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

Sunday, 29 November 2015


Bears watch over me I'm told.  Bears are on patrol in the South, protecting their charges.  Bears that like the winter.   Greater European Moosebears.

A jackal ranges far and wide for the charges I once gave it. 

But even bears don't watch as closely as we watch each other.  It's intimidating, so I'm told.  A near-palpable force that can be hard for others to break into.  A sixth sense constantly aware of each other, constantly keeping tabs and checking in.  Guarding.  Protecting.  An feat we can't manage for ourselves. 

He makes dinner and puts the rest in the fridge for the week.  He knows I'm not eating.  I put petrol in the car and keep my keys closeby in case.

Bears have been spotted nearby.  Out in the dark.  Marking their patrols.

Wednesday, 25 November 2015


Once upon a time, a boy made me breakfast.   He made bacon.  Real crispy style bacon.   Scrambled eggs that ran and melted as you ate them.  And he made muffins.  English breakfast muffins.  He cooked them in the fat from the bacon till they were crispy.   I fell in love with that boy and he fell in love with me and for years whenever I missed him I would go out and buy eggs, bacon, and muffins and cook them.  The memory of that morning, of falling in love with him, helping to keep me going when he couldn't be there to hold me.

Years later, I met someone, and for breakfast one day he made eggs, bacon, and muffins with no knowledge of its meaning to me.  Placing the muffins on my plate he suddenly whisked them off again crying "no! wait!" and took them to the pan full of bacon grease, dropping them in, coating them on both sides and letting them sizzle, before placing them on my plate once more.  I tried not to cry.  I hid it with a huge grin.  Muffins have become an in joke with him and I still haven't explained to him completely why.

The boy I fell in love with... he's not mine anymore.  But when I'm sad, and alone, and I don't have someone to put their arms around me and hold me, I go to the store and I buy eggs, bacon, and muffins.  And I remind myself of a different morning when a boy cooked me breakfast.  Of becoming a friend instead of falling in love.  I try to remember that someone cares for me, even if it's no longer the boy I love.

Monday, 23 November 2015

That small still voice.

So its gonna be forever
Or its gonna go down in flame
You can tell me when it's over
If the high was worth the pain.

Today I've struggled to remember why I try so hard to be a certain kind of person. I'm trying to remember the small, quiet voice I heard Friday night that almost made my heart break.  But today it all seems a rather pointless gesture.

Friday, 13 November 2015

Why oh why didn't I take the blue pill?

Words from a good friend if mine:

"I know people who's islets of langerhans don't work. They need to take pills and injections every day just to perform as basic and human a task as eating.
I know people who's CD4 cells don't work. They have to take pills every day go perform as basic and human a task as getting over a cold.
I am a person who's brain doesn't work. I have to take pills every day to perform as basic and human a task as feeling love and feeling loved.

Sometimes I hate that I need that pill just to be human, but it's good to keep it in perspective."

Thursday, 12 November 2015


I remember running like that.  Wow.  I miss that.

I'm the one you chose
Out of all the people
You wanted me the most
I'm so sorry that I've fallen
Help me up lets keep on running
Don't let me fall out of love

Saturday, 31 October 2015


It's Halloween.

My favourite day in the entire year.  It almost wasn't.   It's also the day I found out I have HIV a few years ago.  But my love for what the day means to me overcame that.

I didn't have a costume this year.  I wanted to be Astroboy.   But I lost my bank card and my pay came through late this month.  So I didn't have time to find what I needed.  That sucks.  But it didn't mean I didn't celebrate.

I get stupidly excited for Halloween.  I go full in for it given the chance.   People accuse me of being American in my attitude to it - as with so many things - because of how my enthusiasm comes across.  That unfairly misunderstands why exactly I love this day.

The walk down to the tube station this evening proved to me exactly why - it's a night when everyone truly shows themselves.  What they like, what makes them laugh, what they enjoy,  how they see themselves, who what they want to be.  What we find scary.  What we find impressive.  What we consider iconic.   Some are zombies,  some are doctors, some are princes and fairies, clowns and music stars, cartoon characters, comic book villains, it's an excuse to wear something outrageous and obnoxious and people will compliment you on it.

Going down to the tube there was a girl on crutches coming up the stairs.  She was in costume.  The costume kept getting in the way of the her crutches and she was struggling to get up the stairs.  She was laughing about it.  She doesn't care.  She's determined to go out.  To have fun.  And she wants to look like this.   So she does. 

Wow, if only we had the strength to do that in life the other 364 days.  For some reason we only consider it okay on this one night. New Years' enjoys a partial level of this societal acceptance of weirdness, but only partial.

You see the most interesting and unexpected things about people.  Who the geeks and nerds are. Those who choose truly specific characters.  Who takes pride in their outfit.  The ones that wear a hoodie most days but make sure their costume's fastenings are historically accurate.

For the LGBT+ community it can take on a special difference - the chance to reveal a little of a side of you that might not be open to anyone yet.  To be a bit more flamboyant and ostentatious.   To wear the clothing you actually feel comfortable in.  I was told recently that decades agos Halloween was the one night where police in San Francisco wouldn't harrass drag queens - where they were welcome in bars for one night only cause it was fun.

I admit, I see Halloween different to most people.  And I don't think people are analysing their costume choices this closely.  It's just some harmless fun.  A chance to dress up.  An excuse for drinking if you're an adult and indulging candy whatever age you are.  But it reveals all these things if you make a habit of observing people's mannerisms.  It's fantastic.   I love it.   I wish we all did it more.  Embrace our fears and our idols.  What could be wrong with that?

Happy Halloween.

Wednesday, 21 October 2015

Marching Orders

**There are some minor edits and formatting changes still to be done to this post, but I've decided to post it up while it's still fresh in my mind**

I've said it plenty - I don't really consider myself to have 'fantasies' by and large - long term wishlist items to tick off a sexual bucket list.   I try in most things in life to go in with our expectations - you're not disappointed if the format is different from what you played out in your head, and can even be pleasantly surprised.

That said, while I consider what happened recently/is about to happen following that to be a scenario in an ongoing roleplay, I've no doubt a lot of you will most definitely have had a fantasy along these lines.

Well it's happening to me and I get to live it so I'm going to brag and take the opportunity to make you all jealous because WHY THE HELL WOULDN'T YOU?!?! (Obviously that will only be apparent once you've read the full post and learned about what's going on)

#superaggressivefb beats me up fairly regularly.  I love it and enjoy being in pain as part of sex in general.  This is all well documented by now.  I'm single and not exactly an obedient sub and believe the bottom is always in charge anyway,  so I'm ultimately free to do whatever the hell I like, and whilst I certainly wouldn't say #superaggressivefb owns me, he does dominate and control me a hell of a lot of the time
#superaggressivefb has someone who beats him up, who as before, we shall name #Boss to indicate the hierarchy.

I've met #Boss with #superaggressivefb a few times and we've all played together - by which I mean they let me get a few pretend hits in and then I usually end up on the receiving end of both of them.  #Boss and #superaggressivefb have a dynamic.  #superaggressivefb and I have one.  #Boss and I haven't had enough time together to find ours yet but we learn more each time.

We all met up.  With the intention of fighting (and fucking) all day.  

#superaggressivefb and #Boss were planning a big fight towards the end of the day - 6 rounds of pretty damn hard going.  These boys do not play lightly.
They put a wager on the fight - Me.
If #Boss won, I'd be his until Christmas.  
We'd also get to beat up #superaggressivefb together - meaning I'd get to lay into him as hard as I liked to.  I have 3 speeds with almost everything in life - 0/not bothered enough to notice, comfortably coasting and hyperactive.  In physical aggression this translates to unable to (e.g. too deep in subspace), good effort but not gonna make the cut I'm afraid,  and the point at which adrenaline kicks in and everything goes off the charts. 
We've never properly let me let down my control enough to reach that third point yet - we want to - but it's unpredictable to both of us and we have no idea where it will go or end up.  But we want to.  And here would be the chance to do so.

There were other bits of fights and play during the day, but eventually we were all in the right mood.  I kitted them both up.  They squared off against each other.  I was paraded up between the both of them as the prize at stake.  And then began round one.

It was hard.  #Boss always goes pretty hard when I see him.  He loves it and gets into it but means he sometimes ramps up way beyond where other people can meet him on a similar level.  #superaggressivefb was going for it though. He wasn't trying not to lose, or avoid getting hurt too badly, he was determined to win this time.   These were not light blows and it was not for show.
It was in a living room so limited space sure,  but enough to dance around each other and swing a full punch.  It was intense.  And incredibly fucking horny.

6 rounds, 2 minutes each.  That's a lot of time to repeatedly punch and defend if you've never tried it.  A lot of hits to take either way.  #superaggressivefb caught a vicious blow in the third and struggled to recover.  Repeated hits brought him down in the fourth and fifth rounds and he didn't manage to get up again in the fifth.  He was trying.  He really wanted to win this one.  Seeing that was a huge turn on in itself - what it said about the dynamic between us even beyond this roleplay.

But he lost.  So now he has to ask #Boss for permission to use me.

We ran out of time and I wasn't in the proper headspace to let myself go on #superaggressivefb.   But the prize handover so to speak has been arranged.  There's two nights coming up when #Boss has the place to himself.  The original plan (and my cock can't help but be disappointed a little this isn't happening cause it's so obviously hot) would be that #superaggressivefb would bring me to the flat (he has keys) the first evening before #Boss gets home.  Strip me, tie me down to the bed, make sure I was lubed up and then leave me there exposed until #Boss came home.  Then it's up to #Boss how he uses me over the following few nights.  
Unfortunately #superaggressivefb is now away with work those dates, so I'll be given keys to let myself in.  I can't tie myself up.  But I'm still expected to be face down on the bed, naked, and lubed ready.

