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Back To Blank

3 Jun

I’m happier with t his one than the last.


The Only Thing A Bad Man CAN Do, Is Keep A Good Man Away

2 Jun

Dear Cunt,

This is the absolute very last bit of time and energy i will ever waste on you.

You never deserved 5 minutes, let alone 15 years, of the very best of me. My time, my affection, my love. I literally gave you everything i am, everything i have, and you pissed all over it. It was meaningless to you.

I imagine you think i’m gonna cave sometime soon, like always. Think again. I can feel it; this time it’s different. I’m different. I’m not missing you, pining for you, building up a picture of you in my head that is a complete mis-representation of who you are, and what we were. You can no longer let me down and disappoint me, because i see you exatly as you really are. So keep checking your phone. There will never be another text from me again.

I am finally free, not just from you, but from the Love that bound me to you for what might have been the best years of my life. It’s as if i have woken from a very long, very disturbing dream. I am left shattered and broken after everything.

But i am still here, stronger than you thought, aren’t i?

One thing comforts me. I will never be alone like you are.

You might be able to charm, to fake, to play at being a good guy. But people sniff out the dog in you soon enough.

You are incapable of any kind of love, except for yourself. No one wants to be  around that.

It’s better than before; this time i know i have not lost anything. Last time i felt like everything precious was gone.

Now i know you aren’t worth the paper you’re written on.

I don’t morn you anymore.

You were always nothing. Now you are nothing to me.


On Blogging: From The Sublime To The Ridiculous

2 Jun

Camera Angles Of The Mind

31 May

It’s as if my mind is an abstract film with only one camera angle at any one time. If the camera stays in the same place for a length of time, i start to feel a bit more self-assured, stable, aware of a me?

But at any given moment, the camera can zoom out and spin round, fly up or drop down, and adopt a completely different position. From that position the world, me, and my place in it will all seem (be?) completely different.

For a little while, this makes me feel afraid and anxious, because nothing makes sense, reality is fluid…which view is real, which me is me? Are they all real, all truths? Some, but not others? All illusions?How to tell the difference? I can’t trust my own perception.

Does my subconscious try to shield me from some things that i do not want to acknowledge, but sometimes get glimpses of? Is this why it feels frightening? The destructive behaviours that i use to function, are they protected by my subconscious: I do not allow myself to recognise the counter-productive nature of them (most of the time), and is this why i am unable to stop it, even though it exhausts me, and i am consciously convinced i want to stop? Short term vs long-term: feeling better now vs being better overall. Progress vs developmental delay.

If the camera does not settle, and instead fits and panics, trying out different views but finding no foot hold in any of them, then i will suffer a dark and confusing period, for X amount of time.

If the camera settles again, eventually I’ll start to feel something that resembles security, stability. I thinks that view is what i am, who i am, where i am.

Until, without warning or reason, it will move again.

Why Do We Cry?

28 May

I cannot cry anymore, at least not at the moment. This is alien to me. It’s not a bad thing per se, except i feel like i need to cry and i can’t.

Usually i cry so much, so often and so easily (from nowhere, sometimes) that it is embarrassing. I’m the one silently weeping on the bus. Usually.

I stopped taking all medication a couple of months ago…so it’s not that. I self-medicate with weed, but that’s been consistent for the last 10 years or more, so it’s not that.

I need to cry but it’s staying hidden under the surface, bubbling away, gaining momentum, liable to come crashing down on my like a ton of sand to suffocate me, at any given moment.

Why can’t i cry? I think it’s cos I’ve had enough, the sadness is exhausting and overwhelming, it wrings me out. Ultimately, it is useless.

I remember once in a biology class at school, asking the teacher why we cry. Not the physical aspect, but what purpose it serves; the tears, the snot, the guttural sounds. He could not answer me, and i have wondered about it many times since.

We are social creatures, we live, strive, thrive on our interactions with other humans. From an evolutionary perspective, it’s one of a few reasons why our species has been so successful.

I think crying is a communicative display; it’s a visual sign that conveys an internal state to others. It says ‘i feel awful, please help me, comfort me’, in much the same way as a smile says ‘hey, i’m approachable, come say hi!’. For babies, it’s probably the most effective form of communication, and a very useful survival mechanism.

Maybe i can’t cry anymore because i know it is useless. My sadness is a very private thing that few people are aware of, and even those closest to me that are aware, are not aware of the crippling extent of the desolation i often feel exploding in my solar plexus and infecting my soul. I wouldn’t want to worry them with it.

If i have cried, wept, screamed, i have done so in private. It sucked away all my energy left me drained and sore and broken…and it didn’t fulfil a purpose, it didn’t communicate my pain to anyone that could hold me and make me feel safe.

