the most important cause of -- what, lonerism? Mild self isolation? -- was that i was odd. I was diagnosed from an early age (~6yrs) with OCD, Tourette's and ADD, so all the symptoms of children living with these mental differences were present in me (except vocal tics; that only occurs for like 30% of people with Tourette's). I can only rely on my mum's memories as I barely rememebr anything from primary school, and she's told me stories of such things as full-body tics, or stroking a particular male classmates hair for a texture i was fond of. He was ok with it, and the class accepted my wealth of oddities. Nonetheless, this oddness no doubt had an impact on my friendships. Or perhaps I was never particularly interested in friends? In primary school I had a few good friends - Adrian, Sahnat, Kelly etc. Others I can't remember. But I just remember hanging out with myself more than anyone else. Wandering the playground. Interestingly, i was never short of girls asking me out and was almost always in a relationship. For such an odd boy, 4 girlfriends before puberty isn't too bad. There are hazy memories of other female interest, all astonishingly pointing towards there being something in me that people desired, even despite the weirdness. This contrasts sharply with the the image i had of myself growing up through puberty, even until just recently. It's only recently that I'v realised I have a choice in who I get with, and that I don't just have to settle with whoever I think I can get. In secondary school I had... eugh, less inclanation to write about myself so endlessly. But I still found it incredibly hard to sleep. It's 6am, I got distracted editing the Bedazzled story below, probably the only other available post to this journal out of around 700 entries. There are 3 other journals I used to keep here, but this was my main one. There are others at other sites, too. I used to love writing.

I seriously thought i was done with this. Today i woke up beside a gorgeous girl, we fooled around then held each other, and i couldn't have been more relaxed. Tonight, i went to see Hadouken perform in Lancaster library, one of the few gigs i've seen and one of my favourite groups. It couldn't have gone better. Before i came back to my room, i cuddled that same girl for ages, and felt so secure, wanted and safe. How should i feel now? When i get to see her againa in just a few hours, i get to go home soon for x-mas, my room is warm and i know i'm gonna do well for my exam in a few days, how am i feeling right now? I'm well liked, funny and intelligent, creative and spontaneous, got everything going for me. Second year uni student and most definitely the capacity for a high degree mark. I love people, i love life, i love living. So how do i feel right now? Horribly, horribly sad. I feel as though there's a whole inside me sucking out all the good. Then happy, amazingly elated, positive and good. The relaxed, then indifferent, then numb. Than bad again. All the time. I don't wanna write this but i think i need to. Despite everything, i keep feeling sad. Really sad. But then it goes away and i'm ok again, and i'm up. When i'm up i feel optimistic, positively empathetic and appreciate everything in the world, all the things people do, all the good of mankind, and all the pleasant qualities in my friends. I feel energised, enthusiastic, chirpy and powerful. I can talk for ages, truly listening with genuine interest because i'm so excited by what the other person's saying to me. When i come down, which is almost always without warning, i feel worthless, empty and tearful, and can only see the negative in everything. I have no energy, i'm incredibly irritable and aggressive, and when i snap at someone all i want to do is hurt them. And i do. Mostly i feel a mix, in an excess of emotion. I feel like i could burst with feelings, cry with joy or sob with sadness. I'm very volatile.

This is a creative writing piece for my first year minor at university. It was written years ago (2007?), for the now inactive everyone sitdiary, a colaborative journal with a public password. The pice was slightly refined for submission. It's certainly not my best work. Bedazzled It was the most striking sculpture he'd ever seen, curved to natural perfection, encrusted with dazzling jewels that lit up like tiny suns and mirror eyes that reflected the sorrow in his soul. The boy stood and stared in the middle of the street, captivated by this amazing figure of an immaculate person. It was so flawless it seemed alien, almost too attractive to be human. It stood proud like the most gorgeous of all heaven's angels, upon its pedestal in the centre of the tiny town. The bewildering thing about it was that it could only have been crafted by the hands of common folk. There were no more artists in his world, nobody who could ever have poured into it the love that had shaped in such a splendid way... So how could it be so radiant? It was an irrelevant mystery. What mattered was that she was beautiful. At first the boy paid short, infrequent visits, since he had other errands to attend to - commitments to friends and family, and a well-paying job - but as time progressed his passing-bys became sit-ins, as the rest of the world faded away and this incredible piece of art became everything to him. The world seemed different now that she was in it. Unlike in movies and story books, where everything around a character becomes bright and glowing when they fall in love, his experience of life became grey and mundane beyond her. He'd started out as a little distracted, but gradually, as his obsession grew, he became trapped in a downward spiral of self sacrifice. Friends gradually merged into the fog that was his world beyond her. By the 3rd month of fantasy he'd stopped returning their calls, so they'd stopped making the futile effort of attempting contact. They could no longer connect with the dazed, absent boy they thought they once knew. His work faded away a long before that, he was fired after two weeks of no appearances, but he didn't care. He didn't even realise. His world was her now. Eventually his need grew too strong, and at 3am one grey night he stole the statue away. It seemed that nobody would notice, they never even paid attention to her, and even if they did, they couldn't show her the appreciation he could. Now he was able to spend every waking moment with the woman he loved. At first she was warm to his touch, and he felt her love him back. He could slide his hands across her curves and feel the connection between man and marble. Her warmth was a solace to him, it lifted him up and filled him with colour and life. But the longer he spent with her, the cooler she became. He thought to give her space, and left her, even for weeks at a time, but when he returned she was colder than before. Soon it pained him to touch her, her frozen icy surface burning his skin. His hands became scabbed and scarred. But he refused to give up hope, and over the next month built a huge incubator for her. It was almost equal to her in it's grand complexity, and he was even slightly proud of himself when he finally completed her gift. He wrapped it around her, his great huge warming hug machine. But when he returned to her the next day he found, once again, she had not changed. She was not warmer. Puzzled, he decided his creation was surely faulty. He proceeded to craft an incubator that would be larger, better, and flawless. This task would take him years, building on what he'd already made until the hug machine dwarfed his object of worship. For all his efforts he would only suffer. It made no difference, no matter how much he tried. He spent the rest of his life trying to warm her up, eventually dying in the process from exhaustion and malnutrition having dedicated every last bit of energy to her. It never once occurred to him that the cold was not coming from outside, that his own creation only served as a wall between him and the truth, and that no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried to keep her warm, he could never change what she was inside.

