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JB's Guide To Insanity

We Are All Flawed

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The Octopus Who Tried to Stay Positive

As always BIG TRIGGER WARNING PEEPS. If you have thoughts of self-harm and suicide please read with caution.

borderline-personality-disorder

What if you can’t stay positive?

What if in times of stress you can’t see the good that is around you?

What if you feel alone even when surrounded by people?

What if those you love, who usually make you the brightest person on the planet, seem so distant that they are basically echoes?

 What if no matter how hard you try to feel something you don’t, and when you do feel it is either deep sadness, overwhelming anxiety, emptiness, loneliness, or all of those feelings combined?

What if you are scared by the above notion that some people do not have a choice in those feelings? That thoughts aren’t the key to solving these problems, because the thoughts themselves cannot be changed. It’s hard to accept never mind understand, but none the less there is no choice provided to you. You have these thoughts and feelings and they are rigid no matter what is said or done.

I’d say I’m a fighter. I’ve been here long enough and gone through enough to know that I am one who will always keep trying. “I’m still here.” has become my comfort and reassurance to people. I’ve battled severe depression and anxiety for a while now and managed to keep myself alive, even with all the suicidal thoughts constantly there for however many years it has been. It’s hard to get a grasp on when things happened in my life with all the medication and mental illness clouding my mind but I think it has been around three years now. I did a rough calculation and found that over the past three years I have been depressed/suicidal for over a thousand days.

A thousand days which is rather daunting. I believe I’m allowed to say that it’s a fucking testament to my strength that I am still here, even though admittedly it has taken its toll on me. I do sometimes feel a bit like the Wolverine of mental health, no lie though. Not to glorify it at all but you know. I’m proud of myself for being here.

wolvey
Big up my fellow nerds xoxo

 Here’s a confession. I haven’t felt joy or whatever happiness is for around a month. I mean the belief that we should all be happy all the time is bullshit anyway and happiness I do believe is more akin to a drug rather than an actual state of being. 100% happy people please do correct me if I’m wrong…

The moment of joy was this brief shining one that lasted for the entirety of one day. Before that I was up and down constantly. Mostly down and even when I was happy, the numb emptiness and suicidal thought track is always in the back of my mind during and then prominent after. That’s the difference between myself and someone without a mental illness. Stability doesn’t exist to me.

I recently got diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. It’s kind of a mental illness cocktail with depression anxiety and a whole other bunch of stuff thrown in to the mix.

http://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/types-of-mental-health-problems/borderline-personality-disorder-bpd/#.WQQmWIjyvIU

and I also have hyper sensitivity and Crohn’s.

FUN! Lol.

I’ve kind of realised through talking about it that I’ve probably always had the disorder in my life. I exhibit most, if not at times all, of the symptoms along with some others that aren’t in that link. Its effected my relationships, my social life in a lot of miniscule and also huge ways. I do and have done things that don’t seem to have reason to even myself and that’s not in the typical ‘twat about whilst you are young’ way either… These were things that really fucked up my life when there was no reason to fuck it up. I worry about everything I do or say or think and how others perceive me and it has gradually worn me down. I am by nature contradictory, one minute I will have one stance the next another. Fundamentally I know I try to be kind however, in terms of personal wants and needs I am very flippant. There are honestly so many symptoms and things my brain goes through all whilst trying to get through day to day life (each day feels like a week) and live as well as possible.

Can you see why it may be hard for me to communicate what is going on with me?

If you have clicked on that link for BPD then you will see the intense emotions that vary throughout the day bit. So, it’s got to the point where I don’t have that anymore really because I am just gone. It was beyond horrible when it was like that and I think my brain had to cope with it by just shutting off all emotion as it has done before. Sounds lucky I know but… I only feel bad things or emptiness now which is a barrel of laughs.

My point of this entire post though is this.

We as a society can sometimes expect those with mental health issues to fix their problems by simply thinking positively. There is a lot of pressure to always be happy, always stay level headed. I was the same before I was around it. Don’t get me wrong positivity helps. Definitely helps. But with my condition, most of the time I cannot think positively. Try to see it as me saying I can’t physically lift something. If you gave me a car and told me to lift it I wouldn’t be able to because I am a skinny little shit.

“I can’t mentally do it” should be a new saying.

Again just because someone can’t mentally do something it doesn’t mean they aren’t trying. It doesn’t mean they have given up. You have to give people credit for trying right?

shrug
Right?

