No longer as truthful as should be deserved, some names, places and events deliberately vague to protect identities that aren't mine

Saturday, 1 August 2015


I had something much longer.  Much darker.  Much angrier.

Suffice to say, I'm completely bricking it about Monday

Thursday, 30 July 2015

The Martian

A steady, obnoxious beeping that eventually roused me from a deep and profound desire to just Fucking die.
As I groggily came to, I wondered why I wasn't more dead.

Okay, I've had a good night's sleep, and things don't seem as hopeless as they did yesterday.

My asshoke is doing as much to keep me alive as my brain.

As with most of life's problems, this one can be solved by a box of pure radiation.

Ignorance is not bliss

There's a horrible and uncomfortable moment when you realise you can't work out if a friend is lying.

As far as I'm concerned, the following is a basic fact: I lie to my friends; we all do.  I therefore, expect that my friends are and will lie to me.

Most of the time one of two things happens:
  1. You know your friend well enough to know that they're lying, know why they're lying, and accept as part of the tacit agreement of friendship that you do not call them out on it, engage them in their lie, and file away the different meaning in your head for actual later use.
  2. It's one of the millions of trivial little every day lies we all tell constantly that are so inconsequential you can't be bothered to spend your time working out whether they lied or not and don't even bother to file the information in the first place.
Either way life and friendship goes on much the same and everyone hides each others failings and flaws for each other because otherwise we all go insane.

But sometimes, your friend tells you something, and as hard as you try to analyse it, you cannot work out whether that's the truth or not.  Both options are reasonable, both options are valid, both options could be successfully argued both for and against.  Even sitting there and going over it and over it in your head in twenty different ways, you come to the realisation that either you don't know your friend well enough, or it's entirely possible they lied to you.
Worse than the lie itself, worse than the act of lying, is the fact that they might be able to lie to you and you might not know it.

Wednesday, 29 July 2015

Containment Breach

Pressure is building.

Today is another day where dark thoughts cast a long shadow over my mind.  This has been continuing to build for a few weeks now.  I can't entirely say why.  I have some ideas.  But nothing concrete.

I yo-yo a lot at the moment.

When I'm okay, I'm totally fine.  Things may be bad, and things may continue to be bad, but I know that there are new things to come.  I want to see what they are.  It might all go to hell and I might crash and burn even more spectacularly than I have before, but I'm excited for the journey, the discovery, of seeing how it pans out and where I'll end up.  I catch myself laughing at nothing in the shower.  I dance in the street.  I sit awed by the developments of the last few months.  I live.

When I'm down, I'm teetering on the abyss.  I'm one day away from disappearing again.  I'd give up if I could find a way.  It all seems rather pointless, to keep trying, to carry on, it's not going to end anywhere good.  It's stretching out rations pretending it will help you them last longer, when all it does is cause hasten the day problems kick in.  My hood stays up.  My cap is pulled down low.  I'd miss the things to come, truly, but I just don't have the energy to keep going.

There's nothing in-between at the moment.  And there should be.  Because I don't feel that bad somehow.  I don't feel hypomanic, or suicidal, , or rather some days I do, but not everyday, however my emotional state begs otherwise.  I go through both of the above 20 times a day.  It makes it hard to know if it was a good day or a bad day.

Something is going on in my head, or my life, and I don't know what.  I don't know how to fix it, or remove myself from it, or just make it a little more bearable.  I couldn't tell you anything of consequence about it, no specifics.

I'm acutely aware the support network I have that I feel comfortable talking to about these things is a grand total of 2.  That's problematic.  They can't be around all the time.  They have their own lives, their own problems to deal with.  I fundamentally have issued trusting people who used to be this close to me for various reasons.  It sucks but it's the truth.  There are other things I trust them about.  Important things.  Just not this.

I carry on.  Pretending to make it through work.  Trying to get to my weekends.  Convincing myself that various things to look forward to in the next few months aren't impossibly far away.  Tired of feeling stuck in the middle - neither determined to give up, nor resolved to move on.

Pressure continues to build, no longer in the back of my head, but encroaching forward.

Thursday, 23 July 2015

It's Wasn't Tuesday This Time

Today I miss you.

Today I miss our talks, and our fights, our secret unseen messages to each other, the ways we'd show we cared when others couldn't see, how we absolutely hated each other and knew it every moment of every day.

I miss your safety.  The breath I'd release being held in your arms again that first night.  A smile I've yet to get back since.  The knowledge that as long as we lay there it didn't matter how bad it all was, what my head said or yours, we'd lie there, awake, sleeping, crying, breathing.

The second night, pulling you in close to me.  Watching guard over your shoulder that nothing would threaten you.  The purpose and surety that I could.  Whatever it was, I could.  I could summon any strength in those moments, when you had none.

I miss dreading that fight.  Knowing it would happen every single time.  Knowing it was to come.  Knowing it was stupid, and pointless, and that it was everything we both knew was true.

I miss being so scared I could never say goodbye.  Or you couldn't.  One of us was always statuesque.  Rigid, unmoving.  Unable to return that finale embrace.  I miss the hurt, and release of a 12h long journey home spent crying the entire way.  So badly the automated cameras couldn't validate my ID.

Today I miss you.  Tomorrow you'll be the guy I'm moving on from.  But tonight I want you here.


  1. At least once per week, visit a place you keep meaning to get round to visiting.
  2. Find time for a sit down breakfast, even if it's cereal, once per week
  3. New blog, on tube advertising and related items (dedicated to my friend CJ, whom I had many discussions about this phenomenon with, and the particular lack of it in Boston) - this one requires me getting the funds together for a camera, so may not start right now.
  4. I forget what this one was, there definitely was something here, and something worthwhile at that, so for now I'll just keep it as a placeholder.
  5. Chainsword.

Tuesday, 21 July 2015