It's horny as fuck.   I'm so excited and can't wait but I'm also admittedly, and probably sensibly, a little bit scared - #Boss goes HARD.  Harder than #superaggressivefb does.  And I don't go down without fighting.  I react.  I lash out.  Very few people would do that to #Boss.  And none of the three of us have worked out if I will yet.  That could be very dangerous - #Boss naturally loves those who fight back, but then he comes back even harder than before.  I've in fact been ordered by #superaggressivefb not to react.  I can surpress it if I have to.  It's a visible concerted effort, but I can use the anger to hold my fists firm in place rather than move them if have to.  It's also going to be the first time #Boss and I will be playing by ourselves - we'll be working out the dynamic and boundaries as we go.  It's going to be intense and definitely painful.   But oh god is it going to be fun.

So, to sum up.
My dom took me to get abused by one of his friends
He then traded me to his friend to see fit as he used for a period of time.  I was ordered to do anything I was told, and importantly, to not fight back.
I'm going to stay at the friends for a few nights soon.  I've been given keys and he's expecting to find me face down, ass up and lubed upon his return home.
He may or may not bring others home with him.
I'll probably get woken up at 4am or whatever time the mood takes him just like when I stay at #superaggressivefb's
I'm allowed to get my revenge on my dom for all of this.
I'm almost certain several of you have had this fantasy.  Maybe with less punching.  Maybe not - maybe your version involves you being forcibly kidnapped first.

There is a lot more to this story.  And there are other scenarios to follow from it yet planned.  But those details remain my secret horny knowledge until I choose otherwise.

Monday, 19 October 2015

Colliding worlds

Hooray it finally happened

At the weekend differing parts of my life finally came together as #superaggressivefb and husband finally met my other friends.

I'd been trying to get this to happen on various levels for a while now - #superaggressivefb and husband obviously a big aspect of my life these days and will continue to be for a good while with any luck.  Schedules clash and plans change and life is hard so my attempts had fallen through.  #superaggressivefb and husband agreed to come along to one of the kink shopping things me and my friends do every so often to say hi.  #superaggressivefb had been away for 2 weeks with work too and I think was missing hanging out.  They seemed to get it meant a lot to me they met the rest of my friends (or at least the ones I'm with 90% of the time I'm not with them).  Equally my friends Chris and Paul, who provide most of the emotional support not otherwise covered by #superaggressivefb and #blondie made a particular effort  - Paul came during the day, specifically asking to be introduced to #superaggressivefb and although Chris was busy during the day he joined me and #superaggressivefb at ice hockey later that evening.  Moments like that get noticed.

#superaggressivefb noticed plenty too.  Him and the husband joined us in the middle of lunch and perched at the end of the table - comments from #superaggressivefb within minutes accurately dissected the dynamics down the table of people he hadn't yet even been told the name of.  He saw how my friends so often look to me to shepherd them.  How my impatience and frustration at a lack of progress overtakes my reluctance to take the lead before anyone else and therefore leaves it to me to take the initiative and guide the group.  He played on the collective reaction of them all to his (admittedly drool inducing) muscled husband trying on leathers in the shop.

It made me laugh.  Not because he picked up on all these things so quickly and silently.  Because it's such a clear illustration that #superaggressivefb and I so often see the world in the same way.  We analyse it and process it with the same piercing gazes that take in so much that seems to go unnoticed by others.

Together we're almost lethal.  He offers to help one of my friends.  Serious, significant help.  Help he easily provide. The friend is taken aback by the sincerity.  And is so British he can only politely refuse.  I bare my teeth.   The short cutting comment calling out my friend and telling him to take it.  Other friends chirp in quickly to support me, clearly having had the same thought in their heads but not prepared to embarrass their friend.  Willing to let the moment pass by.  The friend accepts help.  Quite a difficult thing for him to do actually.  I'm proud of him.

#superaggressivefb congratulates me on saying the right thing at the right time and helping my friend.
"None of them realise you were just being crafty" I whisper to him.
We smile to each other and move on.

Post Script
Chris joins #superaggressivefb and I for ice hockey.  It's fun and fast and #superaggressivefb has missed it.  We win 10-4.  As we leave Chris says "So next Saturday?"
Moments that get noticed.

Sunday, 18 October 2015


A friend's comment on the British version of the Horse Fuck Fair, which is run by a safe sex promoter, but by all accounts (admittedly not my own first hand experience,  so I can't confirm) has vast amounts of barebacking happening at it:

"like, if you're the kind of person who wants to go to a horse-themed sex party, chances are you're more interested in bb than not-bb

or am I wrong?"

I don't think it could be summed up better really.

Tuesday, 13 October 2015

Old Habits

Breaking up with the guy I'm not dating, who isn't the guy that's not my boyfriend, and not the guy I'm sleeping with.


Monday, 12 October 2015

Noted Absences.

"...well you two clearly have things you want to say to each other."

Stop being so accurate.

Thursday, 8 October 2015

I Bleed Blue

Tonight it all begins again.
Tonight we start to dream again, to hope, to cry, to hold our breaths as every second counts down.
Every whistle, every face off, every horn.  Every broken stick and check against the boards.
It starts all over again.

The team is ready.  They want it.  Every player has spent the entire week posting how ready to fight they are.  The fans believe again.  We've all mended our broken hearts over the summer and are ready to bleed once more. 

It's games till 6am.  It's heart stopping overtime.  Those can't-look shootouts.  It's the tag on my keys.  It's getting my jersey out once more.  It's the cap I wear and never give up.  Stats and write-ups and scouting reports.  Call-ups and injuries and trade deadlines.

It's all back.  And we're ready.

This is NEW YORK RANGERS hockey.
#superaggressivefb doesn't realise what he could be in for...


Memory Lane

Remember that time pretty much every aspect of my life fell apart at once?

Yeah... not fun.

Saturday, 3 October 2015


"May we recognise with shame the latent cruelty that lurks beneath our human skin and the ease with which we mark as alien other groups and ethnicities of humanity.  May we repent of treating as less than human people we should see as brothers and sisters under God."

I rediscovered these words the other day, given by The Very Reverend Dr John Hall, Dean of Westminster, which were addressed to the congregation at the service commemorating the 70th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz, which I was lucky enough to attend.

Couldn't help but think of the ongoing Syrian refugee crisis, not to say any less of the many other problems currently in the world...

All in all it's just another day now...

Today's Anthem

Friday, 2 October 2015

A small form of courage

I always find one of the hardest, bravest, and most freeing things to do is kiss another guy on the street.

I'm old enough to have grown up thinking being attracted to guys meant a life very unlike what you expected - no marriage, no kids, hiding to a certain degree.  So much of that has changed for the better these days.

Standing on a street corner, kissing my date goodnight.   It shouldn't be anything.  But it is.  It still is.  There are jeers from passersby.  People gawp and tut as they walk past us. 

It's a terrifying thing.  Still.  This isn't even my boyfriend, just a guy I had a nice evening with.  Even with my eyes closed a part of me is constantly alert for the potential aggression.  The tone in the jeer that means we should pull apart for a moment.  The sound of footsteps suddenly running towards us.  Maybe a real threat, maybe just to scare us.  Either way it's there.

I've always been confident on this front.  Defiant.  I'm scared.  Every single time.  Straight people never have to think of this.   I do.  Every time.  But I refuse to be beaten.  I will stand on that corner.   I will kiss him.  Even amongst the cries and unhidden comments.  Meeting the eyes of those who stare.  I am entitled to kiss the person I like.  I have earned the right to be open to love.  Generations stand with me on that street corner.  Scared too.  Defiant too.

It's a simple but powerful thing.  To kiss someone.  The person you like.  We take it for granted.  It's still a rare opportunity in too much of the world.  Gay or straight or anything. 

To kiss someone shouldn't be a protest.  But if it is, I'm all the more determined.

Monday, 28 September 2015

I did it again.

"You have to take him with you."
"I can't."
"I know."

He's right though.

Sunday, 20 September 2015


I'm only one call away
I'll be there to save the day
Superman got nothing on me
I'm only one call away

My sense of self-worth took a lot of hits this week.
I don't feel I'm doing very well at work.
I don't feel I'm doing very well as a friend (am forcibly reminding myself constantly that things I consider trivial and insignificant have been called wow aspects of my friendship by 2 people in the last week)
I'm worrying a lot about the future, which is very unlike me.  Short, mid and long term futures; all of them.
I am understandably preoccupied with thoughts of this time last year, which was a pretty damned big blow to how I valued myself.

One of the things I try to do as a friend is be the emergency option at the end of the phone.  For the person who locked themselves out, for the person who broke up with their boyfriend, for the person whose world is falling apart and they can't work out why.  I have a car.  I'm up late.  You can call me and I will respond.  Living in a place with no phone signal for the last 11 months has been a big struggle with this - I've missed a lot of important calls from people and not been able to be there for them.

I'm trying hard to remember, that whatever low self-worth I currently feel, for a lot of people, I am only one call away.

Monday, 14 September 2015


I remember the day you told me you were leaving
I remember the make-up running down your face
And the dreams you left behind you didn't need them
Like every single wish we ever made

I wish that I could wake up with amnesia
And forget about the stupid little things
Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you
And the memories I never can escape
'Cause I'm not fine at all

It's going to be a tough week...