EDIT: For my first year at university, i "studied" creative writing. This involved going to a few lectures on the topic, until the lecturer said everything in the course was in a book he wrote (this one). I submitted my own stuff bi-weekly. I also had to critique other's work, some of which was great. I hooked up with the best writer there a few times, she was a sweet sub. Memories of mead. The stuff below was put here so that I could copy + paste to print out all my work. I want to stress, there's only one new poem here (Dolphin Dreams, written 5 minutes on a bus, and a very early version). The rest are years old. The first one though is a somewhat recent re-write of a stoned scrawl from my pot junkie days, when I was about 8 1/2 stone. It was a bad choice, deciding to waste a year on 'Creative Writing', but such is life. If i hadn't participated in the course, these would have been forgotten, perhaps for the best, as they're all rough and samey even after revisions. I'd ask you not to judge my ability on these, my illustrious, invisible, imagined audience, but since i have produced nothing better since, there's nothing else to go by. Ho-hum. The last story is my favourite. You Make Me Sick The panic reminds me of sick dizzy confusion, Old migraine vomit and pain. The fear holds me tight as my eyes widen in horror And I realise I cannot refrain From recalling the times when everything turned to hate. It's all coming back to me now, The cuts and the scars, your caring abuse, The bullshit I somehow allowed. I knew it was coming, as my body fell over, Sick from the smell of stale piss. My stomach screaming at me, I wish to be numb, And hate my continued weakness. Those old metal bowls, in the public toilets, They're the places I hate to see most, Through tear soaked eyes there's a face retching bile, Puke pouring all over my clothes. And I�m wishing to stop, let go of this life That you beat into shape just for me: End this right now, pick off the old scabs, Start with a new memory. But the endless stream flows and my back's buckling now, I can't hold myself up for much longer. Thank you so fucking much for the twisted disease You never knew you were feeding your daughter. Dolphin Dreams Dolphin dreams of Walking with people. It's on his to-do list, High up there, with Befriend a shark, Start a business, And write an autobiography. There's a fair bit to put into it: He once dated a French girl, And saw King Neptune in a restaurant. Even knew Ariel, Before she sold out to Disney. He reckons he's had a good life. Few regrets. Still misses his French girl - She left him for another European. But hey, Plenty more fish in the sea. Reading Hour In pen and in pencil Expertly arranged Colourful monochrome Drips from the page Words and wisdom Prose and rhyme Climb inside someone's skin Or a portal through time Floating The image of desire painted slightly over sky Borrows sorrow from the memories scattered lightly over time Obsessions over silver skin and times when you were mine But all that's left remaining is a self-destructive lie The frantically demolished lie silent, cold and still God cries out for all our pain but still allows us to feel The beauty of destruction is the only thing that's real Truth is dead and bloodied while our scars will never heal Once upon a time was bliss but now we long to follow Across the oceans of embrace to meet again tomorrow The distance is dust vapour and the heart is a black hollow An empty sac of sadness that we're aching to just swallow Seduced at first by the promise of new life The rebirth of old faces and a fresh will to survive But all is lost when we slip up and no hope is left to thrive Now all that's left remaining is a self-destructive lie Restraint Your head feels bust And your mouth tastes of rust From blood gargled and spat out last night And you want to cry Feel so messed up inside But everyone says it'll all be alright It's hard to believe When you're on your knees And the faith and the hope have dried up But you try to smile In blatant denial Of the fact that your heart feels tied up A faint old tune plays As you sleep through each day In a bed made of ash, built for one The drug is right there But you feel too scared Of what they'll say when they see what you've done The pills should've helped Instead you just felt Like everything had become so much clearer Waking each day To suffer in vain And ending it knowing the answer Spontaneous thoughts Outline in white chalk The person they thought you could be Inconsistency bends Your image of strength Always brings you back down to your knees If you could just feel If your wounds would just heal Then it might disappear this time 'round But dreams are all lies And everyone dies Nothing matters when you're underground Mother's Day Fond memories of play-parks Theme parks and fun larks High times and hard times That pushed away or helped to bind And everything that helped to build Or helped lift up or helped to heal The moments that make up a life Never forgotten, they keep us alive Savage Romance The mechanics of desire never considered That you may be required to be beaten down And force-fed a farce of spit, spite and blood Split into halves by a sick diseased clown You were once a saint among so many black hearts Looked so young as you waited in your tainted armour So she argued with haste as you fell apart Expectations misplaced by her misinformed father After scripts burnt out and an awkward silence Came a history of bouts in gloves dusted with dry ice Your anxiety prevailed as the days turned into months And your honesty soon failed as she lusted for those fights That cruel kid with a penchant for misery and scars But seductively painted with a face of fake charm You shed your true tears for tragic circumstance And built brand new fears for her own false harm She was once taught like a child in a cast People can be fought until they break or bend Manipulation is the word that brings life to ugly masks But if cannot be heard and it cannot be read An invalid arrangement so she'd feel strong Mood swings and knife rage beat your ego to pulp You can't deny you betrayed her 'cause she's never wrong And all of her hurt was always your fault The All-Natural Orchestra! We extend to your person a grand invitation To get down and boogie and dance to the rhythm Of a handcrafted mirror ball mosaic drum So join in with us and take your well-earned turn To entice all others and lead by the hand A mish-mash of merry men, an exciting new band Of flip-flops and castles and sparkling glitters And cherry-topped sundaes and pineapple fritters And everyone smiley or with rugged hair Dance in the streets and let others stare Wear the robes of a king or a clown And turn all those frowns right upside down! Smiles The stare at you with Shattered window headlight eyes In the shape of pig hearts, Hands bloody with white lies That they feed you and say, "Might just hurt, but never kill" Dripping cold, thick slime From their fake scaled gills And screaming orders the others Shut up and obeyed Pushing you to your knees In the blood pools they've made Faking reasons and excuses That are born with no feet And spitting through their teeth, "Unique just means weak" You Would Never Guess, Unless You Saw Her Scream Schoolgirl valentine smiles in Red leather bondage, studded with spike metal, Leaps across the empty mountains after midnight, Spreads her arms like a confused mistress Holding the world on her back, Buckling shoulders support an ancient "Something she'll never understand". Ties an old ghost to a withering tree In a burning forest, Leaves him to melt to a fierce bubbling Puddle of foolish hope And skips the funeral To attend a dragon's ball, Hosted by a myth that cries itself to sleep. Arrives on the arm of a cheap lie, In crystal stilettos sticking to fishnet stockings, And faded dress worn with friction, Faking concern for the charity of the night. Waltzes as everything heads to its climax On an empty spiral floor, That rises erect to the sky, With her on top, writhing and shaking. Leaps from the clouds at dawn As her breath turns to ice, Soars past a hundred homeless hearts and Sprouts huge wings, Rises to the glowing sun, fades out of sight, Then ignites in a blinding flash That fills the sky and leaves nothing Feeling whole anymore. Crib death Wanting to be everything that she could Knowing she's not, that she misunderstood And all that she was is now left behind And all she can do is crawl back and hide Filling her warmth with left over spite Giving her all in every last fight It shouldn't be, shouldn't end up this way Thought it was clear but she's been led astray Cycles of doubt and furious rage Blood splatters drip over her rusted cage Never leave me again, she says to the next Ignoring new holes on her aging neck Sometimes she remembers what she used to dream That one day she'd see all that she could be But she'll disappear with no idea who she was With nothing to gain, nothing can be lost mirror eyes She likes to watch the people, As they pass her by. She likes to see their eyes flicker to each others, Likes to watch them breathe. To see them smile, And hug, and kiss, Likes the contact and the comfort. Likes to see when he buys her flowers, When she kisses him back, and he's happy. She likes to watch the people. Her only wish, She tells herself, Is to get out there, With all those pretty people. Breathing with them, Moving with them, being with them. She wants to meet the people who Will kiss her cheeks in greeting, And the other people who will give her Beautiful smelling flowers and creamy, Soft chocolates. She wants to feel the warmth of each person As they brush past her skin. But she can't. She shouldn't, She knows that she can't. Tonight then, she prays, To be with the others, To be part of it all. Prays to be involved, To be unified, To touch them. Because, That's all she really wants. Morning comes, she hopes she is free, To be able to reach out to all of them. She hopes that hope is enough, and She proceeds. For the briefest of moments She feels her soul lift up high into the clouds, With them all, And finally feels unified. But then she notices something strange, Something unusual, Something she's never noticed before, Through her mirror eyes. She notices the tears of the people, Notices the hurt on their expressions. The aimlessness of their wanderings, And no longer is the drip-drip-dripping Of each tiny raindrop so exciting anymore, No longer does she stand in awe. She looks harder, but only seems To push her people even more From forms of beauty To objects of selfish flesh and blood. She realises how free she truly was before. And all she can do is stand. Night falls, and the groups disappear, Leaving the select few rushing In and out of doors, Refraining to hesitate, Or even establish eye contact. Waiting for someone to bring her the flowers, To kiss her, to greet her; Waiting for nobody, Tears fall from her cheek, Devouring her entity, While no-one will stop to save her, To help her, To comfort her. The sun makes it's return, Drying her icy tears, Hardening them against her flesh. As dawn breaks, her very own wish Casts her into a stone casket Of solid sorrow, And she becomes another statue, Another centre-piece To brighten up Their self indulgent lives.