So my body has gone on strike. It is refusing to take part in such an exhausting pharce. It won’t cry.

I thought i would feel better if i didn’t cry, back when i couldn’t stop it, but i don’t. I feel anxious, like I’m walking a knife-edge. I feel sort of detached from everything, not just from everything else, like usual, but from everything, my own self included. I feel like I’m watching myself, like the person who feels things is not me but just someone i observe closely, because i do not relate to her and her emotions. I do not relate to anything.

Yes, i should stop smoking. I’m sure the waves would come crashing in then. I’m in this little cotton-wall bubble, shielded from feeling anything, good and bad.

But i am (reasonably) safe, and that is something.


Have You Seen This?

24 May

Have You Seen This?

It’s really rather good…

The Problem With Headphones

23 May

I cannot believe i am here, writing a post about headphones that describes them  in something other than a purely positive light.

I am a muso, through and through. I FUCKING LOVE music. I have very specific tastes although i can appreciate most any kind of music, maybe for its power at conveying a feeling, or its style, or technical genius, or a thousand and one different things. The only type of music i can’t stand, off the top of my head, is commercial country. Apart from that I’ll dip my toe in pretty much anything.

Then there is the music i LOVE (you can see a lil cross-section here, if you’ve got more time on your hands than me (if so: WHY ARE YOU WASTING YOUR LIFE?!?!). The music i love has rescued me a million different times, from a million emotional black holes. It can soothe me or rouse me, make me question my beliefs, or reinforce them. It completely transcends anything else that is going on in my world; it can envelop me and provide a buffer between me and the not-me. It has been my life long friend and i know it will never abandon me.

I can play a couple of instruments (with varying degrees of success!) and i LOVE to sing. I think singing is to me like purring is for cats; the vibration, the healing, the connection to something deep and primitive within. I never stop singing, much to the annoyance (and occasionally, pleasure) of the victims people in my life. In all my school reports, from as far back as we have kept, somewhere they always say ‘she sings well’. I’m not amazing or anything, i just can carry a tune. There’s nothing better than a beautifully sunny day, a blue sky, a couple of doobies, a few friends and me, takin our instruments to sit somewhere on the green grass and jam. Ahhh…heaven!

So yeah, you get it, I ❤ music!

I love headphones,  not just because they allow you to take your soundtrack anywhere you want, but also because they allow you to experience the music as if it’s coming from inside your own head. It’s really a magical thing for someone like me; you may have listened to a song a thousand times all your life, but if you listen to it through your headphones, you’ll hear bits you never noticed before, and all the familiar bits become even more tangible, all the reasons you loved it in the first place are heightened too. Try it, g’wan. I betcha 10 quid I’m right (well, not literally 10 quid, for all i know you could be deaf…).

I ❤ music, therefore i ❤ headphones. (NB I’m not one of those highly irritating people who force you to listen to my music on the train. Jus’ sayin’).

Up until today, i thought headphones were one of those rare and sacred, purely good things in this confusing life.


I have one of those all-singing-all-dancing-all-tea-making-smart-phone things;  this little baby provides me with my music on the move. Recently, i updated the phone and wiped all my music, with the intention of putting some new stuff on there, but I’ve had far more important things to do (like writing to you for instance), so i haven’t got around to it. This means that lately, when I’ve gone walking, I’ve had no music to distract me from my thoughts.

I’ve done so much good thinking lately, wondering while wandering. Until today, I never knew how much good thinking i could get done when i was walking and not distracted by music. For the first time in a few weeks, i replaced my music and had my headphones in while walking again. I had a smashing time listening to Lit – A Place In The Sun, but i didn’t get nearly as much useful thinking done as i did when i had no music;  my ears open to the world and my mind silent.

Health and productivity is all about balance. I will never hang up my headphones for good, but maybe from now on, once or twice a week, I’ll go wandering without them.

Getting Better/Staying The Same

22 May

The first and only other blog i ever made prior to this one, was on LiveJournal, and i called it Blurred Edges. This one is called FringeWalk, obvs. I think I’ve given myself a subconscious clue there, to who i really am (?) or at least, how i feel.

Blurred Edges – I think i was trying to convey the sense of uncertainty, of not knowing who i am and who i am not, of being unsure of myself and others and the world and having no clear sense of when one stopped and another started.

FringeWalk – It’s kind of the same thing; i still have no real sense of self, except it’s about 10 years later and i am more empowered, or at least, for the moment i am. I take ownership of feeling so confused about my own identity, and try to see that as some kind of identity in itself.  Fringewalk because i exist on the edges of everything, not really a part of anything, not really belonging anywhere. I can be with this set of people, or that set of people, for an amount of time…but nobody misses me when i am gone.

I can be this or that thing at any given moment, and fully believe that is what i am, in the moment.

