U turn at University

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So I have just returned home from my first term of university which involved the typical load the car up till everyone inside is like a tin of sardines, when your friends pretend to be the politest angels that ever graced the earth and of course the last night blow out which consists of you drinking so much even walking down the alcohol aisle again will make you feel hungover.

It would be fair to say even thinking about moving away to London to begin my new life studying history gave me a distinct wave of nausea and sent shivers shooting down my spine; however the overwhelmingly fantastic experience I have had so far has been unimaginable. It has both obviously and inevitably not all been roses and sunshine, there has been tears, tantrums and drama but overall the journey of self development you enter is incredible. After three months of stress, despair and some serious procrastination from essays I managed to receive firsts on all my assignments with the exception of one and my end of term exam!

However university has been about much more than grades for me, and no im not just referring to the heavy drinking and late nights waking up to people you wont recognise in the morning. I have met some of the most beautiful individuals that I have the pleasure of calling my best friends who have changed the world and the way in which I view it completely. They wiped away the tears, and hugged me so tight that all the broken pieces started to fit back together again, for friendship fundamentally underpins our success and our crucial to our development.

It is no secret that I do not really have a family but these group of beautiful people have become like family, we laugh with each other celebrate with one another and even cry on each other but hey that’s what families are for right! before I came to study at uni there was a whole in my heart and honestly I thought I was irreparable, but spending just three months with this crazy lot and I could not be more happy or successful. In my previous blog I refer to individuals who allow you eudomonia which Aristotle correlates to human flourishing – essentially being the best person you can possibly be, Alina, Rossni, Kit, Omar x 3 (a lot of Omars I know!!) Semone, Gavin, Sach, Nick and Theo, Hary sj, Harry M, Coco, Keiran and lewis have all contributed to creating this environment and words will never be able to convey my gratitude too them.

Firstly let me tell you all about the most beautiful, caring and compassionate women in the world, her name is Alina she always considers others before herself and will do anything to make everyone happy. She carries around huge backpacks like Mary Poppins with everything you could ever need from tissues, water and of course a uni essential lighters. Rossni …. remindes me of the song ‘im trying to find the words to describe this girl without being disrespectful’ if you don’t know were she is look in Ians room or you wont necessarily even have to look because you will hear her. I guess your not best friends with someone until you have heard them getting down, that sound is forever etched into my recurring nightmares so thanks for that Rossni. I chose to tell you a little more about these too because before uni I was never really a girls girl, in fact girls and friendships are just two things that did not go together in my mind, but safe to say these two are my type of girls (cliche I know but I would do anything for them make them coffee at silly a clock in the morning, help them out with essays and boy troubles, hide bodies for them. You know the usual best friend activities).

Semone and Kit are the type to be best big brothers who you can always confide your troubles in, fair to say that both of these have eased the pain of living with Bi-polar considerably by showing relentless and habitual kindness and even just seeing them is enough to place a genuine and sincere smile on my face despite if it has been a porcelain day. Lastly Omar, who somehow always knows what to say and always has an ear with some profound advice, he hosts an open door policy and is the type of guy who has wisdom way beyond his youth – he continues to give me sound subjects and advice to contemplate and for that I thank him more than he will ever know.

I am conveying all this what must seem random spiel to you all, because I finally understand one of the greatest philosophers Friedrich Nieztchures concepts. He once stated ” And those that were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who can not hear the music”. Not all of these people I have mentioned can hear the music or have ever heard the music however continue to show great empathy to others situations, and im sure they have all heard my music, some like Alina, Kit, Rossni and Omar even upon occasion dance with me which is one of the most delightful experinces.