There's nothing... but i'll try. To download from megaupload, enter the 3-letter code in the top-left corner of the screen. Close the pop-up if it appears by clicking on the orange 'X' in the ad box. I took Bryony shopping today! Bought Miranda, Bob, BJ and Ellie some pressies, and we got back just in time for dinner. It was great spending some time with my little sister. Next month, i'm gonna have a lot mroe dough, so i'll have to take her shopping again. I woke up this morning, after some pretty wierd dreams -- one involving Bob (Denise) as a mutant thing (although, despite everyone else's reaction, i still thought she was great), another involving a shop i went into to check out some pre-owned games; after going through a small door at the back, i found myself in a massive warehouse-shop. At the back of this shop, it opened out to another world. This new world was, essentially, the same as ours, just darker, more confusing; the way the town streets of Reading would look to someone who's never lived in England. Days ago, i dreamt that i was going to Asda with Miranda. I remember a dingy, and the layout was similar to Toys-R-Us. She was told to leave, and i stuck by her, arguiing her defense. I left with her, since there was no point staying; i was shopping -with- Miranda. My drug counseller said -- or, discovered, as i said -- at my latest drug rehab, that i'm having an incredibly hard time coping without all the pretty drugs. I told him, i knew how easy it would be to take away all the thoughts, and that i don't feel anyone really can relate. Nobody knows what's happening inside my head, it's true. I'm always thinking about it, about drugs, about being fucked up, tripping out, going away, it's horrible. He recomended talking about it, so this is me talking. I'm struggling. It's not easy. I thought it would be, but it's just not. And i'm so fucking sad..! i don't know why, because my medication should be helping me, right? But i'm still... I don't know why i don't like to talk about it. I don't wanna admit it, i guess. If you really wanna know how i'm feeling, look up the lyrics to Massive Attack's "Live With Me" (hear a rock cover [here], see the video [here]). But, please, don't judge me. I'm trying, ok? I'm really, really trying. Anyway, on Friday night i went to the TUC with Bob and Twig! It was great fun, and i got on particularly well with James, Bob's fella. Unfortunately, though, Twig got overly drunk, fell out with Bob, so Bob got pissed off too. I went home, recognising that i was pushing my limits (yay me! i've never done that before!!), but not before i'd bit into a heart and got my face covered in blood offered to the audience by some goth metal band, who i gloriously moshed to with Murphy. He'd apologised to me earlier, and i tried to explain to him he didn't need to apologise for a thing, and that he jsut got caught up in something awful, but he still said he was sorry. Bless him, he's a nice guy, and a damn fine headbanger! But now my neck is killing me. Oh, and i puked snakeite, which i forgot i did until i noticed the red splats on my trainers while waiting for a bus into town with Bryony. Also, danced with Twig and with James, drunk a fair amount and treated myself to a gorgeous chiecken burger and chips ('cause they always taste best when you're intoxicated), and got hiccups halfway through walking home (which took about 45 minutes, and i still wasn't sober by the time i got home at 1am). I learned that drinking with friends is great, but just because you're learning your limits and paying attention to your behaviour, that doesn't mean everyone else is, and said friends are liable to go a little over the edge. I also remembered how expensive it is to drink, especially when your buying for others. I do regret not buying Murphy a drink, so i'll have to party with him next month. Oh, and Boo asked my why his girlfriend told him he was King of the Fraggles (grr!). Download: Queen Adreena - Pretty Like Drugs (mp3) Download: Queen Adreena - Pretty Like Drugs (video) Download: Queen Adreena - Sleeping Pill (mp3) Click [here] for Queen Adreena lyrics.

I said to Vicky that i wouldn't sleep when i got home. I didn't lie; it's now 10 to 1 in the morning. I have work tomorrow, but i'm looking forward to it. Today was good (by today, i mean Sunday, yesterday). There was a new chick. I get told off for saying "chick" instead of "girl" or "lady" at work. Bah. Pink Floyd: There's a silence surrounding me I can't seem to think straight I'll sit in the corner And no one can bother me I think I should speak now I can't seem to speak now My words won't come out right I feel like I'm drowning I'm feeling weak now But I can't show my weakness I sometimes wonder Where do we go from here? 'Keep Talking', from my favroutite Floyd album, 'The Division Bell'. Saturday night ended with me collapsing upstairs sometime after 3am, after supervising and entertaining Bryony and her friends. I'm pretty shattered, but it doesnt take a lot of energy to think enough to write. Miranda phoned today. She apologised for hurting me earlier, said she was feeling bad. I forgave her, and made her promise to talk to me next time. Doesn't explain her behaviour at all. She said, she woke up on Sunday and found i wasn't there, and missed me. Hmm. If this happens again, i will leave her. I have not forgiven Lloyd for acting out against whoever he feels like, expecting them to come back afterwards, and while i have forgiven here this time, there's no reason why i should forgive her a second time. Hurt me once, shame on you; hurt me twice, shame on me. My mother interupted me during the phone conversation. She said Miranda had called earlier, and that she was damn lucky Kyle asnwered instead of her. She is never gonna forgive Miranda, because she saw the look on my face, she saw how much i was hurt when i came back home, she saw the total rejection i felt, and she knows that Miranda caused it. She can't understand why i've forgiven her. I did enjoy talking to her on the phone. I missed her. The her that doesn't hurt me. It's just a shame there's another her too. We will see. I also loved talking with Vicky today. I've missed her, as a friend i can share with. We have a lot in common it seems, and we get on well. We've even got the same hair colour (auburn, damnit). I don't have much else to say. Although, i did find this in 'boy': December 15, 2005 [Private Entry] -------------------------------------- "i have an idea. an open relationship." "i wish i knew what you were thinking". romantic. always melts me.

It seems that i'm a very self-absorbed person. I've found an article called "How to tell if you're self-absorbed". Perhaps the fact that i'm answering this here means that i am, indeed, self absorbed. However, seeing the world. Perhaps i am not. Maybe it's just a little. In any case, i'm seeing relationships as a two-way street, whereas i used to give and give and feel resentful when i got nothing back. Now, i expect to be given things back, otherwise i will give less. If i get nothing, or just a little, that is what i will give in return. My old self would try and work out just what it was that i was doing wrong when someone wasn't putting as much into me as i was them. My new self can't be fucked with this kind of excessive giving. While i will, still, give a lot in the beginning of anything, if it's not returned, then i will give less and less, until what i'm giving matches how much the person i'm responding to is giving. This seems to be how most other people work. I still don't fully understand people. But seeing myself more in this world, instead of others so much, i can understand a substantial amount more. It's quite sickening, how much pain and misery people cause to themselves. Anyway, self-absorbed questionarre thingy: 1. You try to win over everybody else around you by setting unrealistic goals. If you engross yourself around the clock in goals impossible to achieve, then you can be considered self-absorbed. Uhm, no. Not any more. 2. Think you are "too good" for the friends and loved ones who have done nothing sinful but be caring to you? Again, no. I'm starting to wonder if the feelings i thought people feel for me are really what i think they are; i'm seeing more than i've ever seen. This is not a bad thing, and i've talked it over with my my mum, the one person who knows me best (in all the ways she can, obviously). 3. Believe that you are so appealing, you can cheat on your partner and be with as many dates as possible. No. This trait was lost a long time ago. 4. Think your problems and needs are the only things that matter. Not at all. Not in the slightest. Before, though, i think this was true. I realised other people had "problems and needs", but i was too busy worrying about my own to be concerned with them. 5. Buy too many expensive things for yourself, branded things that you want but do not exactly need. No. I enjoy shopping, but i'll never buy anything that serves no good purpose, such as something that simlpy makes me look betetr than everyone else. 6. Set "standards" for who should be allowed to talk to you. True to an extent. I don't like talking to certain people, and i don't like them talking to me, but i DO work in a shop. Outside of work, i would talk to pretty much anybody, but it's easier to tell, after talking to a wide variety of people, who's really worth listening to, and who's boring, selfish, or has nothing to offer. Tips for the self-absorbed + Seek help, be more open - Yes, i need to work on this. Otherwise i'm gonna think myself to death. My thoughts aren't stopping; they'd normally clog up, but they're just not. It's very, very strange. + Remember this quote, "Perfection spells paralysis" - Yeah, okay. + Do not be afraid to cry - I am not afraid to cry. I've always known that anyone who scoffs at a person crying has insecurities of their own that they've been unable to get past. + If you are self-absorbed as a result of others bullying you in the past, do not trash-talk innocent people who care about you. - I do nothing like this. People who do sicken me. + When you save your energy only for yourself, and do not care for others.. You will have a boring life - Perhaps, but perhaps the fact that i finally am using my energy for myself, instead of always for others, is a good thing? + Talk to someone you trust - It's hard to find someone i trust at the moment. I don't know what i want. ~~~ Continuing on; no, i don't know what i want. Being "normal" has just complicated things and made everything a lot blurrier. Hell, i don't know who i am right now. I DO know i'm different. But who have i become? It scares me to see myself as i am now. It's unfamiliar. However! I can see the drive for success and achievement in me. On a slightly unrelated note, i WILL NOT be dragged down by those who believe money means success. Happiness means success, and money doesn't equal happiness. Fulfillment, for me, equals happiness. Who am i? ~~~~~ More 'research': "Self absorbed: does things primarily for the benefit of themself, puts their feelings first, can't do anything when they don't feel good, swayed by their emotions, more concerned with themself than others, prefers personal glory over team victories, pleasure seeker, uses their looks to get what they want, gets angry when they don't get what they want, dramatizes their suffering, wealth seeking, superficial, manipulative, narcissistic" No, this does not sound like me. This sounds like Ellie. And that's not me being cruel, at all. ~~~~~ Ignorance is bliss, but knowledge is power.