 Me being positive is not self-harming, me being positive is not giving in to the suicidal thoughts, me being positive is identifying what is real and what isn’t. Are they talking about me? Are they thinking I’m a piece of shit? Did I offend that person? Do I have feelings for that person who I’ve already established I don’t have feelings for ect ect ect ect on a daily basis. A daily fucking basis haha.

You’ve got to laugh or you’ll cry for real.

Here’s the thing I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, I literally just want you to understand. I just want to be understood because a lot of the time I can’t be understood. I’m lucky enough that people around me always try to understand. I know though that there are others who aren’t in that situation. I guess this next bit is for famiies or friendship groups who have a loved one that’s struggling to deal with shit.

Please try to understand that sometimes there isn’t a choice and sometimes there isn’t really a thing that can make it better with some people. That doesn’t mean don’t try to make it better it just means maybe listen instead. You’ll never know how far just listening and hugging or smiling and saying you are there can do for someone. Tell them it will get better though they can’t see it but understand that they cannot see it. Just try not to put pressure on that person to think positive to change their mental illness.

“You’ve just got to stay positive.” Is not something that can always help. Try and judge the situation. Believe me I know how hard it is because I’ve been around people suffering from mental health issues since I was sixteen and I didn’t know how to handle it at first. If you say that to someone close to you then watch their reaction. The little sideways glance as they think ‘but I can’t mentally do that, there’s a block’. The silence because they feel pressured to not let you know that they can’t think positive, no matter how hard they try they just can’t see the other side, even though it very much exists.

Its very easy for us to feel like we are wrong or broken because of these thoughts.

You may not understand and that is fair enough because honestly, we don’t fully either. Me and a close friend of mine call ourselves octopus’ because we are unstable in every way. Physically, mentally, emotionally.

octo
Look at this fabulous mother fucker tho ❤

Like I said you have to laugh or you’ll cry. When crying takes up most of your time it’s always nice to laugh every now and then.

I just want to be understood. Most people do. I have BPD, I’m a mental Samurai Master, I’m an Octopus and I’m also human just like you.

I have found that it doesn’t take much to try.

Peace peeps, stay safe xoxo

Dying Bravely: Episode Two

Jacob’s bug eyes were jolting from person to person. He broke in to a sprint and turned every corner heading towards the smoke. Chaos. ‘No sirens, why aren’t there any sirens?’ He carried on all the way in to town, only having to break two or three times to catch his breath. Still no sirens. Many other people had caught on to this too and were running full pelt all around him. Jacob drowned out the voices all shouting at one another. All noise. The group of two hundred or more came to their first blockade. An entire four story office building collapsed on it’s side, which was large enough to block up the roads. People were hanging from the windows, some were scattered across the pavement and tarmac, dismembered or worst. Blood and fire was everywhere. Jacob helped where he could, dragging people from the rubble, trying to put out fires, comforting the dying.

It didnt seem real to him. This was not him. He didnt do this. This wasnt reality, this was, must have been a nightmare. This was false. Hours passed. There were still people trapped in the rubble. No authorities came. No sirens. As a few left to help in other areas or find loved ones, another few left to bring vans and tools to help at the scene. Twenty men, lead by a former fire fighter had driven to the fire station where they had found it abandonned. Returning with three fire engines they helped put out the numerous fires and used the ladders to reach people high up.

Eventually after four hours they believed they had rescued anyone still alive to rescue and most of the crowd, including Jacob moved on through and over collapsed alleys, demolished houses, a caved in sewer and a dozen or more shops that had been brought to rubble.

Corpses and limbs littered the streets.

The day went on. The dead far outweighed the living as the crowd got closer and closer to the crash site. Soon enough questions of “how could this happen?” Or “where are the authorities?” Became a thing of the past. Soon enough there weren’t many injured people lying amongst the army of bodies… No one left to save.

The darkened skies were now turning to dusk and what little sunlight they had was now replaced by torches and head flash lights. They had to abandon the fire engines when another road block stopped them from being brought around the wreckage and in to places of use. The former fireman who’s name Jacob believed was Oliver was a grizzled, towering, gruff man in his mid sixties, who had a rough face that time had not been kind to. As the journey went on Oliver had become the defacto leader due to his experience in fire and rescue, his medical training also helped too on more than one occasion.

Jacob was the first to set sights on the crash sight. A thick dry coat of dust and blood covering his body and his clothes. There was fire spread around the remnants of the black plane that had broken in half and folded like paper, the tail at a 90 degree angle poking from a meteoric dig in the ground facing the men and women.