For once the life of a Bi – polar is relatively settled and dare I say it even a little normal. I had the picture of university being sex, drugs and alcohol in reality its more of a did you see with motherfucker stole my milk again. I will always be a little over sensitive and obviously have bipolar melt downs, but now I would rather go for a walk with one of these beauts that take a razor to my wrists. If there are any of you out there who needs a sign that it does get better please let it be this. hospitalized last year after consuming three bottles of pills and washing it down with a bottle of jagger if you told me I would have gotten into university, be preforming academically well and have the friends I have I would have doubted you but I guess these people are proof that miracles really do happen.

F. Scott Fitzgerald once said “I hope you live a life your proud of, if you find that you are not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again”.

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This should be my note:

The prominent point we all have in our lives, that overwhelming feeling that engulfs us when we come to the obvious conclusion that we don’t know who we are anymore? striped of our identity, forced and beaten with social stigmas, relentlessly habitually trying; dragging ourselves out of the bed away to the brutal reality once more.

I was such an ignorant child, I truly believed the concept and notion of everything having a fundemental difference, people we converse with manipulating and changing is as people, re shaping us. When I was abandoned I implemented this, reassuring myself that its okay because daddy diddnt mean to hurt me and mummy, they would come for me soon, they wouldn’t ever leave me they love me right? Excruciating, the only way in which can describe when I became illuminated by knowledge and the outside world, we as humans are programmed to survive, that unfortunately and regrettably means you have t kill the person you once were, that innocent child could never resurface, for the fragmentation of his broken disposition was still jagged within me. The burns and scars a permanent reminder of the me I used to be, because what else is there in life?

The overriding principal that profoundly impacts upon us, that gives us both direction and encouragement were, were is it? I have tried religion, science everything the only thing I find relief in is pain, a somewhat contorted and ironic drug of choice I know. But that sensation I receive when I see the blade glinting with the crimson stain of blood, its an adrenaline fix like no other, better than the weed, the drink, a wave of pressure that has been smothering you like a hazy cloud is suddenly revoked, and satisfaction invades, a guilty pleasure some might say. Vices – they are crucial, some might even categorize as paramount for our survival, if we are turned on we have sex, if we are stressed we smoke so why is cutting when numb not acceptable?

And whilst the rant is on, I might give you advice, dont ever fall in love, for what is supposed to be a beautiful thing I just find it confusing, heart wrenching and difficult. I am one who is not ashamed to admit that I have no problems getting undressed and getting to know you in this sense, its not when his sweet caress made my clothing melt, or when his lips touched mine they burnt like ciggerates, its the lack of protection, the breaking down of the walls and phasade that you have contentiously put up, that’s the hard bit … well in my opinion anyway. This is coming from a self identified freak, but im starting to think that there is no point, no larger picture that we are all individually working to.

This feeling of sadness is devastatingly consuming, smothering me like a pillow to a child s face. People leave a letter normally, I diddnt on my previous two attempts because I have always had nothing to say on the matter, but when im gone I want these series to be my note. What I have always wanted to say but could never find the words for, and dear god I sincerely hope that all of you struggling find your voices, see i used to believe that some were just not meant to be heard, but then I hear his, and yearn for his deep laugh and chuckle; he is so sweet, unassuming and beautiful that he would never understand that my departure is due to him, having something so perfect like that, will only lead to dismay, and sweet bitter resentment.

I don’t know if this is love but its intoxicating, because of you I know why storms are named after people, because of the damage and destruction upon which they inflict. Your words cut deeper than knives, penetrating through all the barriers you broke down, you forced me to trust you, I did, shame you were unable to implement the same curtsy.

