No more.

I think this blog isn’t the only thing dying. As my mind deteriorates my sanity falls further and I just want to let go. Yet doing so is in fact fatal. I can’t live without purpose. I know it is often  questioned as to why one needs purpose to live. Perhaps not everyone does. But to feel as though you could be normal, you could be sane. That doesn’t happen just anywhere. And I don’t want to let go of where it will happen. 


This time last year. I wrote, or rather, drafted all of my suicide notes. but now, it’s worse, because I don’t feel like there’s anything left to say to anyone. Surely I couldn’t be insane if I didn’t acknowledge it, know it. Yet I feel it so innately it’s taken over my life until I’ve become a weak, wobbling, feeble and sickly mess. I drink too much, smoke too much, and hate myself for it.

So hence, this is a goodbye of many sorts. An end to writing, to life, and to all of life’s problems. I will not move on. I will not suffer anymore. 


The Unknown.

Currently, I’m during the transition of the next phase in my life. And I couldn’t be more terrified. It’s scary to think of what will happen. But yet again, I need my tabula rasa. A fresh start on a blank slate for me to fill with wonders.

Someone I cared about deeply once said to me “you need to suffer”. I could agree more. We experience life. As I choose to live fast and die young, I want to explore every aspect of life, and while I have goals and dreams and things I want to do and places I want to accomplish, I’m scared. I’m a coward, I fear life, unlike most who fear death. Someday, I want to throw in the towel. I want to quit life on my own terms. “When I die will you close my casket? Make it glass so I can see who cared.” 

To fall, I think, would be a beautiful feeling. To fall and hit the ground so hard all of your misery is released. This dreadful life I’ve lived has been bearable over the past two years has been because of my students. They inspire me to keep moving with their wishes of good luck as I leave this city to my fresh start. If I had my way, I would stay with them forever. They are my home. I can’t bear the thought of leaving them for a day, I absolutely avoid the thought. I have one week left in this country, and only four days with them. The last time I was forced to leave them and work only part time amongst them, I dealt with it in the worst possible way. So now, I become anxious with the  turn of events that approaches. An eighteen hour flight and a twelve hour difference wants me to mourn my progression. 

Someday, I will return to this home of mine, to stay. At least, I dream of it, hope for it with the heart I may have. It brings such tears to my eyes, but I can go on with this little hope. “Someday, somehow, I’ll make it home, and I’ll stick up. One day, I say, no more packing up, I’m settling down. Some day, some day, I’ll figure it out. Someday, somehow. No more birthdays from the telephone. No more holidays spent alone. No more asking when I’m coming home. I’m sticking around.” 

I turn to alcoholism, to smoking for some sweet relief, yet I can’t bear to let my home know this. I am a happy, smiling, dedicated person to them. And that is the only place I can be that way, it seems. They bring a part of me to life that I love. I’ve never loved anything about myself, but this is something I’m proud of. The work I do. 

Part of me keeps thinking “I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. It’s so scary.” But alas, there is no option. Four AM on a Monday morning, with work in a few hours, I wonder what it is I am doing with my life. I don’t know where it’s heading. The Unknown is something mankind often fears, though. I am only human. The irony of that is the number of times I’ve been called a robot. Or been told that I am not one. 

So here I go, into the Unknown. 

Wish me luck?

Time has passed since I last wrote.

My mind is slowly wandering to the darker part, and I feel my sanity wither away as I gasp for a breath of fresh air.

Yet fresh air itself is not welcome at a time when you are surrounded by such an oblivion; you begin to become accustomed to this oblivion.

You wait, and hope.

Hope left long ago when there was no room left for it. You needed to focus on keeping your sanity intact.

Or at the very least what was left of it.

Waiting, waiting. Dissociating.

Every ticking of the clock becomes louder, and louder, deafening; you can’t hear anymore. Your senses are as dulled as your will to live. Where do you turn to? Your rock.

But can they help? That is soon to be discovered.

They once said they could not fix all, only guide you in times of darkness.

This is a time of darkness. Lead me out. Guide me to reverie.


I haven’t written in a while, but this does not mean that I haven’t had anything to write about. Mid-February my life really picked up in some of the best senses. I found myself with a new best friend, two different guys to have my pick of with dating, and all the freedom I could ever ask for. 

However, this also meant I fell far behind with work. I had been looking for this opportunity. An escape from day to day life, just for me to be able to forget all of my troubles. This went on for about a week. I dated two guys and spent every other minute with my best friend. The week came to an end. The work had piled up. The deadline arrived. And I still felt no need to work. So I pulled through that weekend all-nighter at a time, getting as much as I could done. 