I used to see this as a weakness because it can leave me feeling very isolated, lonely, sad, not valid, worthless. But sometimes these days, i am seeing it as a strength, because it offers an interesting perspective. Plus, it’s what i am (or what i do?) and it isn’t liable to change anytime soon. So mayaswell make the best of it.

I’ve noticed that i am (generally) more emotionally consistently lately. consistently low, unmotivated, sad. But consistent, stable-ish, which is something for me.

I attribute this to a couple of things.

First and foremost, i am not in any kind of relationship, and haven’t been for the longest period in my adult life. Previous to this, maybe i’d gone 2 weeks single since i was 14, and i’m normally involved in some kind of romantic trauma or drama, even if i’m not in a proper relationship. For about the past 2 years now, i have been officially single, and for about the last month, i’ve not been romantically involved with anyone.

This is good for me.. I have spent so much of my life holding on to things that aren’t worth having, being in abusive relationships, being dependant on someone else. I have always sought validation from external sources. I think that if someone else loves me, then i must be lovable, worth something, a human being who is just as valid as everyone else. If someone doesn’t want me, i am useless, ugly, unlovable, fat, worthless, stupid.

If I’m completely honest with myself (and you) i still hold this belief, even if i know it to be false. But i am on my own, single, and I’m still alive, I’m still here, nothing terrible has happened. I am finally facing a fear that has literally terrorized me my whole life, and I’m still here. I am not happy (that is because i am an ungrateful twat who doesn’t appreciate how lucky i am, not really), but i am here. I am here, and the sun is shining outside my window.

Secondly, i have very recently moved back in with my Beautiful Dad. He has his own mental health problems that i worry about, but all in all, this is the safest, most consistent place i could be (and my beautiful boy can be). It is a good place to regroup, rethink, heal. Every day at some point it crosses my mind that i am lucky to have this option, that my parents divorced (very recently – finally!) and so i have a place with my dad. I feel  afraid and upset when i think about the alternative, and the reality for some people less fortunate than myself. Thank fuck for my Beautiful Dad.

So, I’ve been less scattered lately, miserable, but peaceful, no drama. I feel worn out from everything; in my mind’s eye i imagine myself as a naked, broken heap piled carefully on the floor. I know that doesn’t sound very positive, but it is, cos nothing is attacking me (I’m not attacking me?), no more injuries being sustained, no more wounds inflicted to get bruised, sore, scarred, infected. If nothing is attacking me, then i have opportunity to heal.

This improvement is manifested by:

  • Far less frequent self-harming, or urges to self-harm. If i do, it is minor and/or subconscious.
  • Less reactive to stressful situations. This is a work in progress; im not saying i don’t react. But I’m less prone to feel uncontrollable rage. Which means less likelihood of a) losing everyone i love and b)developing a tumour. Go me!
  • Have actually taken the time recently to explore things i might enjoy, particularly self-expression (evidence by the existence of this post, and blog!)
  • Have (very slowly) started to think about entering back into the Realms Of Real Society. I have to keep a toe in the water (fingewalk!) on account of my Perfect Boy, but in honesty, i do the minimum possible,; only what i have to do so that i can lessen my guilt about my mental health effecting him. He has birthday parties, we go to soft play, play group, the beach, picnics, etc regularly. But i hate every single minite of it, i dread it, i make myself do it, because i love him so much. But that is it, that is as far as myself and society dance. I gave up working when my relationship with Daddy Moonbags failed and have fallen ever deeper into isolation since. But, i’ve just volunteered for some work in my community, for a cause i really believe in. I have been stalling, panicking, worrying about it (that’s another post!) – but i do want to do it, and i am trying. that is a big step…3 months ago – no way.

So, in those ways, i’m doing better.

In other ways, not so much. I am still smoking an obscene amount, enough to pacify myself, my emotions, in order to avoid the feelings. I am still very isolated and pointless. Nothing i do has any real meaning or gives me any lasting joy or peace or love. I crave love and attention and affection. I think it will make everything better, even though i know it won’t; the kind of thing i’m looking for or expecting, doesn’t even exist.

I feel hopeless and i don’t think my stupid mind remembers what self-esteem is.I feel like life is only a series of fragments that i can’t piece together. I feel frustrated that i can’t do it, can’t do what everyone else seems to manage with ease.

If it wasn’t for my Perfect Boy and my Beautiful Dad, i think i’d probably want to die. I wouldn’t have the guts to go through with it, but i’d want to.  I think about it quite a lot, but don’t worry, i am sensible and i love my baby far too much. There has only been one time, during a very bad period, when i was in mental chaos and anarchy reigned, did i ever seriously believe (and only for a moment) that my Perfect Boy might be better off without me. That thought is dangerous. But even in that chaos, i still had the observational capability to be shocked by the thought, and that shock brought me back to my senses.

