total cathartic ramble

Tonight has been one of those nights that acts like a tourist ride around the inside of your mind.

I’ve listened to old songs, drank more, wrote more, drank more, listened to songs performed by a certain someone, drank more – I’m still not drunk!

I can’t get drunk anymore. Something, even after a bottle, prevents my mind from degrading to that state.

I’m two steps back, or so it seems. Except I’m not.

I’m miles ahead of myself generally. I’m only looking behind me and that is a perspective that is ‘hard’ to handle, but not impossible.

I’m looking at old pictures of a happier time. I’ve made my sorry letters and sent them to all the people I am really and truly sorry for hurting. The latest people I have hurt will have to wait until remorse hits me for them. It is tough to admit, but I’m really not all that repentant for the recent events in my life as they have all been wonderful. Or so I feel. I’ve gained a lot from them.

Pointless, I’m existing – breathing etc…

I’m trying to believe that, that is all I need to do – to just exist is enough of an accomplishment. It is.

I’m trying to figure out how past people truly felt – if there was any sincerity there. I’m trying to free myself for caring if they loved me like they said, but I will always be a creature who needs that form of affirmation.

I want to be adored, only right now am I learning that part of that is learning to adore yourself. Understanding that you have a lot to offer these people. Truthful qualities. So there is no need to mislead people into liking you anymore.

I’m a really nice guy, when I get rid of my defenses. When I pull down my ego and just relax I’m actually really sweet and tactile and loving to everyone.

The previous me was a heartless prick because he thought that was the way to stay alive. What I’ve learnt is that is the surest way to ensure your own end. Alone.

Instead, I’m drinking, laughing, joking, kissing, hugging, chatting and engaging with people that seem to see that I’m now just a bundle of honesty.

Sure that backfires, from time to time, you’ll tell someone something they don’t want to hear – but that is all down to the way they ask the question. They are responsible for their own feelings. As long as I keep being truthful, caring, happy. As long as I keep being me. I can ensure that I’m doing the best I can with the things I’ve been given.

Drink isn’t an issue, not if I’m honest. I just have to be truthful enough to admit when I am sad and feel like I need it. If I can say ‘you know what, I’m sad for no good reason’ and then make a cup of tea – then go me!

I’m listening to old songs, I’m not drinking, I’m writing, not drinking, listening to songs performed by a certain someone, adoring them for what they are – expression, poetry, music to sing along to – still not drinking.

I’m not after a medal, just after a little understanding. Just fancy shooting out an appology to all the people who might find this.

I’m sorry I was the old me for so long. I’ve changed. I’m missing elements I never respected or paid much attention to. I’m not coming back, I’m moving forward.

Filed under: Bath, Cup, Depression, Friends, Happy, about me, anxiety, much, music

condensed and retrenched

So Buddha (apparently) once said “There are two mistakes one can make along the road to truth…not going all the way, and not starting.”

I’m quite impressed and have to agree. If nothing is more true of life, then it is that I am at least a victim of many mistakes in the search for truth.

From conception many events have transpired that have set me up for the most cosmic/comic falls imaginable.

Such is life (as I experience it).

“Life is tough!” As a kitten once told me.

So, yesterday and today I have been reading over all my old blog entries… they are heartbreaking/vulgar/shameless little displays of my own egotistical world view, but there we go – what can I hope to be, except me.

Having finished putting together all these posts in their respective linear progression, I have also finished a very round journey. I’m right back to where I started 5 years back. A little wiser, but only a little. I don’t think I’ve learnt near as much as I should have. Lets look at what I’ve learnt.

I’ve learnt how to break hearts. Including my own.

Learnt that I can’t be left alone for longer than a few hours.

That you can’t make an effective bookshelf out of books.

The end.

Well… I also learnt how to feed myself. That’s at least one positive step forward.

I’ve never been very good with the whole feelings thing. I bury the truth away, even from myself. So at one moment I’ll be weeping over the spilt milk of a shift of mood and then, about an hour later, I’ve shifted back into this uncaring creature.

A defense mechanism kicks in to make me something of a robot. This heart of mine, all oiled up and prime.

The pills help now, they make ‘not caring’ a little easier. Also it helps me because they make me not care that I don’t care. I’ve always thought in loops.

Bundled time is a new concept to me, but bundled thoughts have always been abound.

This process keeps me in a cycle of contentment that helps perpetually – but it will also be a heavy thing to reflect on.

I hide away the truth – that I’m not happy about how things have gone over the last 2 months. I’m not happy about the last 5 years. I’ve chosen my own path, but I can’t help thinking that I should be a little more honest with myself and stop spinning cogs.

Ok, I’ll be honest – I don’t totally become numb – I just don’t think about things, bury it, a sky of weighted feeling to push down land and ocean of self-loathing.

That’s life.

It’s not that I understand why I feel bad at night, nor even why I seem to have the worst dreams imaginable. It’s not that I understand myself at all.

Condensed I guess I’d describe myself as two people – the together, social, contented me; and then the fetal, weeping, tormented me.

Thankfully the pills help me to be the together me more often.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this anymore – this was meant to be a well-rounded description of me. Almost meant to be a little apology to the world, maybe. But I seem to have hidden the truth from myself again.

Filed under: Cup, Depression, Existence, Friends, Lonely, Reality, Sad, about me, anxiety, hopes, solitary

bad intent

I love being single – the thought came whilst indulging in some Sangria with Lois yesterday. The sun shining, birds singing and then BAM! I decided to stop fighting against my bad nature.

I’m not playing cool – I’m a geek – I’m just playing through every wrong intention I might be able to indulge in.