More transcriptions. Twenety-past-midnight, listening to Switchblade Symphony. The following is all from letters written the night before the last. Last night, instead of writing at 2am i was walking to-and-from Woodley and Whitley, to see Ellie, Matt and Les. Took a 45-min break on my journey home to read Haunted, a book of short stories from the author of Fight Club, Chuck Palahniuk. On with the text. Miranda's Biology Lesson. She taught me how my muscles worked, how i moved. And there was no relentless questioning required. In fact, i was relentlessly questioning, come to think about it, but she knew she was teaching me, so had every bit of patience needed to answer with understandable clarity. She was also interested in what she was saying. Conclusion: People don't know what my motives are when i question. They don't realise i'm just trying to educate myself, and find me, at times, arguementative. Perhaps, if i ask them to "teach me"? Make them aware that i -want- to learn, but need more information to understand? Shopping on Saturday. Went out protected. Huge baggy dark jumper, usual black jeans, hugging black t-shirt underneath. Dark shades with no sunlight, looked like a hermit. Didn't need it all in the end, and stripped to the t-shirt in the street, removed the glasses. Shopping's very therapuetic for me, and the abundance of people in a normal state put me back in touch with rationality, bringing me out of my slumped mood. I'm very reflective. I don't like people with negative traits. Selfish, lying, stupid people bounce off of me and affect me in a way i'd rather not be affected. Interuptions. "Please try not to interupt me. I realise that you are simply trying to share with me & relate how you feel, but it makes me feel like you don't care about what i have to say, and so don't care about what i'm sharing and how i feel. In return for your efforts, i will try to notice your body language more, and invite you into my speech more. Please be ready to respond, else this may not be effecctive. I will try to be more aware of when you'd like to contribute to a rambling monologue of mine and/or feel as though i'm hogging the air during our time together. I will stop, or ask you what you think, because i value your thoughts and feelings." Masterbation. I encourage anyone and everyone to masterbate, and never to be ashamed of it. I don't get why people are. Parent's attitudes seem to be the only things that make a person ashamed of it, but, to be honest their attitudes are outdated and not completely in tune with modern beliefs. Studies show that masterbation helps you to learn how to come stronger, and have more control over yourself too, which is always a plus. Click for (male) or (female). Miranda. She has to much that needs healing; i've burdened her with myself and lost sight of my original intentions: to show her how amazing she is, to be the kind of person she needs to know she deserves, It is time for me to change again. It bothers me that i can't show her as much as i'd like as a friend; i look at Ellie sometimes and see so much that Matt could be doing for her, things i can't do as i stand to her now. However, if i can be everything Miranda needs in a friend, maybe i will help more than i realise? And does she only want a friend in me? What does she want from me? An old question that's never been answered fully. Having me: that's a lot to take on, but not believing she's strong enough to have me is going to sabotage any relationship, wether we're just friends, or something more. Well, anyway, time will tell, but i have a considerable amount of work ahead of me. I will enjoy all of it, and i hope she will too. Ellie. I've distanced myself from Ellie because i've been feeling shit. I need to tell her this. I also need to continue building my new life, to show her that a depressive OCD-suffering weed junkie still has the power to be just what they want to be. If i give up, i show her that her dreams too will die if she tries.

This is the third entry of today. I guess they'd be better read in order... my regression to this current state of mind is clearer that way; it would help to understand what i'm feeling. I got out of work today, at 7pm, happy. Then i realised i wasn't actually all that happy at all. I got a drink from Sainburys, sat outside, and thought, about what i'd been worrying about (see below), about how i was feeling, about thinking itself, about people, about work, about how to relieve whatever it was i was feeling. I decided i would go shopping, because i enjoy shopping. I bought lip balm, 'cause my lips felt raw, and a book i'd been meaning to get for a while, called "Women On Top". It's about women's fantasies; what they are, and why they are what they are. I've got "Men In Love", which is the guy version, by the same author, but i don't care to know what guy's think about and why. Why would i give a damn? Guys are boring, and their fantasies are unimaginative, dull and predictable, like most men, it seems. Anyway, it didn't help, although i was happy with my purchase. I walked down the street, and i could feel the pain burning up inside me. This happens often, but not as often as it used to now, since i've been on anti-depressants. Then i burst out crying. I can feel that burn now. It's a horrible feeling, and as i've said before, the worst part is that there erally is no cause. It's simply a chemical imbalance in my brain. So, i know, if i bear with it, it'll go away eventually. But i also know that it will come back, time after time, and there's not a damn thing i can do about it. I collected myself, covered my mouth, the usual actions. My eyes glinted and i was blinded, had to wipe away the tears, be strong, go on, keep moving, get past this. But it got worse, the more i tried to fight it. I wondered further, the burn spiralling outwards in intensity, growing, enveloping more of my emotional core, hurting more and more. I crossed a road, passing cars, and thought a familiar thought: oh, i'd love to end it here, now. I'm crying now... but i've stopped, can't cry in front of the ones i'm around. Not appropriate, i'll go out soon, have a ciggerette, come back in, be better. I can cry outside. But i can't just stop it, not that easily, i've got people i need to take care of, people who need holding and loving, and i thought, well maybe sometimes i don't want these people. Maybe sometimes i'd rather be alone, so i CAN stop it permanently. Crying again. I thought of all the people who need me, resented them for a moment, but i know i have to stay, no matter how bad it gets, because i love them. Oh, but i wish it would stop. I just wish, sometimes, it would all stop. I'm sorry for telling you this. I need to go now. It's ok, it will pass.