Sunday, 13 September 2015

Stamps and Cheese

#Superaggressivefb is rather obviously one of the best things to happen in my life in the last year, and one of the best people I ever could have come across.  He takes a lot of interest in me, the things that matter to me, the things that drive and motivate me, and the things that bring me down.

Months ago, he asked me about hockey.  In that way that everyone inevitably does when they first start wondering why the hell all this stuff about ice hockey is constantly in my twitter and Facebook feeds.  And then he did something unexpected.  He said he'd like to go to a game with me.  He said it very earnestly, it wasn't just a throwaway "if it makes you happy i'll join in" comment, he'd realised, very quickly, that hockey is supremely important to me and he wanted to find out why, to get involved and see what this thing was that I get so passionate about.

For the last year, hockey was pretty much my anchor, it was the thing that gave me a sense of self when I was certain of little else about the world.  I stayed up late watching hockey several nights a week and sometimes it was the sound of hockey on the radio that got me to sleep without terrifying dreams.  Hockey season ending shortly after I ended up in hospital feeling suicidal for the 3rd time in 7 months filled me with dread.  And it's probably not an accident my friendship with #superaggressivefb picked up around that time and filled in the gaps.

Hockey is something I'm proud of, that I obsess over, that I'm passionate about and that drives me

Today, #superaggressivefb is taking me to a hockey game.  It's the first time a boy has ever taken me to a hockey game.  It's only the 4th game I'll have seen live.  It's my first ever non-NHL game.  He bought the tickets.  He's determined to take me, not just go with me.  My friends are pretty good, and indulge me plenty on my hockey fandom.  But it's something that confuses them and means nothing to them in the long run, I accept that.  Chris got dragged to an NHL premier game years ago by me.  And he used to sit and watch the more exciting games with me online when we lived together.  I love him for doing that.  I was supposed to go see a game back in March with Terence for my birthday (tickets for Rangers games have to be booked a year in advance).  I went with my friend Patrick instead for obvious reasons.  No-one's ever turned around to me before and said "can I go to a game with you?"  With the exception of twitter, I've never really had someone I can sit there and talk to about hockey.  It's an accepted price I pay for loving a sport that just isn't popular and covered in this country.

I don't know much about British hockey - it's a pretty minor sport in the UK and unless you live next to a rink or are somehow involved in the sport yourself, you probably wouldn't follow it.  The premier Ice Hockey league in the UK pretty much doesn't exist south of Coventry.  But I'm excited.  Really really excited.  I'm doing a pretty good job of looking calm, but on the inside I can barely focus.  You're probably all going to hate me when my incessant hockey tweeting switches from at nice ignorable late night times to UK evening times.

Hockey is happening.  Hockey is life.  Someone else noticed what it means to me, and is taking me to a game.  He's excited too.  Not just for me, it's new to him and he's genuinely open to it.

I get to go to a hockey game.

Wednesday, 9 September 2015

I am ready I am ready for the floor

I've been left absolutely floored and stunned by something someone said to me earlier this evening.

It's 3 hours later and I'm still trying to process the concept of it.

My absolute dreamfantasy, Kaleb Scott tweeted me saying "You're so fucking hot."

I should probably explain who Kaleb Scott is for those who don't know.

I've been wanking about Kaleb Scott for as long as I can remember, I don't know when I stumbled across him, but I was definitely still a teenager.  He was this gorgeous, stunning, horny porn star in a bunch of piss videos.  He was the first young guy I'd come across in porn that was properly kinky and sleazy.  Not just twink-in-a-leather-harness 'sleaze'.  I've never considered age a factor.  I'm happy playing with older guys.  Age isn't even a thought process I have when it comes to whether I'm attracted to a guy or not.  But here was this young guy.  He was filthy.  He was experienced.  He loved it.  He was proud of it.  He felt normal.

I couldn't tell if I wanted to be him, to play with him, to date him, to thank him.  I still can't.

I remember having printed out pictures of him I would jack off to when I was still confused and working out my sexuality.  I remember scouring the internet for every single bit of porn he ever did.  He's still absolutely drop dead gorgeously stunning.  We got talking on twitter a while ago and I tried to meet up with him last time I was in San Francisco and he was quite up for it but in that way that life happens, things got in the way and it never came to pass

That is the guy that told me he thinks I'm hot today.

I still don't think I've managed to quite pick my jaw up.  He later reiterated his statement to #superaggressivefb in a conversation they've been having  Wow moment doesn't begin to express it.  This post doesn't.  It's not just a case of being starstruck.  It's the fact he was so formative for me.  Such a moulding factor on my idea of kink and that it was okay and that I could want to be a slutty boy and have fun and it would all still be okay and others would find that hot too.  It's not every day your teenage idol turns around and calls you fucking hot.

Completely floored.

Monday, 7 September 2015

Turn it off

I have a growing problem.

I'm unable to voice my frustrations at #superaggressivefb.

We spend an increasing amount of time together, which is good and nice.  But this means all the minor things grate more and there's less time for the irritation to fade in-between.  Sometimes its silly actions he takes.  Sometimes it's aspects of his personality that I find difficult.

Early on when we started seeing how far we could push each other, I started putting my irritations at him in a box in my mind, to be used at a later date when I was beating on him and could channel my rage into the desire to hurt him.  That worked great.  But the outlet for my rage is much less than the inflow.  The box has got increasingly bigger.  I haven't let loose at #superaggressivefb in a good while, we're both a little scared of the look in my face when we test that line and this is probably the underlying reason why.  The unresolved frustration is evident - I'm inpatient with him in the morning, I become irritable easily, my anger ramps from zero to full even quicker than previously.  It's not what I want to be like around him.  It makes too much of the time I spend with him unpleasant, and he's one of the best things to happen in my life, and certainly the life-saving grace of the last 12 months.  Of course there will be bad moments, but in my current state they happen too often for too little reason.

The problem is, most of the time when I'm angry at him, we're around groups of friends, or at the very least his husband and one of my best friends.  So you can't really yell at someone and be angry at them and vent in that situation.  So it goes into the box for dealing with later.  We actually used to spend more time alone when we were first getting to know each other.  Now its very rare for us not to be around his husband and my friend.  Which is a good thing because we've all become a group of friends with each other.  But again, less opportunity to vent, less opportunity to let my rage go.

#superaggressivefb has had a tough week.  He asked for a nice weekend.  He asked me to smile.  I tried to.  But I hit issues.

When I get mad or upset, I don't react well to things.  I know this.  I know I'm very likely to respond in the worst way possible to someone who doesn't deserve it about something that isn't connected.  So I remove myself from the situation.  I go away and calm down and when I can think about it properly I work out what actually bothered me and then go back to them and duke it out.  I still yell, I still sound pissed off, but the red haze doesn't cloud my vision, I'm not lashing out physically or emotionally, and I'm not just reacting defensively.

A few weeks ago this caused a big problem.  Walking away and shutting someone out is the worst reaction to have to #superaggressivefb.  So after the dust settled from 2 bad reactions, he asked me not to do it in future.  I'm trying, but I'm failing.  On Saturday I got angry and I left.  That's not to say I'm not making progress.  I came back.  I came back quicker than I otherwise would have.  I come back when the red haze is gone, but I haven't done my thinking, when some of the rage is still there, I can just stop it from lashing out inappropriately.  Its progress, but its not what was asked of me or what he needs.  I told him this weekend (making the realization myself as I said it), that I hold myself to MY standards around him, not his.  That's actually very rare for me.  My standards are unfairly high on me, and currently only one other person gets that privilege.  So to my mind, I failed in my reaction.

Failing once, I then did try to talk to him.  And came very close to shutting him down again.  The anger and hurt in his face, and the fear and regret it instilled in me would stop me from doing it a third time you'd think....

Sunday my head did something stupid.  It decided it wanted something.  It demanded and expected it.  And when it didn't get it, it ignored and forgot about all the good things that had happened this weekend, and sulked.  And because others were around, I couldn't tell #superaggressivefb what was going on.  I got stuck with endless thoughts in my head.  Thoughts that kept me up even when he had me pinned within his arms in bed to stop the rage from spilling out and assure me I was safe and he cares for me.  So I got up out of bed and walked away.  I didn't run like I wanted to.  I went to the other room and started blogging.  He eventually came and found me.  I sheepishly asked if I could come back to bed, ashamed at failing him for a third time.  Frustrated at him, myself, the situation, but especially that I couldn't just lie there in bed with him even if it meant I was angry.  My way of not running.

I'm struggling to find a way to deal with the bad parts of my rage that doesn't involve walking away, to tell #superaggressivefb when I'm upset and why, .  They're my problems to sort out, they're big ones, ones I'm failing at repeatedly.  Ones that are are causing big problems, as they end in resentment and bitterness.  If I don't learn how to do these things I'll fuck up a really good friendship,

He needed a nice weekend from me, he specifically asked for it, he asked me to smile.  I think he got that.  I struggled to give it to him, and at points I certainly failed, probably because I wanted to try so much.  But he fell asleep happy Sunday night, his husband on one side and me on the other.  He struggled when I tried to tell him things on Saturday night, because his week had been tough enough.  I didn't tell him any of the stuff above because that definitely would have been too heavy.  He stopped me from telling him something big, that I rarely admit, that I can't even remember now I suppress it so much.  I wanted to tell him at one point, but he (fairly) wasn't able to deal with that at the time.  I'm trying to make the change from the boy who desperately needed support from him for months, to one who can support him back.  He reads my blog.  He'll read this.  I hope he reads it when he has memories of a nice weekend in his head.