I’d never before felt like that and never understood parents that choose to leave their children, even knowing how harrowing living with this shit inside your head all your life can be. But in that second, i did, and i felt so sorry for being so ignorant and uncompassionate before. Being a parent doesn’t change the fact that you’re fucked. It just makes you feel more guilty for being this way, which in itself starts a vicious cycle. All you can do is endeavour to keep it away from your baby, to surround him with positive people, to love him immeasurably, and to make sure he knows he’s worthy of all that love, and more.

I am annoyed with myself for being so whiney and unappreciative of this Life Gift, and then i am annoyed that i am so hard on myself, when i afford others sympathy.

I am tired of thinking, tired of trying to find answers, tired of coping and managing. I am so immensely bored of myself.

I wish i could realistically picture a time in my life when i don’t feel this empty. I try to , and sometimes, in good hours, i almost think it could be possible. I imagine being part of a family, with a man who loves me, really loves, me, and My Perfect Boy, and some more perfect babies. When i picture myself in that life, i imagine i am happy.

But i know that life is an impossibility for me, because i turn everything to shit, i am so hard to have a relationship with, that isn’t a remotely realistic option.

There i go again, thinking love will save me.

Only i can save me. But i don’t know where to start, or how to stop the waters rising.

We Are One

16 May

It’s only been a couple of days but I’m loving this blogging business. It’s certainly filling a hole. Is there a honeymoon period, more experienced bloggers? Haha, today i rushed home quick so i could sit here and write to you, you’re like my new boyfriend! :s

I dunno if everyone feels a certain sense of isolation within their lives, if it’s part of the human condition, if it’s part of modern life, or if it’s just me…but i do, some times more acutely than others.

I haven’t even interacted too much on here yet; I’ve discovered a few blogs that i check regularly and have commented on, and a couple of very nice people have engaged me. Here are my faves so far:

Isn’t a sense of community just lovely? It’s too soon for me to be experiencing that in full yet, but im certainly seeing the potential, and already i don’t feel so isolated or dis-connected from everyone else 🙂

I’m completely in love with the idea of shared thoughts, shared experience across the distances that separate us all. I love the idea that I’m sat here, in a suburban garden somewhere in the south of England, writing my most mundane/reflective/interesting/pointless thoughts, and almost instantly, a complete stranger somewhere in Lao, whose values, lifestyle and struggles may be entirely different to mine, can read it. I can read about anything and everything, from the weird and wonderful to the tedious or offensive or non-sensical, and it’s all personal, all from the horse’s mouth. I absolutely love it!

I love the sense of freedom too. Power to the people! We are no longer reliant on newsgroups with their own agendas to inform us about global goings-on. We can talk to each other! I get a real sense of wonderment from that, it makes me feel hopeful.

I’m pretty sure I’ve not yet used a fraction of the features on it yet too. I’m looking forward to exploring the range of mediums i can post in because it’ll give me much more of an expressive range. I like to write songs and sing; i’m hoping soon i’ll be brave enough to post one. I’m working on something at the moment, maybe that’ll be the one.

I like to paint n stuffs too, and i’d like to explore visual expression more. I’d like to learn how to use a program that i could make cool cartoons on, any suggestions? I’s like to learn how to use stop motion too. I like these blogs particularly because of the visuals:

Anyway, my creative motivation has been given a new lease of life by having this platform, where we can share our shit.

Ballbags to people who warn us about the dangers of the internet (all that porn etc). Freedom is not to be feared!

The internet seems like the biggest step in the last…forever, in uniting us all. The collective consciousness manifest. Cos after all, we are one.

Love to you reading this, in whatever remote corner or busy metropolis you find yourself at this moment.

Writer’s Block: When Your Imaginary Friends Won’t Talk To You…

15 May

There are infinate things to write about and that’s probably part of the problem. It’s as if there’s this mass of thoughts, concepts, experiences and other abstracts that make up a soul, all whizzing around like a blurry globe inside my mind (well, when i envision it, it’s in my solar plexus). It’s difficult to slow it down enough to select a tiny part of it, take it out, dust it down, examine and describe it with words to solidify here. It’s turned out slightly paradoxical, because in wondering what to write about, turns out that in itself has become the topic of this post.

It’s funny, I’ve sat here in front of this computer on and off for 2 days, trying to grasp what to write about, when previous to creating this blog, I was buzzing with creativity, with something to say. Every few days an idea would come to me, and I’d feel it take shape and form throughout the day.

Now i am here, i am blank. The page is long and white  and my brain is static and mundane. I’ve lost the flow.  Sod’s law.

Ima do me some readin’! Baby-bio for the brain!

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