I talk to organise my feelings and express emotion. I do this in writing too, and my words flow with greater ease when typed. I tried to work out what i wanted to say to Ellie, but couldn't, so that's what i'm going to write about. Ellie used to be friends with Miranda. Now, she confuses herself and Miranda with all sorts of feelings she herself doesn't understand. But that's beside the point, which is, now they are not friends. However, while they were friends, they decided to go and see Disturbed together. Obviously, now that they're not close, and Ellie's making everything uncomfortable, she doesn't wanna go. I'd love to go, i know Miranda would love for me to go, and Ellie's brother Alex is going too, and i'd love to go with him also. Ellie's decided to sell her ticket. Between �20 and �50, she wants. I said i'd buy it from her, so i could go. But i'm not going to. Because she's selling her ticket for drugs. The money i would give her would go straight on a draw. I am not going to feed her habit. It really is a shame, because i was looking forward to it. I talked to my mother, and as much as my mum knows how close me and Ellie are, she now feels that Ellie isn't the friend i think she is, because she's using me for drugs. Hmm. I feel substantially better now, but i still don't know how to say this to her. I'm going to ask Miranda for her help, because my mum now feels Ellie is ugly inside. And i don't believe she is, but i love her, and she loves me, but she loves drugs more than me. And this proves it. I desperately want to get her off, she's a fantastic, amazing girl, when she's sober. She's ok when she's stoned, but she's just not there. And i don't feel that Matt's willing to help, and i can't do it on my own. Her brother wants her off as well; it hurts him too to see her hurting and turning to a fix to ease the pain. I'm going to talk to him about it before i worry any further. Ellie, man, i love you, but i can't watch you do this to yourself any longer. I don't know what to do right now.

Lloyd. The 'dish. I'm still pissed off at him, and no, i'm not about to forgive him. He was in what you might consider a "slump". One he'd put himself into, but that's beside the point; everyone slips from time to time, right? Except that Lloyd enjoys slipping, quite clearly. God knows why, i'm beyond the point of really giving a shit. I'll tell you why shortly. But first; as i was saying, he was low, and i decided to help him out, like my friends do me when i'm stuck. I wrote to him in his journal (donut), a private entry (i still know his password from a while back). This is what i wrote: ~~~~~ I realise how intrusive this seems. But human contact for me at the moment is not an option. I'm scared for you, and that's why i'm writing this. Read me. Please. If you do not, you confim all the things peoeple are saying about you behind your back. If you do, you show, at least to yourself, that you are stronger than they think, and as strong as i've always thought you are. My brother's worried. He's really worried, and you know that that's bad, because you know he rarely talks to me, and he's talked to me about you. He feels that every time he trys to talk to you, you push him away. I can understand why, but he wants to be there for you. Kris misses jamming with you, but can't handle you at the moment. I've heard about your new friend. He does sound like me when Kyle knew me. He's a wise old sod, my brother. He was telling me how you're trying to find your new self. But it's a concept he can't understand completely, because when you're hanging with Kris and him, or with me too, you're not "cyber-goth lloyd" or "pill-head lloyd". You're just Lloyd. And that's the Lloyd we love. I'm concerned too. Kyle said he asked you why you're taking pills, and told me you said it was for "release". He got hooked up asking "release from what?". But that's irrelevant. Lloyd, it's taken me a year and a half to stop using drugs for "release". You're stronger than that. My brother, my mother, and everybody else who i asked, advised me not to let you party with me. I thought about it for a long time. They said you couldn't handle it, and i was convinced you could, that you would be able to handle it. Now i'm dissappointed, because you've proved them right, and i had a lot of faith in you. Sorry dude, but its the truth. Pills are for enhancing reality, not escaping it, just like all drugs should be. Heroin, crack, those are escapist drugs, junkie drugs. Nobody, least of all me, who -you know- has seen junkies fucked up beyond all help (not talking Ellie, thats nothing [ed: in context]) wants to see you go down that road. Because it's so easy. I lost a great deal of your respect when i got into drugs. Do you remember? Don't let yourself down man. Please. We're all here for you, we really are. But eventually, one by one, all the people who've stuck by you are going to drop out. They can only hold on so much before you push them away completely. Please just remember who your real friends are. Please remember who has stuck by you, and will always try to. I'm always here, i've been through some shit, i hope you feel i can relate to you in someway, and so i hope you feel you can come to me. We love you dude. chris ~~~~~ Wanna know his reply? You ready for this? ~~~~~ oh my god, i really should talk to someone about this. truth be told, i've just made a mountain out of a molehill! i don't know how to explain in words. one thing i do know how to explain, what the fuck does one say to the biggest stick in the mud about drugs? 'uh, for fun.' you know what kyle's like. and maybe i have been pushing everyone away, but maybe that's because i feel like i'm changing, i'm growing all new ideals and becoming altogether very different from kyle and kris. i've never really felt comfortable talking to kyle about feelings, y'know, cos he's so fucking uptight all the time. and another thing, for kyle to feel like he can fuckin psychoanalyze everyone the way he does, that fucks me off to no end. feels he can label and stereotype everyone. and that he can judge everyone. that he can judge me. NO. he can't judge me because he's a cunt and has NO real experience of anything in the REAL WORLD because he's married to fucking drama. he's too busy fuelling his mind with BULLSHIT FALSE REALITY. i'm sick of his fucking giant ego, i'm sick of HIM repremanding me and feeling like he can boss me around. he's a motherfuckingcuntasshole and i hope he dies the death of a thousand martyrs. i'm very VERY angry, and very very tired and the sad sad truth is that my using isn't as bad as everyone is under the impression it is for SWEET MOTHER FUCK KNOWS WHY. god alone knows why, but the minute i mentioned pills to kyle, he blew it out of proportion and disowned me, refused even to give me a hug goodbye. way to make me feel loved and supported, great friend. well fuck that. fuck him. fuck everyone. given the opportunity i would KILL EVERYONE WITH A MOTHERFUCKING BROKEN GLASS BOTTLE BECAUSE I'M SUCH A FUCKING ANGRY LLOYD BECAUSE WHY THE FUCK CAN'T PEOPLE JUST FUCKING GET OVER THEMSELVES, GET OVER ME, GET OVER WHATEVER STUPID FUCKING HANGUPS ARE KEEPING THEM FROM JUST LEAVING ME THE FUCK ALONE. FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK. can't cope with this, i have art work to do. my friend tash is spending the day here with me. i know real pain and suffering because i know tash. stick-thin, she lives in a rented room in a shared house just off oxford road at the tender age of seventeen. since all of her friends go to college, she is very lonely, especially since she can't go back to college and has to work full time. her parents disowned her. this is her week off. all she's been doing is going out and getting very very drunk in her free time. she doesn't eat properly, just pays her rent and goes out drinking. and the tragedy of my life is that i want what she has. i'm still angry. end transmission. ~~~~~ Fucking little whiny shit. My brother read this and cried. My brother NEVER cries. He hates crying. I feel sick writing this. What's the worst part? That Kyle's forgiven him. Fuck Lloyd. At the time, i even wrote a reply, god help me. And i almost made the mistake of forgiving him. This is what i wrote. Stupid me. ~~~~~ We're worried. That's all. There's no need to hate us because of that fact. Why do you do that, anyway? See, now i'm pissed with you too, because you just shat all over my brother. That's harsh man, no matter how you're feeling. You're not gonna have anyone left soon. I know you're angry, but hold some of it in. Kyle loves you unconditionally; you KNOW that he'll be here for you when you're ready. But if you hurt him much more, i can't promise that fact. Pain and suffering is what you make it, like life. I did what your friend's doing. That's not pain and suffering, alcohol is self-induced. If she's in a bad state, get drink counselling. I'm getting drug and drink counselling, i can tell her how it goes if she's interested. My old heroin junkie friends are in much worse states, but they were too far gone to get help. I'm glad you want to help her though, that's good. Bring her up though, don't let her slide down. I've been letting Ellie slide, pumping her full of drugs and ideals of escapism. But i gotta be there for her; she's not strong enough to realise she IS strong enough to do it on her own. I actually just got a call from her, told her that i was writing about her, and just admitted what i just wrote to her. Ooh. Yeah, I know drugs are great fun, i still LOVE my drugs. But i love the people who love me more. I'm off the drugs now so i can be here. For the first time, i've got Kyle back as a brother. Not cause he went away, but cause i did. People are worried most about you using because you've shown them that you don't have a lot of control. Nobody thinks you can hold yourself together man! If you wanna prove them wrong, show that you don't need to get off your face to be happy. Dude, i'm here for you man, but please don't push me away too. ~~~~~ Maggot. Fucking dirty maggot. He's hurt my brother. He KEEPS hurting my brother. He's hurt Kris, he's hurt Kris' mum, he's hurt my mum. He's hurt every single person that's ever tried to help him. And now he's tried to hurt Miranda, and THAT IS NOT FUCKING ON. Lloyd wants to stay away, or i will hurt him. I am NOT a happy bunny right now.