Post script:

Some of the good things this weekend:
- The understanding and forgiving smile on his face when he came in the bedroom Sunday night.  It's exactly why I want to find a way I can fix my problems and not fuck up a good friendship.  Even confused and angry, I appreciated his action so much.  Apparently this equally showed in the smile on my face when he walked in.  He pisses me off, he's a best friend of course he does.  But even with one or both of us reacting badly, there's a connection that works.
- The three way sleepy hug with me, #superaggressivefb and his husband in bed on Sunday afternoon.  It a wonderful demonstration of trust, acceptance, and privilege to be invited to join a couple like that.
- Faith.  Inviting someone to see such a personal aspect of you is something that again, offers great privilege.  I count it as a significant moment in the development of our friendship.
- When I couldn't sleep, or get comfy, and was fidgeting non stop at 5am disturbing everyone, #superaggressivefb rolling over, ordering me to cuddle up and letting me be the big spoon (I'd mentioned how much I like this to him earlier that day).  Asleep 20 minutes later.

I have concerns.  Increasing concerns about many things.  Ones that #blondie probably thought of months ago in his perceptiveness.  But there are continued good things.  Things worth fighting for.  Things worth hurting for and writing blog posts about.  We're both still learning.  Blogging helps.

Saturday, 5 September 2015


I find myself in a situation needing to choose one of 2 options - my instincts or my head.

Every time I've chosen my head over my instincts it's gone catastrophically wrong. My instincts are always right.

But my instincts, whilst suitable for me, will produce the worst possible consequences.  Ones I've expressly been asked to avoid.

I'll follow my head, I'll try to give it a chance.  And I know with certainty I will regret it come tomorrow.

Thursday, 27 August 2015


That just says it all really.  Laughter, frustration, wowness.  Everything.

True though, I fucked up majorly there.

Wednesday, 26 August 2015

A real gets-inside-and-rips-you-apart pain

All the love's still there, I just don't know what to do with it now.

You know I still can't believe we both did some things I don't even wanna think about.
Just say you love me, and I'll say I'm sorry.

Oh can you tell, I haven't slept very well since the last time that we spoke.  Please understand I've been drinking again and all I do is hope...

Thursday, 20 August 2015


I am unable to write the post I should be because of my current mood.

The post I should be writing, is about something very positive.  The post need not be overwhelmingly positive, but as I started to try to write it, my bad mood focused on all the negative aspects, and 3 lines in I abandoned writing because it was so obviously going to be a negative post.

But it does make me wonder.  In an ideal world where I could write both in the same moment, how would they compare, what different impressions of the situation would they give.

Something big is worrying me

Something big is worrying me.
Something that is not mine to worry about.
Something that has now been more or less fixed.
But I'm still part of the cause.

And that concerns me.  Both because I dont want to be that person, and because I was right.  I've learnt the hard way instincts are always right and I still don't hate it any less each time.

I'm completely overanalyzing, but it's what I do.

Tuesday, 11 August 2015

I am seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourself

I was asked to write something specific.

I agreed to.  I shouldn't have.  I am far more uncomfortable with the idea than you'd think.  I'm not going to write that post.  My blog does many things, but mostly it functions as a form of therapy for me.  A way to say things I wouldn't otherwise admit, an outlet when its dark and late and all I can do is talk into the void, something that forces me to find words when I don't know how to explain what I'm feeling.  My topics are chosen by whatever most needs to come out that day, somewhat on whim, somewhat by internal struggle.  There are always countless blog posts in draft form and queued in my head that I've never managed to find the right words for, the right time to commit to type, that I'm not happy with when I read it back to myself, and so never go out to whatever audience reads them. 

I've been told several times by people that my blog reads very distinctly in my voice - more than just stream of consciousness, it reads how I speak, my voice is clear in it, and I've also been told that I shouldn't lose that.  Writing something specific, given to me by someone else, would lose that somehow.  It would feel very forced.  To me and to you.  I guess that's why I've never got around to writing that 'topping from the perspective of a bottom' post I was asked to write years ago now.

At any rate the topic was supposed to be on the lines between fantasy and reality, and that's not really a concept I have.  I don't have many fantasies.  I don't consider myself to have a particularly visual imagination.  I think it's better to go in with no expectations, to see where things go, and to fly with it.  It's led me to some amazing situations - travel and boyfriends and new homes and jobs and everything.  So experience further hardens my belief in this approach.  Sexually of course I have things that turn me on specifically, but I couldn't articulate why.  Any kink, or any part of sex in general eventually boils down to "I just like it"/"It gets me hard"/"It makes me horny", simple as that.  Anything more is just fluff and filler really, that doesn't really explain it to someone who doesn't already feel the same.  So no I don't have fantasies.  Not in any way that I understand them as such.

I pretty much always approach things head on.  It's always reality, nothing less.  It makes verbal/aggro etc even harder for me - those are pretty hard kinks to not feel stupid doing at the best of times and it HAS to feel real or nothing at all for me.  Probably why the trust/fear dichotomy thing is such a big turn on for me - it's the epitome of that realness.

But anyway, to keep me occupied for now I have a mission.  It's wildly outside my comfort zone.  It requires me to do things I'm not only not good at, I'm in fact crippling bad at.  Things I find hard, and uncomfortable and scary and sometimes can't bear the idea of.  But a part of me is willing to at least give it a try.  Because the person who set this task is trying to help me, they're making me become a better person and get past my limitations.  In a very roundabout, cleverly disguised way.  I'm currently 50-50 as to if they even realised they were doing that and intended it.  But it might just be clever enough to fool my brain. 

So I'll try.  And I'll fail.  And then I'll try even harder not to beat myself up about that fact.  If I can do that last bit, that's success for me.

Monday, 10 August 2015


It's going to hurt.  Really really hurt.
I'm going to regret it.  Genuinely in-the-moment-wish-I-hadn't regret it.
I'm going to love every single second of it.  My imagination won't even do it justice.
I can't fucking wait.


There are few things more simultaneously comforting, and worrying, than a boy reaching out to hold my hand.

I will find a way to save you.

Friday, 7 August 2015

The Eighteenth Charm

One of the most terrible secrets we can keep from those close to us, are the ones that they should know, that we need them to know, but we keep to ourselves through all the pain, because it would break their hearts to tell them.

Thursday, 6 August 2015

One level higher than you

Harry, smiling, had asked Professor Quirrell what level he played at, and Professor Quirrell, also smiling, had responded, "One level higher than you."

An invitation to dinner.

A simple card.

Tie game.

Monday, 3 August 2015

Weekend Summary

1) That I will actually obey the orders of ANYONE who isn't there to actively enforce them at the time speaks VOLUMES.
2) The repeated uncontrollable, uncontained grin on my face as I remember the moment we both almost let go.  I know I've said this before about our friendship, but seriously: Dangerous.  I can't wait.
3) Stamps.  This won't make sense to you.  But stamps were the inexplicable source of great, unexpected and deep joy this weekend for the silliest of reasons. 

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 asshole 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

Monday, 20 July 2015

Shut the fuck up you're amazing

So this was obviously a private conversation, but I've decided to share some parts of it, because it's the first time I think I've ever managed to properly put into words that do due justice to the truly platonic love I have for #Blondie

In worrying about him, and giving him more that he was giving me (cause he's hiding from his own demons in fairness) I failed you: by being too angry to wait for you; by being so angry it overrode my near constant impulse to look out for you in whatever way I can.  You are one of the few people I can save, and sometimes I need to for my own sanity, and I failed you on that this weekend.

Sometimes I hold myself to an unnecessarily and unfairly high standard, it's silly I know.  But you are one of the people I can consistently meet it for ... I know your safety isn't my responsibility, and it's not something I can ever guarantee, but it is something I can do, that I can't do for a lot of people, for a lot of people I wish I could ... never doubt that I will strive to do better by both of us next time.

In some very rare moments, I manage to articulate exactly what my feelings are, without losing anything along the way.  This was one of them.


I have learnt from repeated, harsh, crushing, bruising experience, to trust my instincts.  Even when they seem counter-intuitive.  I will regret it otherwise.

The analogous lesson has so far not been applied to how I assess the needs of friends.

For all of the praises my friends have about my character, I have an above average habit for letting them down.

But more to the point, I have the habit of letting down ones I didn't expect to, which are always the worst possible ones to have let down in any situation. 

I'm trying; the first step is admitting there's a problem, but it's still something I seem to get very wrong a lot of the time.

Dicks fuck assholes too

Today I watched one of my best friends be an asshole.

That shouldn't have been a surprise; it's certainly nothing new in terms of how we interact with each other.  He was an asshole to people he cares about.

Even that's not the problem.  The problem is his choice of actions (due disclaimer: I should note my actions have not been admirable at various points this weekend) is one that reveals that he was calculated, to a mercenary extent.  He knew what he was doing, he knew how it would come across to others, he knew what the consequences of it would be.  And he still chose to do it.

It's not a drunken mistake or heat of the moment idiocy, it's calculated, to inflict exactly the damage that it does, knowing full well every step needed to achieve that.

The biggest problem was that I then realised I like my friend because he's an asshole.  Which is exactly why I like(d) my ex.  Which is exactly why me and another best friend of mine get on.