I once knew someone who had a similar mind to that of mine, only he had considerable better people reading skills than me. We spoke of topics such as the labyrinth and how straight and fast is okay if you’ve exhausted out all other possibility’s. Because it comes down to basic facts in life, whose there for you? are you happy? if you just subconsciously answered no to both of these questions then im sorry because its inevitable you shall end up with the same somewhat tragic fate as me. I honestly thought that doing a history degree, would help me understand the world that surrounds me, but all I see is injustice, revolution, tyranny and death. Aristotle once wrote what is educating the mind when you dont educate the heart. My heart has safe to say had enough of learning, learning about all of the pain and sadness, it is everywhere and I do not know how to stop noticing it. this is me understanding, death is not cowardly, the thing with depression is your either victorious or its going to kill you. I have spent so long trying to get better now and it is safe to pronounce that im done, I hate unanswered questions, you were always an unanswered question to me. For the answer was love and through meeting you , i realsied that is something I can never reciprocate, for everything is black, and haunting and I am unable to live in a world like this. I want to be free once more, liberated the weight in my chest is so heavy, now it needs to stop beating.

You had me at ‘ciao’

I have such a distinct hatred for being vulnerable, he’s the exception though, I yearn for him- all of you – your sweet scent, your warmth and your closeness. My head is a catastrophic mess currently with so many erratic thoughts ricocheting around the deepest of my insides with such a heated intensity that words escape me.

I find it most ironic I would like to classify it as irony, but the honest truth is this –  it disgusts me with such a raw passion. After you have been that intimate and shared everything, not only refined to the physicality you shared with them but all your thoughts, fears and dreams. When you relinquished and recoiled from me it felt abstract and uncertain – to not be around them.

The most satisfying thing he gave to me was his trust and in an ultimate sense himself, for he did not care about the scars and cuts that littered my arm, it just contributed to what it meant, to what being close and accepted to him meant.

smile because you made it, your still here

Living with Bipolar is excruciatingly painful, but its crucial to remember that you are not your illness. Although at times it can feel utterly consuming, as though you are isolated and imprisoned within your own mind your not what the voices dictate you to be. life is a series of choices we consecutively make that cause a chain of consequential reactions, I am not saying we are our choices because I don’t feel that’s fair. Its human error and inevitable to have moments were reason is abolished by irrationality, but happiness is an abstract noun – a concept and emotion not a state of mind, the more people accept that its okay to not be walking around ecstatic perhaps the more truthful their happiness would be.

“Happiness is the small things” there is defiantly a partial truth within this theory, for me happiness is more subconscious; for example, when your stomach hurts so intensely because you’ve been laughing so much with a close friend or reading a bed time story to your nephew and realizing how lucky you actually are. Yes I have bipolar, yes its shit and I spend a disproportionate time contemplating launching myself in front of a train or walking across A line roofs with my eyes closed but that’s only a part of me and im beginning to accept that, although its going to take a lot more time, I feel im finally getting there, and that’s a start for I may not be there yet, but I am closer than I was yesterday.

lie to me

Tell a lie

fake a smile

“you seem sad?”

push denial

“I’m alright”

choose your weapon

carve a line

tie the knot

pull the string

self destruction

such a beautiful thing

For him

He never wrote me poems. We would fuck in his car, or on his bed where numerous other girls had been or while I was crying (classy I know). We saw each other naked so frequently I have the image engraved on the back of my eye lids and in my retina, present every time I close my eyes. He ripped my underwear off holding me down while I would caress his chest. I was always vulnerable, but there’s something about loving a broken boy, the concept of fixing him, I diddnt get to fix him of course; I just cut myself on the shards of his broken disposition.

I would wake him with kisses, whereas he woke me up with hickies, for a long time, I thought they were the same thing. Then I learnt that kisses aren’t promises, and hand holding is not a contract, we should build our bridges on today because its the only foundation that is certain.

I will always remember him though, how predictable he was within his unpredictability; I asked him one while we both got high, why it was that I could write novels about him until the words got tired of being anagrams of his name – but at the same time he would never reciprocate. He blew a smoke ring and broke it with his finger. “dunno” he said. We would inevitably fuck again later, because I was drawn to his self destruction, like a moth to a flame, I would crave and yearn for his pain.

I found him the other day sitting on my floor, staring at a picture from when I was young. “God” he said, “I really fucked you up”. And thats the moment I released we really do only accept the love we think we deserve.