On the brink of tears again. You know, it wouldn't be half as bad if there was a reason for it. If i was upset over something, if i was sad because of something. But there just... isn't. So, i can never make it go away. I got a bit of a scare today; recieved a letter from the sexual health clinic, asking me to phone a health advisor. I did, knowing they were gonna tell me something horrible and terrifying, my hands were shaking and my voice was breaking. But the chick on the phone simply said i'm clear of hepititus B, and reminded me to continue with my vaccination (20th of this month). That was a worry i could've done without! Right now, i feel like i just wanna shut myself off from everyone and everything. Forget the world for a while. Forget this paranoia. Oh. I don't know. The tourettes makes it worse. There's one tic where i have to hold my breath until i can release it again. It's very unpleasant. But, hey, life goes on, this mood's not half as bad as some of the others, and i'm going for a ciggerette. ________________________________ But i do need some fucking sleep.

I'm not doing well at all. Coming off the drugs... a year-and-a-half, i've geen binging. Marijuana, mostly, lots of pills, lots of drink, and anything else i've got my hands on too (but not to such a large extent -- anything else has been experimental). I've booked myself in for an appointment with a drug and alcohol clinic. Appointment's next Monday, 3:30. I ran out of anti-depressant pills 2 days ago. I'm coping. I forgot how hard it is; i remembered why i finally had to admit that i needed something to help me get by. Mum gave me one of hers, and it really fucked me up. I was quivering and puking, crying, but it was ok once i'd emptied my stomach. Guess that's a warning: don't OD, it's a rotten feeling. ~~ Kneeling over the bowl, i pressed my fingers to the back of my throat. It was familiar, so i guess it wasn't as scary as i could have been. My hair was tied back. I knew that it had to be done; i couldn't sleep, my head was thumping, whatever was causing me pain was still in my stomach. It was like a trigger. A magic button at the back of my throat. I wretched, and a short flow of acidic gunk shot out of my mouth. It was thick but creamy, and absolutely revolting. But that wasn't it all. I still felt horrible. More had to come. I pulled my trigger again, and some more came out. Still not enough, so i had to endure it further. I groaned, my eyes welling up with tears, shaking, barely holding myself up. One more time, i pushed the button at the back of my throat, and it all shot out. I couldn't stop it if i tried. It just flowed out. No, it forced itself out. Like a huge liquid maggot emerging from my mouth. I was the host, giving birth to this toxic shit. As more of it came out, it became more solid, with the juice having been spewed out before all the solid had been propelled outwards. Eventually i was done with the puking, and dribbled out the stodgy mess that was left still in my mouth. I sat for a while, spitting into the bowl, then blew the puke out of my nose into tissue. Eugh. ~~ I told the doctor i'm still having doubts, suicidal thoughts, only occasionally. I've not told anybody this. I don't know if i want to write it here, but nobody reads this anymore, so it's ok. I told him that my new sobriety is terrifying me. I have to learn new coping strategies, and apart from anything else, i have to re-discover my own identity. I have bouts of not recognising the person in the mirror; i'm not "stoner chris" or "druggie chris" anymore. So who am i? I'm a big brother, a friend, a son. Perhaps a lover. But i don't know about that last one. She's not contacted me. I wouldnt be so fucking paranoid if i wasn't coming down so hard. I'd like to be read. Just once in a while. I remember, though, while the comments i'd get were nice, they weren't very fulfilling. I don't know if there are many other users who can relate. And nobody knew where i was coming from, at all. Mum just reminded me of something the doctor said: i'm coming off the drugs, so coping with reality is going to make me somewhat irrational. Additionally, i'm coming off the anti-depressants, having not had any for a few days now, so it's even worse. Ellie, my best friend, can't support me, because she's still very much wrapped up in her own drug addiction, although i think she's improving. Matt needs to help her, though. He can get through it on his own, but he needs to be there for her. My family are being outstanding and incredibly understanding. But i just wish she would contact me, just to say, "hey, i'm ok, and how are you?". But no such thing. I won't pretend i'm not gutted. I'm comfort eating, and i don't know what to say to people anymore. I feel ignored. God, i never expected it to be this difficult! And people say marijuana doesn't rot your brain. Mood swings, too, i've been told. I'm unaware of them. I'm trying to do a lot of things at once, and i'm burning out. Constant headache. Comfort eating. I miss her. She could heal so much, i don't understand where she is. But i'm still keeping fit. And, DAMN, i look good.

She likes to watch the people, as they pass her by. She likes to see their eyes flicker to each other's, she likes to watch them breathe. She likes to see them smile, and hug, and kiss, she likes the contact and the comfort. She likes to see when he buys her flowers, and when she kisses him back, and he's happy. She likes to watch the people. Her only wish, she tells herself, is to get out there, with all those pretty people, breathing with them, moving with them, being with them. She wants to meet the people who will kiss her cheeks in greeting, and the other people who will give her flowers and chocolates. She wants to feel the warmth of each person as they brush past. Oh, but she can't, she knows she can't, she can't, she can't. Tonight, she prays. Prays to be with the others, to be part of it all. Prays to be involved, to be unified. Prays to be able to touch them. Because, that's all she really wants. Morning comes, and she hopes she is free. She hopes to be able to reach out to all of them. She hopes, and so she proceeds. And, for the briefest of moments, she is able, she is among them. She feels her soul lift up high into the clouds, with them all, and finally feels it. Oh, but then. She notices something strange, something unusual, something she's never noticed before, through her mirror eyes. She notices the tears of the people, she notices the hurt on their expressions. She notices the aimlessness of their wanderings, and no longer is the drip-drip-dripping of each tiny raindrop so exciting anymore, no longer does she stand in awe. She looks harder, but only seems to push her people even more from forms of beauty to objects of selfish demands and desperation. She realises how free she truly was before. And all she can do is stand. Night falls, and the people she loved dissapear, leaving just a few rushing around her, in and out of doors, refraining to hesitate, or even establish eye contact. She's waiting for someone to bring her the flowers, to kiss her, to greet her; Waiting for nobody, her tears fall from her cheek, devouring her entity, and no-one will stop to save her, to help her, to comfort her. The sun makes it's return, drying her icy tears, hardening them against her flesh. As dawn breaks, her very own wish casts her into a stone casket of solid sadness, and she becomes another statue, another centre-piece to brighten up their self indulgant lives. ______________________________________________ an old short story. cant remember when i wrote it. part of a much larger story that's still in my head.

music: pink floyd - meddle I was sitting on a bus on the way home from work, i noticed how many beautiful, beautiful girls were around. For a long time, i've not paid attention. One girl stood next to me as i sat, since the bus was crowded. She was far from beautiful, and smelt bad, like the guy with her. Her fingernails, which she'd wrapped around a pole in front of my face, were disgusting. She was seemingly unaware of herself as she forced her huge arse into my face and she spun around. This moment i related to something i'd been talking to my little brother about. I've been trying to convince him to take more care in his appearance. This is why: If you can't look good for you, why would you look good for me? If you can't take care of yourself, how could you take care of me? If you can't be aware of yourself, how can you be aware of me? Everybody exists in their mind, that is true. But they also exist, as single people in the everyday world, in the minds of others. You are a character in someone else's world, and the way you see yourself is not the way any other person will see you. They will see only what you show them. If you do not care about the way you present yourself to people, people will not care for you, finding you unapproachable and creepy. I often make myself overly approachable in my manner, which is creepy too. It's a difficult balance to achieve if you've never practised it, but you can see it in effect in nearly everybody you meet. ____________________________________________ I have a dreadful habit at work that i'd forgotten for a long time, since for months now i've been turning up to work stoned. This was alright, but i didn't need the drugs. I didn't realise this until recently, after giving up being such a chronic marijuana smoker. I know now that the energy that brightened my stoney days didn't come from the weed, it came from me. I don't need drugs. It's taken me months to realise this. Anyway, not being constantly stoned means i've gone back into my ways of constant mood shifting. One mood is a hyper mood; if i'm busy and active, instead of getting tired out, i feel more and more energised, especially when i'm dealing with customers. There's a sleepy mood where things slow down a bit, and there's a mellow, calm mood, where everything makes sense. Then there's the horny mood, where i can't stop thinking about running my tongue across a warm body. It's in this mood that i developed a particular habit of flirting with whoever i like. I don't do this because i'm interested in the customer i'm serving, but instead, because it makes them feel wanted; i look at them as if to say, "i could be the one to make you happy", and they smile back a smile that's reserved for a feeling they don't often experience. I enjoy giving them this feeling. After all, a lot of people have it a lot, but many rarely have it at all.