As another friend commented: like attracts like.

I knew from the moment my friend made step 1 of his choices exactly what it would lead to, and the repercussions, because it's the same reaction I would have to that situation and so I instantly knew every reason why it was made.

No surprises, but me and the people I hold as role models aren't exactly shining paragons of... well... anything.

Tuesday, 14 July 2015


In the 9 or so months we've been playing, I think I've cum with #superaggressivefb maybe 5 times.  He does better, but it's maybe 15?

We've played a whole lot more than that.

Good sex doesn't have to mean orgasm.  Or anything even attempting to get there.  Good sex is silly and fun and you get lost in the moment and its just about the fact you both enjoy whatever's going on and get turned on by it.
Orgasms are great.  But not seeing them as the end goal is important I think.  Kinksters are often better at this I think because so much of what they/we do is 'foreplay'

Good sex people, go get some.

Thursday, 9 July 2015

I know you I walked with you once upon a dream

Sitting in the nice lounge waiting for my flight at Terminal 2.

Airports are no longer bittersweet places for me.  Or rather, they are, but with less of the melancholy aftertaste.  Airports, the imminence of travel, getting away, has managed to maintain its sense of lightness it brings to me.  The freedom of self and nerdy love of watching the constant ballet of movement even at 3am.

I'm here at that most previous of times, dusk, when the lights of the airport start to glimmer identifying myriads of different points along the field.

I know what each of those lights means. I understand the entire layout, the significance, the warnings and clearances.  And I am so glad I do.

I miss flying.  Somewhere in the multitude of imaginary universes (i use imaginary in the H6D sense) I am doing so.  I didn't fail my medical, I didn't have dreams I poured years of my heart and head and self into crushed, I didn't have to find a new dream - something I'm still working on daily.

But it no longer hurts.  10 years later, I love flying again.  I just wish I could afford to once more.

Tuesday, 7 July 2015

Up Up Down Down Left Right Left Right B A Start

I have no idea why I never posted this, it was written five years ago now when I was still with Chris.  But everything contained within is still perfectly valid.

Chris is not a console gamer. he never had one himself, and unlike the rest of our generation, seemingly neither did anyone he was friends with as a child.  In fact it's kind of pityingly funny to put a console controller in his hand, be it PS3, Xbox, N64 whatever.  "What's fire?!  Wait, Left 1 AND Right 2 AT THE SAME TIME?!?!  Z BUTTON?!?!  Where the hell is the z button?!  UNDERNEATH?!?!"  I blame his lack of console gaming as a child for Chris generally having issues playing any kind of FPS genre game.  Anyone who played goldeneye as a kid (or indeed still does, for let's face it, that game is a genuine classic), learnt how to aim, shoot, jump, and maintain camera angle all at the same time by necessity.  And equally, I find that regardless of what console you play/ed above others, you can generally adjust to a different console with relatively little difficulties; there is always at least one L and R button, the z button, if it exists, is always underneath.  The trackpad is usually movement, if there's 2 of them, the other is camera angle, and the fire button is almost always the button nearest your right thumb.  Simple.
Chris criticizes the need to memorize strings of button presses to execute special moves, as this doesn't happen at all on computers really.  Fair point, though I reckon that's a skill you learn through playing consoles naturally.  And I think it allows for more flexibility than a PC game, you don't need to have certain spells or moves readied all the time, you can cast a heal simply by remembering what button sequence you need, and the most commonly used actions often have rather memorable sequences anyway.
Despite only owning a wii (and also technically a PS2), I love console games.  For one thing they're social, sure, you can play Starcraft 2 on battlenet with someone, or even have an Unreal Tournament LAN party, but a few hours spent playing Halo, or Goldeneye, or Mariokart, encourages so much more social activity, is so much more active, something to do with actually sitting next to each other and sharing the same screen.  Especially when there's 4 of you and you have to squint to find your own quadrant and what's happening in it.  I could quite happily spend a Sunday afternoon only half getting dressed in the most comfortable, loose fitting clothes I own, ordering pizza 'cause nobody can be arsed to cook, and blowing the hell out of each other with rocket launchers or dune buggies. 
So if anyone wants  to be my dossing-around-the-house-buddy, let me know.  Though for the next few months, 'Sunday' might have to seem suspiciously like 'Tuesday'.

Monday, 6 July 2015

Six feet happily underground

A friend told me they're still trying to work out what to say for my eulogy.

I didn't tell them I currently have every desire to be at theirs.

Truth is Singular

...sort of.
How so?
*after a long pause* in many and varied ways, yes and no.

...stop being so accurate.

Friday, 3 July 2015


I can't talk to you about the dark things.

But you're the first person I run to whenever this happens.

Thursday, 2 July 2015

Looking For Love In All The Wrong Places

People have been rereading my blog and commenting, making me reread my blog and prompting me to actually write something

6 weeks ago I ended up in hospital.  I disappeared for a few days, and my parents eventually tracked me down,  turned up, got me discharged and took me home.
Not home.  Their home.
A place I will always have a bed, for sure, but it is not my home, I didn't grow up there, I've barely slept 2 weeks worth of nights there combined, and it's in the country.

It was the worst possible place I could be.  I barely spoke to them, I beat my hands against the backseats of my car as I was taken home because the voices in my head were screaming so loudly.  When I finally slept, I had bad dreams, I woke up early and immediately asked to be allowed to go home.  My home.

A few days later I was staying with a good friend and #superaggressivefb.  It was probably the first major incident of my mental state he's had to deal with, at least directly.

And so, very quietly and calmly, at one moment we were alone, he simply said: "And next time, you will call me."
I grumbled non-commitantly.
"The next time, you WILL call me."
"Fine." I whisper, resignedly adding him to the mental list of people to inform in the first instance after the event.
"So next time, it won't be your parents picking you up, it will be me and you'll come here."

20 different thought streams fire off in my head at once.  Huge senses of anger and relief.  The imagined conversation between my friend and #superaggressivefb where he explains how my parents are a trigger.  Irritation that #superaggressivefb knows me so well already as to use my own though process against me.  Frustration.  At him.  At myself.  At my friend.

...#superaggressivefb smirks.  That smirk that he knows all of the above has passed through my mind in a heartbeat.  The smirk that makes me want to see him bleeding on the floor in front of me.

"I will." I say, conciliatory, lacking the grit of teeth my previous response had.

It was the moment that he went from someone I was becoming really good friends with, to getting catapulted into the upper echelons of my trust.  However he knows it and uses it, someone who can gauge me that well is fully capable of walk through every defence I have if they so choose to do so, so I inevitably trust them when implicitly when they demonstrate only a judicious application of this skill.  
(As an aside, the fact that #superaggressivefb has this total level of trust from me, and yet still instils fear and uncertainty when he asks me if I'm sure before he hits me, is the exact thing that turns me on the most about him.
It was also the moment I realised not only was #superaggressivefb a good friend, he was a support network I didn't even know I had.

This weekend I ended up in hospital.  Through my own stupidity more than anything else.  And waiting there, when I awoke, was #superaggressivefb and my other friend.  They took me home.  To #superaggressivefb's home.  They took care of me.  And then they made sure it didn't ruin my weekend.   I remember giving their names as my emergency contacts in the ambulance, but it took me until this afternoon to realise that I didn't have to think who I'd contact, I was just asked and those were the two names instantly in my head.

10 weeks ago I was struggling to rebuild the close support network I'd surrounded myself with over 2 years and lost all in one week.
Now I have the first block to it.

I still don't have my reason.  I have something keeping me interested however, something that for now, I choose to keep very personal.  I'm angry more days than I'm happy.  I bailed midway through a friend's birthday this weekend because I couldn't handle that much social interaction.  Work continues to help distract me from my problems, and exacerbate them as everything bottlenecks at me.  Today is a struggle and time just stretches on and on as the clock refuses to budge.  But it's perversely reassuring to know that when it all goes wrong, I won't be so alone next time, there'll be someone there beside me.

Wednesday, 1 July 2015

Hiding the words that dont come out

The other day, I was given a very privileged insight into a friend.  It was short, and understated by them. But a lot of our friendship is.  We say little, often passed-over, things to each other, because we don't need to respond.

That little action spoke more volumes than I could possibly put down in a simple blog post.  It's more than a matter of simple trust, it's the understanding of our friendship that one simple comment was all that was required; the peek into how they've come to be the person they are; who they once were; an idea of some little bits of a person that few might know about.

It was, quietly, an emotionally intense moment for me, and I find myself still reeling slightly this morning.  Trust is easy to repay, privilege is a much more tricky beast.

Friday, 19 June 2015


Fair warning announcement:

Tomorrow is the first National Women's Hockey League draft day in the US

I am hugely excited for the NWHL starting this year.  I firmly believe there should be more representation of women in professional sports.  I believe women's sporting leagues should recieve equal billing to men's leagues, especially at top level. 

Every 5 year old boy in the UK KNOWS he can be a footballer (soccer) if he wants, no questions asked.   5 year old girls deserve to know they can be hockey players, footballers, rugby players, scientists, car mechanics or boardroom executives.  Every 5 year old boy should know he can grow up to be a princess and have a fairy tale wedding if he wants.

These women train hard, potentially harder than their male peers have to.  They are just as skilled and dedicated.  I can't wait to see them play.