It’s not about being hip, hurting people or distracting myself.

It’s about being more honest.

I’ve enjoyed myself very much as a singleton recently – but I’ve always felt a little guilty the next day.

I just found myself holding back so much, trying to be this perfect guy that is sweet and caring and gives a crap. I keep thinking that if I spend some time with a girl I have to commit to her.

I think its a maturity thing. I keep thinking that to be grown up you need to meet a girl, sleep with her quickly and then shut yourself away with her to be happy for a year or two and then have it all melt down.

I don’t feel the need to bullshit the world about who I am. I’m just not the guy who wants to do that yet.

I am caring, I am a nice guy – but I also want to flirt and be a nuisance to women! Just for a little while!

I like to drink and have a laugh. I’m a little Nicholas Mitchell. www.sittingbesideme.wordpress.com

Filed under: Cup, Day-to-day, Girls, Reality, about me, bed, hopes, nights out , guy, minx, nice, seeks

a water-balloon meets a bee

So, knowing – as you do – that my girlfriend and I broke up on the 26th of last month. Well… where to from there?

I came home and took up the task of mending myself. I’ve something, which I suspect can best be described as manic depression, though i wont jump the gun too much until the fact is settled.

I was having a depressive episode about a week before my relationship collapsed. In fact, I think it was a major element that swung my ex-girlfriend’s mind in favor of separation.

20th of Jan and I’m flat-lining on one of the worst depressions in my most recent history and so I ask her to stay around for me (in the sense that she stick in the house to keep my spirits up) – she goes out, which is fine (i figure she’ll be back) – she’s gone for pretty much the entire week – under the banner of band rehearsals. Which I guess was just her way of saying ‘i’m not really feeling the whole caring thing right now!’.

I’m not saying that I’m that sick I need a carer, but I was pretty sick and I just needed someone to watch dumb movies with and eat junk to keep me high on sugar. The Great Distracto!

I’m a sad little muffin – such a pathetic creature – regardless I held it together like a water balloon meeting a bee for the first time.

I hit rock bottom and she had a talk with me – I figured there was no point fighting it (i was beyond the capacity to want to save myself or any part of my life) – so I let her go and GOD do I feel better for that.

I do. No word of a lie, its done me good. I’m certain that the feelings I had for her wasn’t real love – just a deep caring and I know that that will change shape shortly. It’ll go the way of so many past loves, there are stages that I wont go into detail about.

So a few calls later and I’m back in Liverpool (the Wirral to be exact, i have no scouse accent [in fact none at all]). I’m pretty even right now – level as a spirit, you could say. Or maybe not.

I still get these ups and downs that last maybe an hour tops – just little blips before I lose the thread of them and wander off to distract myself with something new and shiny.

For the most part the pills are working and I should be referred over to see someone more specialistic soon.

Until then, I’ve written quite a bit of stuff that I’m going to post up here. That line between genius and madness is pretty thin after all.

p.s. I ask ya, who wants normal anywho – I’m so much more fun nuts than i am on these bloody pills – *yawn!*

Filed under: Cup, Depression, Girls, Happy, Love, Reality, Sad, about me, anxiety, cracks, much, nightmare, solitary, work

the start of things

Chapter One

Re-Genesis

 

 

Reality tearing sounds a little like the extended crashing of cymbals. It had a touch of ‘Revelation’ about it, with great lightening-bolt-like rips running down from the sky in a jagged pattern and, with a rumble of earth, stalactite counterparts reaching up to greet them. Once joined it all looked like a network of veins, or the strands of an epic haphazard web; ink running down a windowpane. The storms, which were a result of the rapid relocation of air, wreaked across the trembling landscape; trees were shaken loose from their roots. Light, too, seemed to change, grew more concentrated in places and in others the sun was eclipsed by the tall pillar-like openings that cast shadows without hems. Where cracks opened and met with the sea, The News showed the water pouring inwards and breaking into vapor that started to glow like embers. Embers that scattered in all directions inside the blackness, until they eventually put themselves out. Anything entering the openings did the same, exploding into a million fireflies that could be seen against the back-drop of black, until they faded out and died. Some cracks were thin, enough that one could circumvent them, like a tree, simply a nuisance to passing; others were as broad as skyscrapers.

 

A country singer, like Captain Wilco, might have described it better. Might just have drawn out a bit more majesty and sang a tune of going home soon, but most other expression pales.

 

Scientists, infinitely less lyrical, spoke like geologists; explaining that our reality had developed cracks along its ‘fault lines’. Announced that these were slowly expanding and that they would make the binding ribbons of our reality increasingly thin. Then they became bakers to explain how, like bread, once the ‘fibers’ of our reality were broken it would be torn apart piece by piece. Last of all they spoke like prophets and philosophers, explaining nothing past apocalyptic rhetoric and idol speculation; about worlds beyond and possible re-genesis on another dimensional plane. In the end it was all just black hole nonsense; nobody sane would believe that there was anything but oblivion on the other side. So, after the first of the ‘jumpers’; who had convinced themselves that what was needed was to ‘break on through to the other side’, most people had the sense not to accelerate their demise.

 

 When civilians saw it there were as many reactions as there were faces. Some wept, some screamed, others began to laugh like maniacs; while Cup Shonee, standing above the little town of Hosannah, just brought the bottle back to his lips and stood expressionless.

 

 fin.

 

 

more to come. 

Filed under: Captain Wilco, Cup, Hosannah, Re-Genesis, Reality, Shonee, books, cracks, hopes, mount, novel, prose, the novel, writing, writing the novel