“That cant have been any normal plane.” Oliver grumbled nearby Jacob. “To make an impact like this?”

The front end of the plane was on the other side of the giant blast zone shredded and ablaze. To the left and right of the blast zone emmerged the other groups of people who had been helping their way through the chaos. They silently nodded at eachother before looking down in to the pit of plane wreckage. “What do you reckon was in there then?” A man asked Jacob who was staring gormlessly in to the fire.

“I erm- im not sure.” Jacob replied caught off guard.

The man looked over at Oliver. “Its a military plane right, Oliver?”

Oliver nodded and walked over. It was at this point Jacob noticed that the leader of the group had been wearing what appeared to be a well fitted white shirt, black suit pants and smart shoes that were all now filthy and torn up.

“Aye it is.” Oliver snorted. “It’s a Boeing C-17 Globemaster III. Or was. Painted all black though… bit odd.”

“Maybe its some secret government black site thing like in America area 56 or whatever its called.” The man droned making Jacob think he was a simpleton.

A few others also walked over and gave their opinions. Jacob switched off and took a step towards the edge looking deep in to the chasm. There in the middle of the plane crash was a set of cargo containers which appeared to be ripped open with large claw marks in them.

Before Jacob could say anything a crackling came over on Oliver’s walkie talkie.

“Craven. It’s Alan. We’ve just been to the edge of town it’s not good.”

“What is it?” Oliver replied looking around at the others.

“We are being quarantined…” Alan sighed exasperated. “They are closing all exits to the town off. We are on our own.”

Jacob looked back in to the pit and clenched his fists until they turned white.

Dying Bravely: Episode One

06:05 AM
Tuesday, 05/05/16

Jacob Thorne

Weary crusted red eyes. They were always so heavy on him. The idea of moving from the bed which kept him warm lead Jacob to thoughts of suicide and then to the comforting arms of sleep again. He awoke ten minutes later and decided he could continue through the day if only he willed himself to do so. Clawing his way out of the double bed like a mole out of the Earth, Jacob stumbled as he got to his feet and checked himself over in the body length mirror by his bedroom door.

‘You look like shit today.’ He thought to himself before remembering that, to him he looked like shit on a daily basis.

Breakfast went down better than it had done the previous day. Toast and a cup of black coffee. Not that the caffeine did anything for Jacob other than give him gentle palpatations and increase his ever present anxiety. There was movement outside of the house he now owned by himself. Jacob’s neighbour Peter going to work.

Peter was twice Jacob’s age and pleasant enough however, Jacob being a twenty six year old manic depressive who’s only friend was a self absorbed, over weight Ginger Moggie named Arthur was not really the type of person who wanted to have ‘small talk’ with anyone. Especially people who seemed to be overly happy with life as it was.

Arthur was sat by the sofa licking his fluffy paws, minding his own business as Jacob passed by him through the living room to the stairs.

“Some people have it so easy you fat bastard.” Jacob grunted to which Arthur popped his head up for a brief second before returning to the soaking of his paws in syliva.

Upstairs, the shower soaked Jacob’s almost anorexic, skeletal body, relaxing his muscles and causing his eyes to close from the comfort. For this brief moment every morning he thought of bliss and peace before returning to the mundane nature of his existance in the world. He knew he spent too much time in the shower. At this point though he just didn’t care.

‘Its half seven in the morning though and its time to stop procrastinating and get ready… You could always just phone in sick, its not like they could disprove it-‘

Jacob heard a strange sound that distracted him from his thought process. It was a plane engine of some kind but extremely low down. It must have been flying over the houses given how loud it was getting. Jacob’s bathroom window was creaked open and he could hear feignt screams coming from people outside in their gardens and on the streets.

Suddenly Jacob felt his entire house shudder and begin to rattle. The distant sound of cheap plates, mugs and bowls smashing over the tiles downstairs were followed by the various washing items falling off of their shelves and scattering over the bathroom floor. Arthur screeched and bounded up the strairs in to Jacob’s wardrobe as the cat often did when he was scared. Afraid of slipping and cracking his neck, Jacob quickly sat down in the bath before reaching up and turning off the shower. The shaking continued and the deafening engine growl came hurtling over head. Jacob darted over to the window, and peered out.