I freely confess, I don't know much about women's hockey.  I don't know who the players to watch are, who the upcoming talent is, what rivalries I should love to hate.  Even in the internet age coverage of women's sports is usually just not that accessible or broadly available.  That is a failing in the sporting world.  The NWHL is a great step towards trying to fix that

As a New York Rangers fan, I will be supporting the New York Riveters when the 2015-16 season starts in October, but I am so unbelievably excited for the entire NWHL as a whole.  My passion and enthusiasm is for hockey.  Not men's hockey.  Hockey, pure and simple.   I intend on bringing that same passion I have for the Rangers to anything that gives me an excuse to watch even more top level hockey next season.

Let's Go Riveters!

(For more information on the NWHL go to

Tuesday, 5 May 2015

And on and on...

I have to make it through I tell myself.  I have to get through this.  By why?  Why do I tell myself that?

Because it's what's expected.  Because it'd look bad otherwise.

You have to deal with it.  Just till then.  After that, you can collapse for a bit, let a little bit out, before you have to make it through again.

Don't run.  Don't hide.  Don't look for a way out.  Where would you even go.  Where could you go.  Where could you actually go and not need to come back.  So don't run.  You can't.  There's no point.  You just have to get on with it.  Stick it out.  You can't leave. Even if you tried, you know you can't.

Giving up.  Stopping.  Failing.  That's pathetic.  So keep going.  Get on with it.  Do it. Until you can break just a little bit.  And then get on with it all over again.

Living for the weekend

My old roommate came to stay.  We have a joke that we're not boyfriends.  I don't have any kind of romantic love for him.  He's not a soulmate.  But he's... a part of me?  ...a kindred spirit?
I realised how much I missed him.  How much I need him.  How much the little, quiet things he does became critical parts of my coping mechanisms.  He's so emotionally astute he acts before you even knew you needed him to. 

I remembered just how much of my support network I catastrophically lost within a matter of weeks.  How much everything fell apart at the same time.
I realized how I haven't managed to rebuild anything even resembling one facet of that structure.

I'm living for my escapes right now - a weekend off away from the world; the pain of getting beat up for sexual gratification; an afternoon where a fake world on a boardgame is the only version of reality; the heavy, struggling-to-breathe ache of a little too much hard liquor to 'celebrate' another week I've got through; a hockey game that feels as if I have an identity aside from the ones I absorb from other people.

I smile, I laugh, I experience the incomprehensible love my friends have for me. 
There are momentary brief incandescent flashes of blinding life.
But I still can't find a reason to fight, a reason to live for, something to strive towards. 

No one can say a word and give me that, I don't expect them too, it's not some misunderstanding that there's nothing good for me.  Bright burning moments just become anomalous data points in a generally declining lifeline. 

I still think about suicide daily.  I'm still trying to work out a plan that will succeed, that's viable, that's accessible.  Still just going through the motions until then for lack of anything else to do.  To keep occupied.  
If not I'd sit there, passively depressed.

I don't want to be passively depressed, I actively want to not be here constantly doing everything that is living. 

Even sleep.  Sleep is easier than most admittedly, but it's still something you do, and I'm seemingly more aware of my sleeping than most people, I notice the time pass while I sleep, and its something that takes effort, exertion, time, commitment, concentration.  Its less demanding, and importantly usually less taxing, than being awake, but it is still living.
And I am tired of living.

Monday, 4 May 2015

Platonic feelings

To the boy who sat there slowly stroking my hair for an hour and a half without saying a word, because he could tell my head was giving me severe issues, I could not love you more than I did in that moment.  You almost made me cry as I realized how much you silently do for me, and how much I need you.

Thursday, 23 April 2015

Lie to me

Go away.  Just... Stop.  Just like that.  It'd be nice wouldn't it.

Thursday, 16 April 2015

Certain words in uncertain times

I know it's hard to tell how mixed up you feel, hoping what you need is behind every door; each time you get hurt I don't want you to change, because everyone has hopes, you're human after all.
The feeling sometime wishing you were someone else, feeling as though you never belong: this feeling is not sadness, this feeling is not joy, I truly understand. Please, don't cry now.

Please don't go, I want you to stay.
I'm begging you please, please don't leave here.
I don't want you to hate; for all the hurt that you feel,
The world is just illusion, trying to change you

Being like you are, well this is something else.
Who would comprehend?
But some that do lay claim divine purpose blesses them.
That's not what I believe, and it doesn't matter anyway.
A part of your soul ties you to the next world, or maybe to the last, but I'm still not sure.
But what I do know, is to us the world is different - as we are to the world, but I guess you would know that.

The world is just illusion...

Wednesday, 15 April 2015


I'm just putting this out there, any crazed psycho murders wanna turn up in my bedroom overnight, I'm game.  For real.

Just saying...

Saturday, 11 April 2015


You probably know I pick my words very carefully.  My choice of one word over another is usually intentional, reasoned, planned.

'Survive' is a word I've come to hate.  It's something people have come to expect of me.  Friends, partners, strangers.  I'm unfortunately very good at surviving.  Against most things other people wouldn't.  I have this detestable habit of always landing on my feet.  It's not an ability I'm proud of, or even try to make happen.  When I seek medical help, it counts against me - despite depression, suicidal thoughts, hearing voices, the fact I survive - I get up, I go to work, I put food in me - gets me written off as someone who will cope, eventually, sooner or later.  It might get bumpy, but I'll come out the other end of it by myself somehow.  The mere use of the word is enough to get me angry these days.  You'd be impressed at the amount of sheer vitriol I can put into a single word when I have to say it.  I utterly hate the word, and the concept..

With that in mind, and the caveat that currently, I'm not so sure how sold I am on the title word of this song, I give you Switchfoot's Thrive:

Been fighting things that I can't see
Like voices coming from the inside of me and
Like doing things I find hard to believe in
Am I myself or am I dreaming?

I've been awake for an hour or so
Checking for a pulse but I just don't know
Am I a man when I feel like a ghost?
The stranger in the mirror is wearing my clothes

No, I'm not alright
I know that I'm not right
A steering wheel don't mean you can drive
A warm body don't mean I'm alive

No, I'm not alright
I know that I'm not right
Feel like I travel but I never arrive
I wanna thrive not just survive

I come alive when I hear you singing
But lately I haven't been hearing a thing and
I get the feeling that I'm in between
A machine and a man who only looks like me

I try and hide it and not let it show
But deep down inside me I just don't know
Am I a man when I feel like a hoax?
The stranger in the mirror is wearing my clothes

No, I'm not alright
I know that I'm not right
A steering wheel don't mean you can drive
A warm body don't mean I'm alive

No, I'm not alright
I know that I'm not right
Feel like I travel but I never arrive
I wanna thrive not just survive

I'm always close, but I'm never enough
I'm always in line, but I'm never in love
I get so down, but I won't give up
I get so down, but I won't give up
I get so down, but I won; t give up

Been fighting things that I can't see
Like voices coming from the inside of me and
Like doing things I find hard to believe in
Am I myself or am I dreaming?

Am I myself or am I dreaming?
Am I myself or am I dreaming?

Thrive, thrive, thrive, yeaah, thrive

No, I'm not alright
I know that I'm not right
A steering wheel don't mean you can drive
A warm body don't mean I'm alive

No, I'm not alright
I know that I'm not right
Feel like I travel but I never arrive
I wanna thrive not just survive
I wanna thrive not just survive

Yeah yeah
Feel like I travel but I never arrive
I wanna thrive not just survive
I wanna thrive not just survive
I wanna thrive not just survive

Feels like I travel but I never arrive
I wanna thrive not just survive

A warm body don't mean I'm alive

We fell by the wayside, and slowly watched ourselves die
A lonely death in which no one cared and no one came
When the walls cave in, we only have ourselves to blame

Now even if it's perfect, I can't get carried away
And motivate my tongue in twisted ways
It felt like a good night, for dancing and the moonlight
In empty streets, well, everybody's got a reason why
If we could only just get it right

Maybe it will all work out like in the movies
But I know Romeo must die before the ending
With a final poison kiss delivered gently
Because you don't get lucky twice, and that's the truth

Sing to me sweet, just like my memory
If New York City still moves me
Then I found something real
I'll be okay, I could go on for days
But I just don't have the courage that it takes to be real

Stop the world, I want to get off.

I wish I had a way to stop all this.  All of it

Something just broke

...Because buses don't go fast enough during rush hour.

That was the answer I gave when asked why I'd come to A&E.

San Francisco is to far away.
I don't have any of the right kind of drugs around.
I don't have my car with me right now.  I don't own a parking garage.
A knife to the wrist, whilst very accurate on my part, didn't work last time.
Various other methods (such as turning the gas on) would unfairly endanger others.
The problem is, having failed last time, my mind isn't happy to settle on something unless I can guarantee 100% success rate. Learn from your mistakes.

Objectively, I'm in the best place I've been in a while.  I've paid off all my significant debts, I can pay my bills, keep a roof over my head, I went on holiday and still had a home to come back to this time, I have a job, I can buy what food I like, I have friends that care about me and people I care about.
All of that sounds great in theory right?  But it's not a reason.
I lost my will to fight.  That thing that makes you get out of bed in the morning, that thing that makes you strive for more, that thing that makes life anything other than just endlessly going through the motions, because it's what you're supposed to do, because if you do that, people won't see anything wrong, because you can't think of anything else to do.
I think I lost it a long time ago.  But for a long while, there was someone else.  Someone to work to be with, a life to aim for.  That's gone, I get it.  But when that went, it made me realise I was missing a reason for myself, and had been for a long while.  Now it's 6 months later, and I still don't have the slightest inkling of why I pay my bills, why I go to work, why any of it is in the least bit worthwhile.

