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.

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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.

lost and alone seeking reassurance

the unknown is categorically terrifying, it evokes my deepest and most sincere fears, you can not plan for it and you defiantly can not escape from it (it turns out no matter with how much persistance you pursue this with). I am currently sat in my new university room, shaking and sweating out paranoia. I’m entirly isolated within the prison of my own mind, consistently and forcefully telling me im going to fail before I have even begun.

For him …

youth and nativity both contributed to allure me to him, he was dark, secretive and older (turn on for any teenage girl). He was a broken and lost man, and there is nothing more intoxicatingly attractive in the world. I yearned to fix him, to complete him; yet the sobering reality is his coldness absorbed me, I became consumed by his damming darkness and acquired an obscene obsession to releasing his pain.

He was never loving or compassionate and the concept of empathy, was one of which completely surpassed him. The mask remained firmly positioned throughout our whole charade of a relationship. Emotions always had to be suppressed, it was always just sex. Although always pleasurable and giving, consistently cold; I would trace the scars that littered his forearm like forbidden secrets, as his kisses burnt my lips like cigarettes, I still embrace and relish these moments with a sickening sense of nostalgia.

As I cut myself on the shards of his broken disposition, the overwhelming desperation to evoke feeling relinquished and all that remained were two numb people, desperately searching and seeking to feel something real. The day he left I fell, yet I didn’t hit the ground for the brutal truth is, I have been falling ever since, to this day I still yearn for his painful embrace, to be reunited with his beautifully damaged soul.