A few streets away the source of the noise, a huge black military cargo plane was heading for a collision. On the plane’s left side Jacob could see one of the wings burning wildly as it descended.

“Fuck me.” Jacob uttered in shock as he realized what was about to happen. He lived near the centre of town and his bathroom window had a good view of the surrounding houses, alleys and shops. The plane was on course to crash about half a mile away in to the main shopping district.

And it was going to hit any second.

Jacob saw the plane go in to the ground taking out at least a dozen houses as it slid across the ground and then…

Everything went quiet in a flash of bright light that caused Jacob to put his forearm in front of his eyes. Then out of the light came a blast wave that thundered with an explosive roar almost shattering Jacob’s ear drums. He fell back in to the bathtub as the windows to the house nearly gave in and smashed.

Jacob didn’t hear much other than screams and wails. He got out of the tub and looked out the bathroom window to see a gigantic plume of charcoal grey smoke rising from the center of town. The smoke was turning the blue sky in to darkness as it spread slowly over the area. Another explosion, although much smaller lit up a building sending debris across the horizon.

“Oh my God…” Jacob managed to stutter before rushing in to his bedroom and grabbing some clothes and neccesities. Arthur was still shaking in the wardrobe and Jacob gave the pet a quick moment of comfort before running out in to the street, his short cropped hair still drenched. There were no sirens in the distance. Just horrified residents stepping out of their doors to see what had happened. Trying to fathom out the reality of such a terrible thing happening. “So many people dead…” one woman across from Jacob cried. Many of them were complaining about the phone lines and mobile services being disabled. Jacob checked his smart phone and realized his too was unable to make calls.

NORTHERN PUNK II

RECAP: Our delightfully damaged heroine, Ivy was chilling in her apartment after a long day of hunting… something… when she over heard a group of youths causing trouble for an elderly neighbour over protection money to a local nob head called Jonjo. Deciding she would help the old geezer out Ivy grabbed her trusty yellow baseball bat, Banana and went to investigate. Oh she also has a lovely Alsatian called Ash who’s currently probably sleeping back in the apartment or doing something else thats lazy…

ACT ONE
Bad Taste In The Mouth

PART TWO
Tracksuit Warriors Are The Worst

“Soooo.” Ivy said playfully. “Come on answer me, which of you bitches wants to go first?”

“What the fuck are you on about?” The thug closest to Ivy said. “Fuck off, dyke before we bash you up n ting.”

“Dyke?” Ivy replied puzzled.

“Yeh you fuckin’ dyke piss off.”

Ivy shook her head. “I’m not a dyke. Not that that’s any of your business.”

“Whats with the hair then?” Another thug asked.

“My hair is awesome! Better than your hair you piece of shiii- you know what… now is not the time… for pettiness.” Ivy calmed herself down. “Just let the old cute guy go or i’ll bash you up innit bled.”  She smiled whilst doing a pretty bad impression of the thugs’ dialect.

The largest youth threw the old man back in to his apartment and a crash was heard.

“Hey!” Ivy barked emotionally. “Why did you do that, poor guy’s probably broken a hip now!”

“Do you know who we work for?” The large youth asked condescendingly, coming to the front of the group.

Ivy cocked her head to one side. “Is the answer Ali G, East 17, Kevin and Perry or anything else that was big in the late 90s, early 2000s?”

The thugs looked even more bewildered by her. “What?”

“Come on do you not see it? You all look like you’re on benefits, have just come back from a Manchester rave and can’t afford clothes that weren’t made almost thirty years ago.”

“Kill this bitch yeah.” The large thug grunted causally.

The other three started stalking towards her but stopped when Ivy raised her bat towards them. “You.” She said pointing Banana to the largest one still stood by the old man’s door. “Your name is Cole, yes?”

Cole nodded.

Ivy took a step forward and grinned madly. “Cole… It wont be quick when you die.”

Cole narrowed his eyes at her as the other three thugs charged. Ivy ducked below their first swings and rolled past them before rising, spinning on the spot and slamming Banana in to the closest thug’s skull. The bat brought the thug all the way in to a wall crushing his head between the yellow chrome and the brick. The thug slumped down unconcious blood leaking from his nose. Ivy then turned her attention to the frightened remaining thugs. She at first smashed the knee cap of the one on the right before dodging the attacks of the left who had produced out of his pocket a small knife. Eventually after only managing to get one slash on Ivy’s arm, the left thug got tired of swinging the knife madly and she upper cutted him so hard he nearly flew in to the roof, the knife clinging down the hallway out of reach.