I get angry at myself for even continuing to try.  Carrying on in some foolish hope that one day, I'll start finding some reason to keep going again.  Because I'm a millenial and I have to feel special and I have to feel like there is something that applies to me specifically.  Mediocre isn't good enough.  Half a success isn't good enough.  I can and should do better.  Other people don't need any of this, so I should be better than that.  I hate myself for pretending and trying, when at the end of the day, even if I achieved something, even if I got somewhere, it all ends up fairly inconsequential and pointless anyway.  For all my spiritualism, I don't believe in any kind of afterlife, at least not a practical one - one where you retain any sense of memory.  So whether it's now, or it's 50 years away, it all comes down to the same thing.  At least this way you get to choose.

Buses don't go fast enough during rush hour.

Friday, 3 April 2015


Geography is important. Different places evoke feelings and memories. The way people respond varies from person to person, place to place.

I occasionally use the hashtag #TheWorldIsQuietHere. As in Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events it signifies a place of comfort and security. A place where all my worries and burdens fall away. A place where I find myself completely at peace, content, and able to sit and watch the world pass me by, happy to just be aware of that singular moment. More so than the safety of my home, or the quietness of a good mental health day, this is a feeling tied to a few very specific places (and times) in the world, that I find utterly beautiful.

Bethesda Fountain in the sun, listening to the singers under the bridge.
The Spanish Steps, 4am in the morning, when strangers talk to each other, share food and stories.
The Marin County Headlands, overlooking Golden Gate Bridge

A bare handful of spaces, but here, and only here, does everything in my head stop. Not just for a second, but for as long as I can spare to be here.

I lay awake last night full of abject terror. I can still remember that feeling, I can still remember all the things that prompted it. But here, where the world is quiet, I can think about and remember them and it simply doesn't touch me. I don't know what it is about these specific places more than any other. It's not a sensation I can replicate; it doesn't matter when I visit them; it doesn't how bad or good things are going for me, everything about the world just stops. Waiting for me when I'm ready. Patient, not insistent. The world can wait.

The world is quiet here.

Tuesday, 17 March 2015

The smile that's on my face

Would you catch me if I fall out of what I fell in, don't be surprised if I collapse down at your feet again...

Wednesday, 4 March 2015


I found this today.

It's a post I wrote about 3 years ago, shortly after my ex had gone back home.  We'd had a bigger than usual argument.  We'd both reacted badly.  We never really resolved it before he went home.  In fact, we never resolved this argument ever.  I asked him about it a month or so after, he wasn't in a good state, so it got pushed to the side again.  It never got raised again (as evidenced here).  This was also the time when a lot of my most recent bout of mental issues had just started occurring.  This incident didn't help.

This was written as an email that I was never sure if I'd send him again.  But it's a part of me at the time, and I wrote things down, so now, I felt like sharing it.  The fact its about him is fairly inconsequential; but this blog serves a double purpose as a log of who I am at any one time, and how I've changed as a person, so to me, this post means something.  I thought about changing the names for some anonymity, but again, it's a reflection of who I was, what was going on, how I felt, and who I am now.  So I've kept them.

This is likely one of my less interesting posts for the rest of you, it's extremely personal, and a lot of the context will be missing for you (although it's fairly easily inferred).  But it's here nonetheless


I'm sorry.

I miss you.

A lot.

We were spoiled, I saw you in August, December and February, that's 3 times in 6 months.  And now I have to go back to not seeing you for 5 months or so.  I was trying to explain it to Hannah.  I know you're at the end of a facebook, or twitter, or skype, or even a phone call if I'm desperate, but when I'm with you, and especially when you're here where most people know what's going on and accept it, the massive part of my life that you are, I get to fully acknowledge that in my own head.  I get to fall asleep next to you, even when we're mad at each other, I get to tell you I love you or see you make cute faces at me for no reason other than we both have the opportunity to where we normally don't.  And then one of us has to go home, and while we're there for each other as much as we can be, all those little things, I have to forcibly shut out of my mind again, for a long time.  Every time I have a bad day, I have to come home, and still make my own dinner, and fall asleep in an empty bed, when having you there, for 5 minutes, just to hold, just to feel my arms around yours, wouldn't solve my problems, but it'd calm me down, it'd make me remember there's more important things, and that one of the things that matters most, is right there with me.  I know it's just as bad for you, I don't mean I have it harder or worse than you, I know you have to go through all this shit just as much.  I just know how much I hate it, and how much I struggle with it.  I can only really tell you what I know is in my head.

I knew you wouldn't want an argument in the middle of Oxford Street.  You looked angry.  I misread you.  But you looked angry to me and I didn't want 30-45 minutes of you getting angrier.  Which is why I tried to talk to you.  Because I wanted to explain myself and I hadn't had the chance at the sauna despite trying to get some time alone with you before leaving.  I didn't mean to blame you, and I'm really sorry it came across like that.  I know I'm crap at explaining myself when I'm in that kind of state.  I just wanted to try and explain some of where my reaction was coming from.  And in doing so I DID start to get you angry so you walked away.  I'm pretty good at unintentionally backing you into a corner where you'll do exactly the worst thing i could want at that moment.  Maybe one day I'll learn how to stop.  Or learn how to express myself better in those situations.  I know why you walked away, you told me, and I was coming across as doing something different to what I was trying to, next time just forcibly tell me to stop cause you dont want an argument here?  I know you're a private person, I was trying to avoid anything like an argument.  I just failed.  Badly.

I *would* like to come spend time with you and your friends this summer.  I realise what I said might have come across that I didn't.  I've very envious of the friendship you have with Pete.  And very glad me and him seem to be developing our own friendship via facebook.  My time with you is very limited, I only get a few weeks out of any year and that's if we both try really hard and sacrifice the majority our free time and money to be with each other.  And when one or both of us is drunk, we tend to turn into horrible people and yell at each other.  I can take that when it's just the odd day out of each visit.  But while I only get a limited time with you I don't want to risk that we spend most of it pissing each other off.  I don't know what your plans for the summer are going to shape up to be, and maybe they wont involve going somewhere and getting drunk a lot, in which case I'll probably come.  And one day when I get to go home to you on a regular basis, I'll be more willing to risk a week where we might yell at each other a lot of it, but for now I'm going to be selfish, because right now, even though it's not ideal, and in some ways not even nice, for either of us, I'd rather you used the holiday and went away with your friends, and I came and saw you when you have to go to work, and we stayed in in the evenings, and played halo, and cooked for each other.  So let me know what you're thinking, and when, and what the plans are, because I would very much like to come spend some time with you and pete and chris and jonny and whoever on a boat, or in a cabin in vermont, or at your parents house while they're away, or whatever and if I think I can I will.  But I might elect to just play it quiet and safe this summer, because I dont want the little bit of time I have with you to be us yelling at each other because we're still not good at dealing with each other and because drinking turns us into people who aren't that nice to each other.  I haven't expressed this in the way I want to, it's still not coming out right.

I'm sorry I scared you when I freaked out that Friday night.  I don't like that I reminded you of bad memories to do with your exes.  I know I can't be blamed for them, nor can I be hugely accountable for associations in your mind I know nothing about.  But they represent something I very much don't like, and never want to be, and I'm so anti it because I can see myself being them and I'm determined to never let that happen.  You have different personalities in you.  And in fact, since you said that, it's made it a lot easier to understand certain ways you've spoken to me at times or acted around me.  I'm not that extreme on that level, I just have different sides of me, and some are not ones I'm proud of, some I'm downright ashamed of and hate to even admit exist.  And the parts of me that cause me to flip out at people and explode because I don't know how to express what I'm feeling in any sensible way are definitely included in that.  I don't like the way I left the sauna, i know how I was coming across, but I dont know how to stop myself and find a calm method to say what I need to.  I tried to get you alone before leaving, I tried to explain some of it after leaving, and neither attempt went well.  And I'm not proud of any of that in the slightest.

I know you're a very private person in terms of your emotions and what you're going through.  I don't have some NEED to help you through things, I just want to know what's going on with you.  From what I've learnt in the last week I'm guessing you prefer to work through a fair amount of it yourself before you start telling others, and I kinda get that, it's just, sometimes I really have no clue whether you're stressed cause you had a bad day at work, because there's something bigger going on at work, because there's something going on with your family, because of something else, because you just happened to get up on the wrong side of bed that morning, all of the above, etc.  And even when you tell me something's up, I never really know if it gets resolved, or moves on, whether it's still bugging you 3 months later or you worked through it in 2 weeks.  Some of that's me, I'm scared to ask you in case it upsets you cause I hate making you upset.  And I'm not expecting or asking for some kind of weekly list of 'all things affecting your life right now'.  It's just an important thing for me with regards to the people I'm in love with.  I have to know what's going on with them, on some level that's more than other people might be priviliged to.  You can go away and deal with your problems yourself, that's fine, just so long as I know there is a problem.  You're so secretive about stuff that I pretty much completely forgot how bad your sleeping is until Friday night when I was screwing at you and you had to point out you're damn well medicated for it.  Which yes was a lot my fault, and I know one of the reasons people say we get on so well is because we do remember a lot of really random stuff about each other, but I can't be expected to remember every fact about you I got told about once at some point in the last 3 years and don't actually have to deal with.  This sounds like I'm blaming you doesn't it.