Broken

Depression is the deadliest of diseases, for there are no blood tests or scans, it  hides and lurks in the corner of your soul spreading its venom and numbness until you can go on no longer. Depression isn’t the pain riddled poems or the blood stained wrists, its the night terrors and waking up in relentless cold sweats.

The book thief, is a book of which is predominantly narrated by death, maybe that is the reason it is my favorite novel to ever be written, my favorite quote simmers down to, “even death has a heart”. I must emphasis and state I am neither naive nor ignorant and I don’t imagine a warm embrace with death, yet surely it has to be better than the sweet entice of a blade, or living an absent life that doesn’t even belong to me.

When most people imagine the future, it is perfect and picturesque filled with joy, career’s, marriage and children. When I envisage my future there is nothing …. literally nothing. I should in all probability find that terrifying yet I don’t most people have a substantial fear of death, yet i participate frequently in activitys which improves my chances, no such luck, it says something about you, when you cant even kill yourself correctly. Carved on my arm is the word “fail” I remember clearly doing it after putting a cigerate out on my forearm, it was the moment I realised I had failed at every aspect of my life. Academically I never achieved what I aspired to, in truth (sorry if your reading this) but I hate the majority of my pathetic friends.

But you know what I hate the most, living with people who are not my mum and dad yet still taking part in this fucking charade, I detest them and that’s the honest truth, only no one really likes the truth,it ironic really, when you think about it, we crave it but we never want to hear it, not really.  And people would call me selfish for saying that, so you don’t.

I miss my mum more than anything in this entire world, and I would easily give up the rest of my days for just one hour with her, I miss my dad, the thing that screws us up most in life is the picture of what things were supposed to be like, A once said that to me. And maybe he was right, I used to think he was right about everything, but some people deserve the pain, they deserve bad things to happen them. I am a big believer in karma, and hey maybe that’s the reason I go to bed every night and think about killing myself whilst cutting up.

I have an extreme internal conflict when it comes to my dad hence why I rarely speak about him; I have said no more than he wasn’t  a very nice man to most, because I don’t think I could say the whole truth out loud. People love the phrase its complicated, but really im starting to think that maybe not so much, I deserved everything I got, it was all my fault. I say I don’t know why I cut, but I think deep down inside I do, I just don’t want to admit it to myself. The situation with my mum and dad really fucked me up and it fucked me over. I finally want the game to be over, but life just wont let me stop playing.

It stained me and it doesn’t mater how hard I scrub it wont go.

what happens when fear paralyzes you

Deep breaths, count from one to ten; panick attacks are becoming ever more consistent within my life causing the same chilled numbness, I write this as sweat is trickling down my forehead, my hands are shaking uncontrollably (typing is a nightmare) and I am entering into the realm of hyperventilation.

Now I can comprehend why people call an ambulance, mistaking them for heart attacks. I can not explain the overwhelming sense of impending doom that correlates to a panic attack, I don’t think there are words in our dictionary which can express the terrorizing fear coursing through my veins. Its like having someones hands tightly gripping your neck and squeezing relentlessly until you pass out. It’s like screaming for help, only no one can here.

Unawnserd Questions

The roses are dying, screaming for light

The violets are crying, done fighting the cold night.

I look at you, and promise im just fine,

when under my shirt im bleeding in straight lines.

The razor blade in my pocket is gleaming with pride,

While im concealing the fact, that I’m dying inside.

Everyday I am consumed, eaten alive

by the securities I suppress, deep inside.

Scars, forever decorating my skin,

on the outside and yet deep within.

Days go past – years go by

My emotions still hidden, help, I want to die.

Maybe the best place for me is locked in chains,

for my mind is far past insane.

Should I follow my brain or my heart?

Should I stay, or should I depart?

it’s so very hard to decide,

should I stop, or continue my suicide.

I tell myself not to be afraid,

after all its only a little, shiny blade

.