music: boy (songs to lie to) When she departed, it was hard. I walked around a corner, to a private place, rolled a ciggerette and wept. Then i marched onward to the police station, on unrelated business. They were busy, rendering the trip pointless. The rest of the day, i didn't miss her. Not even when i looked at the girl on my wall, the one who looks like her. I wondered how i would feel the next day. I understand that she needed to leave. But i will change. I never stay the same for too long. I want to give her everything i can, but i know that i'm not getting what i need. If i continue giving what i am, i will have nothing left of myself for me. What does she want to take? And what is it that i want? What worries me is that she finds it hard to live in reality. I want to hold her and show her how beautiful everything is, but she's not ready to see it. If she's not present, i cannot hold her. This is what is called thinking too much. But if she wants to be a child again, i must be responsible for her. This is not something i am willing to be. The most annoying thing about all of this is that in a minute, an hour, a night, all my thoughts will be different. Right now i am sad, my pills are working but i still hurt. I'm ranting about her because i feel as though she never listens to me. At least, not for long. When i do say something, i do not feel as though it is accepted or acknowledged. These are all things i've tried to tell her, but she's interupted or stopped listening and shut off. This makes me feel worthless. I sat at the bus stop and cuddled into myself. I miss her voice on the phone, or when she sings, or that creepy laugh. I miss her eyes, the way they penetrate me and pull me into her. All this boils down to me being scared of hurting her. But she doesn't feel the same. And i miss comfort, yes, and i miss a presence i can rely on, but i miss her smell, her drawings, her belly and thighs, her "imperfections" that i can't understand why she hates. I miss how she hates them. I miss making her happy. I just hope i really do that. I didn't miss her yesterday because i couldn't. I told my family that she was gone for a while, and they said they understood. They said i might be moody, temperemental, snappy, aggressive, emotional, upset, and i said, yeah. I'd pulled myself together after leaving her earlier, and i couldn't let myself fall apart again. But something happened yesterday that set my mind in motion, and instigated my realisation that she's not what i want. I am a romantic, i thrive on the concept of love. I dissappeared into my attic yesterday and found countless letters from old lovers. I remembered the way these people had made me feel, and realised that she doesn't make me feel that way, and that is what's missing. So i will try to stop loving her, because if i continue to do so, i will resent her for not loving me back. Instead, i should want her, like she wants me. Everything up to this point now feels meaningless. ________________________________________ And that is where i intended to finish, but my fingers are still hard at work. I am on a mission to change my life. I remember how sometimes, when i was feeling the need to be needed, i would scroll through someone's post to see if there was a mention of me. Beyond and before, i would ignore. But that's taking something out of context. And you may miss minor mentions. I'm angry. I have to tell my mother i despise the man she loves, and that i may have to press criminal charges against someone who stole a lot from me. And so i'm taking it out in whatever way i want, and you know why? Because i know that nobody is going to read this far! Ha! Now, Alan, my mother's ex-fiance, or as she calls him, her "partner". He's a fucking arsehole and i hate the way he treats her. I remember him entertaining her with stories of his racist bullying, him calling her a shithead, or never knowing when enough was enough. Reminds me of my best friend (Ellie)'s ex-best friend Malcolm. I wondered why i can't stand that boy so much. Anyway, i called him a monkey once during a heated arguement with my mother, so he strangled me. Which is rational, right? And that's the kind of person he is. A fucking cunt. Now, i admit, my attitude towards him does sound a little harsh, but if you were in my position when she told me she was sick of him, lying on a hospital bed after having her womb removed and having no support from him whatsoever, i think you'd have the same opinion of him as i do. She was fucking terrified, and he let her hurt. And that is why i hate him, and always will. Unfortunately, she loves him, and always will. So, i can never say this to her, because it will all be meaningless. I'm reading an excellent book called "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus" (by John Gray. I HIGHLY recommend it). This is how it relates to what i'm writing: Basically, when men ("Martians") are upset, they withdraw, and talk to people only if they want to blame someone or get a solution to their problem(s). When women ("Venusians") are upset, they talk. It seems that having a very weak influence from my father growing up has meant that i've learnt to deal with problems through my mother, coping the Venusian way: "To feel better, women talk about past problems, future problems, potential problems, even problems that have no solutions. The more talk and exploration, the better they feel." I am upset, and that is why i am writing and writing. It's making me feel better, and i won't have to think about the things i've written any more. This is good, because it means i will forget that i am resentful towards "her" (that i spoke of earlier), and simply miss her. If anything i've written about comes up at a later date, i may be able to think more clearly about it now that i've re-ordered my thoughts a little. I think i decided that i miss her, but that i'm giving too much. The problem is, though, that she treats me like a lover, and then expects me not to behave like i love her. Once, i went into town with her to meet a friend of hers called Sam. She was very cuddly all the way until we met him, and then walked off in front of me holding his hand, leaving me trailing behind. This is what hurts me the most: that she uses me when she needs me, then ignores me when she doesn't. I try to be there for her constantly, but she doesn't seem to care. I attempted to explain this to her recently, but she told me i shouldn't feel the way i was feeling, invalidated my feelings, and made me feel stupid and even more unwanted. However, i recognised this, with help from John Gray's wonderful book! I was able to tell her that i wasn't blaming her (remember: Martians talk when upset to ask for a solution, or to place blame. She thought i was placing blame, and i just needed her to understand that i was hurting. When she did, i felt accepted and loved again! Yay!) So, my new mission in life: To actually start a life. It may involve moving in with Ellie and her boyfriend and her brother, but i don't know if they'll be able to keep up with the pace i'll need to move at. If i stop or slow down, i'll run out of energy and shutdown. I'm going to get a job, move BACK in with my mum (now that Alan's gone there's no friction any more, and i've grown up substantially and learned to function independantly. Yay again!). I'm filled with ambition and ideas. Plus, since i'm no longer a stoner, i'm not going to be blowing a ridiculous amount of money on unnesecery drugs (although, being stoned at work means that i'm guaranteed to have a great day there). I'm washing my face with Clearasil stuff to get rid of my spots, and i got my belly button pierced (which i've wanted to do for god-knows-how-long now; on the 18th of August i had it done, with Matt & Ellie outside, upstairs in Urban Piercings. Ellie was the first to see it after i took the bandage off, then i showed my mum, little sister BJ, Lin, Kayleigh and Laura, who were sitting together on the hill by the bridge that leads to the park outside the house). I'm going to start going to the gym again, so that i can eat without worrying about being fat (i eat very little to stay thin. If i'm working out, any fat will turn into muscle). I'm still working on conquering my fear of spiders, and i'm gonna be brave and try to pull. I need to remember that i don't belong to anyone. I also need some new music, a good stereo, a bulb for my lava lamp, and i'm going to build some huge bookshelves for my bedroom. If i have not done any of these things by the new year, i will have failed. Now, i am tired and hungry, and must stop writing, for my fingers have been bounging over these keys for over an hour now and will surely fall off if i do not. Goodnight. ________________________________________ Revision: I -am- getting what i need. The concept of romantic love is a silly one; it exists until the passion dies. So, i will dissolve it from my mind, and love her the way i always have. And, so what if she doesn't see the world the way i see it? She can be whatever the damn hell she wants to be, and who am i to judge?? She will always see what she wants to see. If she needs my help, my guidance, i trust that she knows i am here for her. So long as she is happy, so shall i be. She's constantly changing my opinions of all manner of things, and i can't help but wonder what i will learn from her next. ________________________________________ Re-Revision (2008): It's hard reading this material, with it's constant fluctuations in beliefs and desperate want to cling on to the girl. It seems pathetic, but i was there, that was me writing. I can understand how i became so numb to reality and so wrapped up in here, it's a typical love-withdraw-love mode of behaviour (except backwards; there was always more withdrawl than love). And i know that this kind of behaviour can easily lead to a dependance. Still though it seems rather sad, and it's difficult accepting that this person, who was ready to abandon the ideals of love which he stands so strongly for, was once me. (20 Oct. 2008, Lancaster University)