I'm rarely blaming you, people tend to know when I'm blaming them, I'm just frustrated, and trying to explain my side of things, and why I get so wound up, and it all comes out wrong, or I suppress it and it comes out worse.

WHy do I suddenly feel like such a failure?   Like the things I don't like about myself or can't change make me less attractive?  Like the fact that I'm not the strong person people think I am, that I need a lot of hand holding, and a lot of support and that I rely on you so much, makes me less in your eyes, makes you realise I'm not the boy you fell in love with 3 years ago.  I'd like to change some of these behaviours, and I'd even consider professional help, but I couldn't do it until you were here by my side.  That's not me trying to put it off, that's me knowing how hard it is for me to step into those rooms, how violently sick my body makes me at the prospect.  And I feel like if I had you to sit there and smile at me I might be able to do it.  Does that make me weaker because I can't even try to help myself?

I can't even post this because it's specific and personal to you.  And I can't make it general to all my friends because it'd lose its meaning.  And I don't intend to email all this to you, or maybe I do one day, as a stream of consciousness, maybe that's the best thing, to see the evolution of my thoughts, to see how I tried to process it and express it.  But you might never see this, and what I just wrote is probably really important.  I just don't know how to tell you it.

You know what really scares me at the moment.  Cuan.  He's a psychologist and I live with him.  I have no reason to be afraid of him.  He's probably  not paying the least bit of attention to my behaviours nor does he know me well enough to assume they might be different from normal.  But that's even more terrifying.  I don't recognize the people in my house, I have no memories of them, but I know I'm familiar with them.  Him I don't know at all.  All I know is he's a psychologist and he's in my living room and I'm scared of talking to him because he might decide I'm crazy.  And he might say something about it, or try to get me to do something about it, and I might be physically backed into a corner and he won't know how irrationally scared I am of him.  I wont hit him or anything, I'm far more likely to yell, or try to control it so I freak out later, or paralyze myself with another panic attack or do something that'll hurt myself because I try to bolt or whatever, just because he was interested and tried to have a conversation with me.

I don't know how to get to be able to tell you stuff.  The things that were in my head at the sauna, I get that I didn't tell you them in the right way, but you walking away means I'm terrified of starting to broach the subject ever again in case you do the same.  I switched off everything in me at the moment and it's making me really ill, I'm still convulsing, I keep getting panic attacks and I'm just lucky none of them happened in the middle of doing something at work, I don't rest cause my mind body keeps spasming and waking in the middle of the night, I get confused by most things around me because people expect me to recognise them or understand what they're saying and I can't remember it before they've even finished the sentence.  And I chose to do this to try and give you some space.  But I can't do it every time, or even a bit of the time, it's an extreme measure and you've seen how bad it makes me.  I've almost walked straight to the hospital after work and sectioned myself 3 times in the last week.  But I can't.  Not because I'm scared.  Because I just started a new job.  Because my boss is going on holiday for 2.5 months and I'm responsible for her role too.  Because my dad is in hospital with god knows what and my mum is barely holding it together on her own.  I just don't have the luxury of admitting how bad I am right now.  And the longer it goes on the more scared I am that when it comes time to switching it all back on again, it'll come out really badly.  I'll freak out at you even worse than I've already done or I will go completely crazy at everything in a way I can't control and I can't hide and I can't ignore.  If I let go of the poorly controlled state I'm in right now, I might make everything worse all over again, especially with you, and then I don't know what I'll be able to do because I'll have already tried the extreme option.  This makes it sound like it's your problem to deal with and get okay with.  It's not.  I just need to tell you that I'm scared of my own reactions to you, and of yours to me, because experience means I'm terrified things will get repeated or be worse, and then I'll never be able to deal with any of my problems, or talk to you about anything that bothers me, because we wont be able to handle each other when I do.

You said you learnt a lot from this week.  Could you tell me some of it?  It's not a test or anything, just sometimes I'm not aware of how I am myself, or sometimes I am aware I just don't know how to articulate it myself; if someone else tells me, I can understand what I'm doing, and how it's coming across more.  Or I can help clarify where there might be exceptions or other things to bear in mind.  Like I say I don't mean it as a test, and you don't have to tell me everything, but sometimes it helps me a hell of a lot to have someone tell me how I react to things or how it appears to others or how others try to deal with me in various states.  Then for instance I might learn to know when you're actually getting angry, and when you're just worried/concerned, cause currently the expression on your face looks pretty much the same to me

It feels somewhat as if we left still half in an argument at each other.  You certainly didn't leave with either of us in a good state.  Normally we'll lose it at each other at some point mid week and then the moment will pass and by the end of our time together we'll be back to what everyone recognises as 'us'.  I'm not saying we're still mad at each other necessarily, just cause things didn't get fully resolved, or even really a little bit resolved in my head, not even really the start of it, it feels somewhat like we had an argument, and then you had to go home.  And I think that means it's never gonna feel like it's over until I'm sleeping next to you in a bed again, until I get to put my arms around you, or have you hold me.  No matter how or when we might get round to talking about it, I dont know that I'm gonna be able to get out of the spiral of thoughts I have around everything that happened with you for months, because I don't have the luxury of being able to look you in the eye, say "I'm sorry, we were both a little stupid, it doesn't matter|"  and hug you and know that we forgive each other and love each other.  We can say it over skype, and that'll help, but it's not the same.

I haven't told anyone I'm having memory issues when I get bad.  I've told them I don't really remember who they are, but I haven't really gone into how bad it is.  I keep forgetting all sorts of things.  Mostly minor things.  But even at work, I'll forget a cue, or to move a piece of set, or to switch a mic on.  Nothing severe, and I'm aware that I've forgotten something but I have no idea what it is.  I keep forgetting where I am a lot of the time, and I have to take a good 30 seconds to examine my surroundings and realise I'm in my bedroom, or kitchen, or on the road to the station - and from the direction I'm facing is the only way I remember whether I was going to or from work.  I keep forgetting what station I need, or which street I need to turn down.  And it's happening very frequently.  Not in that way where you just occasionally have moments of absent mindedness and forget what you walked into a room for or something, this feels very different to that, and I'm aware I'm forgetting something, I'm just not aware what exactly.  I'm having to assume I know people and acknowledge the people I'm at work with, or living with and have conversations with them without actually even knowing what their name is or who they are or how I know them or why they're talking to me until minutes afterwards when I've had the time to sit there by myself and think "who the hell was that."  I need to make a list of all the things that are going on mentally speaking because I simply can't remember all of them at the same time.  My mind keeps blocking various bits out, probably in an attempt to stop me from completely breaking down, but it means I can't explain what's so wrong to people.

I feel very alone.  There's so much going on and with my family I'm having to be the strong one.  My mum just told me my parents are flat broke.  The rest of my family is interfering in my dad's care so much my mum and I just had to restrict access to his medical notes and bedside.  I know they're fussing because they mean well, but that's how bad they've got.  You're on the other side of the world.  And you have a lot of your own problems going on that you need time and space to deal with.  And there's stuff going on between us that's not sorted and I kind of wonder if we'll ever actually get round to dealing with it or just quietly ignore it as time passes, so even though you're the one I want most in this, and talking to you calms me down, I can't ask you to be the one that's there for me.  I get the feeling I'm not supposed to be so reliant on you, period.  Which is a problem for me because I'm generally very reliant on the person that I'm, for lack of a better way of putting it, 'involved with'.  But either way right now I'm not really allowed to use you unless its a dire emergency.  The fact I want to cry every day isn't an emergency because I want to do it every day right now.  I know I have friends, I know I have skippy and chris and paul and adam, but I don't really know who they are.  I get scared when I have to interact with them, especially for long periods of time.  And because of my hours, and adam's hours, and adam's own problems, I never see him around at home for longer than 15 minutes while we're cooking something or the like.  I don't mean that as a criticism, but its not like I can find him in the living room and just sit there, him on his laptop, me playing halo and at least be there with someone and not feel so alone.  The other people in my house I really have no idea who they are.  Having them around is like sitting next to a stranger on the bus.  You do it, it's not a problem, but if you're feeling alone they're gonna do jack shit about helping you feel connected to people in any way.  Sal... just isn't around.  I can't do any other night in the week because I'm working.  I text him this afternoon, that's a Monday, asking if he was around at all.  I haven't heard back from him even to say no, or sorry i just woke up.  Because he's elsewhere, or trashed still, or passed out from being trashed all weekend.  He's complaining that he can't be there for people if we don't tell him what's going on and when I just want to have him come over, and watch a stupid movie, and just sit with me, not necessarily talk, just sit because I love him and he loves me, he's not there and he's not even around enough to say that he can't.  I'm in charge at work.  I'm surrounded by people there, some of whom I get on with great.  But I'm in charge of them.  I have to keep that professional distance.  They're not my friends.  They're not people I can break down in front of, or snap at without cause and expect forgiveness.  I'm their boss.  So that's it.  Family, work, you, sal, skippy, adam, chris, paul, I know you're all sort of there.  But I feel really distant from everything and everyone.  If I ended up in hospital suddenly or something, sure you'd all come to my bed and tell me you loved me and take it easy and not to worry about my responsibilities and such, and I'm not saying I don't want any responsibilities.  There's just nothing for the constant every day things that are going on right now.  That's all me.  On my own.  Stumbling through it.  Hoping I can last just long enough that you might be able to talk to me, hoping that adam might be up when I get home and then getting scared when  he walks in the room and I don't know who he is.  Praying for the audience to go home from work early because then I can leave earlier and not have to cover up spasmic movements as cold shivers.