More of me writing about the same old stuff. Because this is they only thing I can think of to do to pass the time. I think it might be better for me to swamp you with my stuff than to sit around drinking. Having said that I can't promise myself, either, that I won't be drinking tonight.
Who needs to rent a cabin in the country with a nice view when you are in lockdown and hear a clock ticking. That's the one other people check to see "How long till he snaps?"
It's my outlet and my refuge. I've always enjoyed writing, painting, wanted to do performance. I am aware that I touch up what I write to make it 'interesting'; 'enjoyable' doesn't really fit the bill. I like to write creatively. I wish I could do a straight up post without going over it and taking out whole sentences and qualifying assertions with little anecdotes and metaphores and generally just touching it up.
My anger at my situation, I won't call it my demise... yet,... is probably eveident. I've tried very hard to speak with those closest connections in this mess, and with respect, but my words lacked temper; either too intense, too far fetched, too cautious, incohesive or desperate. And it's hard to swallow what I have to say, I grant you that.
Despite all that I will grind a few words out. These days we have this internet thing, once upon a time this would have been a diary. This gives hope that at least someone, somewhere, will read what I have to say and, agree or disagree, I leave that up to you, the reader. But is it just false hope? Am I just urinating in the wind?
I've done some stupid things. I know and I make apologies to every person that has felt betrayed or embarrassed. There was a damaged heart and not much of a brain. I'm sorry. I had stuff inside that I didn't know I was dealing with.
But none of things compare to the stuff I have had to endure when I was a young person, and how there was no support for me then. No psychology to help the trauma pass or even any police enquiry. I mean, someones life was lost and the driver had pointed out that I had pushed this kid in the back. Nothing but tacit bullying. And when I try to point these things out it seems I throw more fuel on the fire every time. Because no-one believes me. They can't bring themselves to stand on my side. They know they'd be joining me on the plank.
So, "How's it going today, mate?"
"Winge." Or that's probably how it comes across. Well, that's how it's going. I can't do the small talk anymore. Not doing stiff upper lip. That's for the people who ply their agaendas at me.
Emergency, police & ambulance (24 Hrs)
Connect with a lifeline crisis supporter (24 Hrs)
Suicide callback service (24 Hrs)
Kids helpline (24 Hrs)
13 YARN