Browsing the web for more chris bloomfields: One is an arboretum coordinator at Stranahan Arboretum. Another is an energy consultant at Exergy, Australia. Another is part of the 'Online Distributed Proofreading Team' @ Uni of Florida. Another is a sales representative for Kenroc Building Materials, US. Another holds the top time (11.6) for 80m in the U11 of kahuhac.co.uk (???). Another is another. I was trying to listen to my dolphin lighter, to see if any gas was coming out. Now i have burnt ear hair, and it smells gross. Also, i've given up being a stoner. It's completely counter-productive. I feel real ambition for the first time in my life. Lucy, if you're reading this, please contact me. I can't find you. I found a 256mb memory stick in my attic today, loaded with great hip-hop, dance, and some other stuff. 4 hours of music my little sister likes. I shaved my left arm 2 days ago. I did it because i'd shaved my arm before, but couldn't remember why, so i figured, maybe if i did it again, i'd remember. I didn't.

It's my little brother Bob's birthday today. I swear the boy's a genius, he just hasn't realised his potential yet, and he's growing cocky too. This worries me; i used to be the same, and i'd hate for him to turn out anything like me. I think i've grown up to be a pretty stereotypical "big brother". I'm one of life's drop-outs, i think, and i enjoy the things that come with this. I know i can do better, but something's pulling me back. Most probably, i'm simply too lazy. I'm in a pretty shit mood, one of the reasons being that i had a lot of trouble sleeping last night. I couldn't settle my thoughts, and the heat was terrible. I went to bed around 2:30am and got woken up 2 hours later by Bob's cat. Then finally woke up another 2 1/2 hours after that to give the boy his presents, since it had to be done early, so he could get to school on time. Why am i writing all this? It's just a bunch of meaningless bullshit. Oh yeah, i was describing my mood, and it's causes. I've been feeling pretty rotten for a-g-e-s. Apparently, according to my mum, i've been low for the past few weeks. This is probably true, but i can't be sure myself, because i find it difficult to keep track of my mood. The people i generally associate with, as mentioned in the previous entry, no doubt play a part in my mood droop. I can't feel positive about myself with my best friends are both jobless and have only one or two cares in life. I'm worried about them, but it is hard to feel concern when they do it to themselves. And i do love them. I love them so much, it hurts to seem them like this. I can feel the distance i'm creating in my attachment with them, to avoid hurting so much when they hurt themselves. I never wanted to do this, but i can't cope otherwise. I wish i could tell them this. I know i'm a "depressive", although i do try to deny it. I don't like being something, and i shy away from help in denial. My tics are getting harder and harder to cope with, and i don't have the control over them that i used to. Since, until very recently, i'd decided that i probably don't have Tourette's Syndrome, despite all the obvious evidence, having to face up to it after all my life has been pretty tough. My emotional barriers are strained, and i'm falling apart too easily. I think this is a much nicer way of saying "i'm hurting" than the representations of my feelings in 'boy' or 'tc'. If you are reading this, this paragraph will not make sense to you unless you've knkown me from before. Sometimes, though, it's good to push it all out in it's rawest form. I'm worried about my family, too: Bob, as i wrote, isn't applying himself sufficiently in school, and is also being bullied daily, which feeds his confused anger towards people. This is dangerous, because this anger must come out, lest he bottle it inside himself and have to deal with the trouble of containing such a fury. Kyle, who's one year younger than me, and was hence closest to me while we were growing up, is having to deal with a great deal of pain everyday, and is never going to get better. I'm crying thinking about this. I wouldn't wish this on anyone, let alone him. I wish i could take it away, just for a little while, without dizzying drugs, just to give him a break. I need to move on. My mum's obsession with dogs means that you can't move in the house without tripping over an animal, and the house stinks. The first two dogs we had, who are still here, amongst the others, don't get half as much attention as they ever did. They can't. And mum's wearing down, she has been for a long time now. She's still strong, but she's very lonely. Having to do so much for everybody else means she has very little time for herself as well, so her degree of everyday self-involvement is off balance; i think she's loosing her ability to judge when to be selfish and when not to be, simply because she rarely has the oportunity to actually be selfish. I am not putting her down. Most people are selfish a huge percentage of the time, and not being able to be this way, she has to think of herself sometimes. These times are not necessarily the most appropriate of times. As i said, i am not putting my mother down. I am very worried about her wll being though. My little sister, Bryony, is doing fine, apart from the odd sulk and/or tantrum. Her father still spoils her, which doesn't work out well when she comes back home to 2 other boys who both need attention, perhaps more than she does. All in all, i guess they're a happy bunch, or at least, they do try to be. And i do love them, i hope they know that.

This is the fourth re-write for this entry. I'm currently homeless. My mother has kicked me because, she says, she "doesn't wanna lose what we have" between us. She's says kicking me out because she fucking cares. I'm at my dad's place. Everybody knows i'd still be back there, back at mum's house, if i couldn't have come here. If i couldn't come here, my mother would be FORCED to resolve this. Instead, she'd rather dispose of what she sees as a problem; even if that means throughing her own son out with no where stable to go to. I've forgotten about all this other stuff i've written, so fuck all that. It's no longer at all important. Yes, i was furious that this sonofabitch* was fucking with my mum and my siblings (my younger brother in particular), and that truely pissed me off. But i don't actually care. I've learnt that when i care, things like this happen. *The Newest: see previous posts 'shithead-1' and 'shithead-2'. I'm s'posed to start counselling again. My mother honestly believes i need to do MORE counselling. I've NEVER wanted to do counselling. The last person who coulselled me told me to stop coming because there was no problem that she could see. So, either my mother is the only one who sees this enormous problem, or there's a significant problem with her, and she's too stubborn to admit it. So i'm homeless. Does this mean i'm actually in a bad situation now? Now that my mother's shed my blood, bit and scratched me 'cause i held her back off of me, not that her finance put his hands around my throat? Not to my mother, no. It will all pass over, everything will be ok. Because if she throws me out, i can go to my fathers. If i can't find a place, his landlord will find christ and let me stay there. If the landlord doesn't undergo a mircale personality change, the super-duper effieciency of the gorvernment system will no doubt sort me out! It's all a big joke to this woman. It's like some dream that she seems to think she can just wake up from whenever she wants. If my mother was being at all down to earth, she wouldn't have made me homeless; she'd have coped with me for the final 5 weeks of my schooling, then helped me find a place of my own. I'm angry at myself, though, as always. I can never stay angry at anybody else. If she fucks up, i give her an excuse. I know this is going a little off topic, but i want to say this. I still can't hold a grudge. I always stay strong. And it's agonizing. I cant cry because i have to be there for my girlfriend, who's going through a stressful time as her boyfriend is currently homeless, and my mother, who's son has got far too difficult to handle and has had to be boted out of the household. I'm so tired of it. Edited 24 March 2005, 08:45pm Edited 30 March 2005, 02:00am