And guess what? I actually had the most amazing week to follow, too! So I guess it was fortunate. However, in the week to follow that one, I fell ill. I missed several… examinations of sorts. So now the work has piled up again, I haven’t seen anyone in a week, and I’m practically cringing at the thought of all the work I have to get done. 

So when times get pretty harsh work-wise, how do you cope? I work better under pressure, no doubt about it. But you can’t always afford to do that. 

A short post with a lot of questions, but give it a think –

Would you ever just give up?

Or are you the type to keep pressing on with life no matter what gets in the way?
And why is that? Have you perhaps never faced a hardship that made you feel this way?
Or have you perhaps already encountered one – or several – that has somehow changed life so that you don’t really want to give up?

Do you even give it a thought? And feel like giving up?


See, over the past few weeks, circumstances have led me to crawl into my bed and just stay there. Maybe I’ll leave the bed, just for a walk in the late evening. Yet I cannot bring myself to find a reason why I should leave the loving warmth of my bed.

As a mix of being ill and depressed, all I really want to do right now is hop in a cab, run to my bedroom, and crawl into the comfort of my bed. Yet here I am, enduring a full day.

My state right now?

Currently mesource:

Currently me

Well, are you a quitter, or not?

I know I am.


NB: This is not a post to motivate you. Just perhaps get you thinking.

The text I never sent.

I really wanted to die, a little while ago.
Really, really wanted to die.
But I couldn’t bring myself to disturb you. I wanted to hear a voice.
I’m better now, and I can bring myself to text you.
I wanted to die but there’s a ledge below my balcony, there is nothing sharp, I have no access to anything else, and I have no other means. Everything else may lead to failure.
I wanted to die so much I cried for hours.
I wanted to die so much I texted Stones in hopes he’d fix things, but he can’t. He even said so.
He begged me to live for him. But I couldn’t agree.
Anything for him, I said. Anything at all. But that.
I’m tired. I was tired. Now, I’m going to hope I can still sleep now and get enough rest to revise.
I wanted to die so much I wondered why my ‘best friend’ is never there for me.
I wanted to die.
I still want to.
But I can’t. That’s how it’s always been. Even told the doctors that.
I want to die, but I can’t. For I may fail.
I wanted to send you this text. But I cannot.


My last post was soppy, I know. But moving on, today I felt like contemplating attraction. (And that’s not soppy, how?)

You see, I find myself attracted to a person I don’t see frequently. I haven’t seen them socially in about a year, yet continue seeing them when they pass by during the work week. This gets to be frustrating, as I cannot seem to rationalise how I could possibly be attracted to someone with whom I have had little to no interaction with.

Perhaps it is that the few times I have met or spoken to them, that they have astounded me with the rare kindness they possess as an individual. The most challenging aspect of writing this post is to admit I like this person. And when I do see them, be it in passing or during small talk, I find myself happier. I can further yet question how someone I know so little about can make me happier than my own best friend. What stems from this as an answer is that A. I am not on good terms with my best friend, and B. That perhaps the form of attraction is different… Yet it is not. I feel the type of attraction for this person as one would for their current love interest. Only, I am stuck calling that ‘love interest’ my best friend.

So they make me happy. Check.
I’m attracted to them. Check.
They make me laugh. Check.

What seems to be missing? Well, I guess that’s all on my part. I’m just about as socially awkward as can be, especially around this person. I stutter, get stuck for words, and find myself averting my eyes at every possible moment. This person claims to understand, but really, I don’t feel many, if any, people can. My social awkwardness is not of the common type, but rather it stems from my dissociative disorder. And this seems to make it all the more difficult to explain, let alone comprehend.

Just about there, my mind began to wander and shortly after, procrastination ensued. But is it procrastination if you are procrastinating what you were procrastinating with? Riddle me that, will you?

Strangers… Or not?

On New Year’s Eve I was walking down to a coffee shop I frequent when I want to work. Or just get out of the house. I’m actually here now. However, I digress. Point is, that as I was walking down here, I met a stranger. It was pouring. I offered them shelter under my umbrella. You would think that, after we parted ways at the stoplight, this would be last time I saw them.


And this is my point. People often don’t realise how small the world really is. So when you’re kind to someone, and you meet them again. You’ll be greeted with a smile.

But what if you aren’t kind, then what? There are several stories that go along these lines, but it’s never really said clearly enough, is it? Or do people just ignore all the life lessons others’ experiences are teaching them.

Where I reside, a lot of young people sit down on metro seats reserved for the elderly or the disabled. They refuse to move, even when someone who desperately needs a seat comes along.

This post is short, but I’m keeping it to the point. Respect everyone, until you have reason not to. Someday, that smile could really shine through the shitty storm you’re getting soaked in.