With the three smaller thugs on the floor she turned to Cole and raised her bat once more. Cole stepped back, rather sheepishly and looked as if he was going to bolt. Ivy kept approaching but was hindered by the thug she had upper cutted suddenly springing up and wanting to fight some more. He rushed Ivy from behind and tackled her to the ground where they scrapped viciously before Ivy managed to use both of her bare feet to kick him off and back down the hallway. She then ran and brought the bat rapidly swinging down upon the thug’s head. She didn’t look strong but she had incredible power behind her swings, grunting with every one she took.The youth placed his arms up to protect himself and had them smashed instead, repeatedly by Ivy who continued to bring the bat down brutally upon him as he buckled to his knees, crying in agony. The youth’s arm shield eventually gave in and snapped causing Ivy to ruthlessly bring the bat down once more upon the top of his head, cracking his skull open like a watermelon.

Ivy panted and stretched her limbs letting the adrenaline cool off. She turned again to see Cole running down the other end of the corridor away from her in terror. After taking a look at the beating she had delivered to the youths, she went in to the old man’s apartment and picked him up from the rug. As she did so she noticed something in the corner of her eye. Through the window out in to the hills. Something was wrong. Silence. She opened the window and looked out to the stars yet saw nothing but black clouds. There was something on the wind. She shook an uneasy feeling of dread off and helped the old man sit in the nearest arm chair. He was still shaking and Ivy could tell he was upset by the ordeal.

“Thanks miss.” He trembled and she placed an arm around him.

“Are you okay?” She asked sincerely.

“Thanks to you I- i think i am yes…”

“What are you doing dealing with those kinds of people old man?” She asked him gently. “It’s not safe.”

“I had no choice my love.”

“Hmm?”

“Oh aye. Its this- this thug called Jonjo. He came to my corner shop about a year ago and threatened to burn it down if i didnt pay him.”

“Not go to the police old timer?”

“He said he’d kill me if i did.”

“Of course he did… here let’s get you off to bed, you must be knackered.” Ivy said helping the man to his feet. “Dont you worry about those people dude. If they come back ill sort them out.”

An hour later Ivy sat on her bed cross legged and began meditating. Preparing for the return of Cole. She knew he would come back with more men. They always did. Ash was laid beside her bed, joyfully chewing on one of her hoodies whilst she wasn’t paying attention. Her clothes were scattered everywhere most notably next to a beige rucksack that also had a makeshift holster attached to the right side for her baseball bat which was laid out before her on the bed as if she was blessing the weapon. There were no posters or trinkets to show that this was her home. There were just clothes ready to be packed in a moments notice as Ivy had been forced to do on more than one occasion. It was almost second nature to her.

As she delved deep in to her mind, relaxing her body and muscles she started to feel overwhelmingly calm. The bruise on her spine and the slash on her arm from where she had fought the youths began to heal and after a short while it was gone completely. The aches from fighting had left her body too. She opened her eyes and found hersel fully restored. Yet she looked solemnly to Ash who had half a mouthful of fabric.

“Peace never lasts ey buddy.” She sighed softly before both hers and Ash’s ears perked up simutaneously.
Out in the hall was the rumbling of feet. The thundering loud stomps got closer and closer until a banging was heard at her front door.

Ivy poked her head out of her bedroom. “Is that room service?” She asked loudly.

“Open the fucking door you slag we know youre in there!” A gruff older cockney voice bellowed. “We got your address from one of your neighbours.

“Take that as a no then.” Ivy muttered, grabbing Banana from her bed and walking in to the corridor. She closed the door behind her after telling Ash to stay put by the bed. As Ivy took a few steps towards the front door, it burst open off it’s hinges and flew towards her. She barely managed to jump backwards and avoid the door landing on her.

Standing in the door frame was a short, stocky square headed individual with scars all over his asteroid battered face. Behind him emerged a small army of goons all wielding bats, wooden planks and broken glass bottles. Ivy saw through a gap in the crowd, Cole at the back sneering.

image

“Im Jonjo.” The man at the front growled whilst raising his knuckle duster coated fists. “I heard you threatened my nephew.”

End of part two…

The Castle In The Wilds

This story is old.

On the first day…

A human, seemingly fragile and insignificant found itself entering a lonely castle in the wilds far from home. The human knew not how it had ended up in the windowless, shadow soaked, towering mass of stone and twisting maze like corridors, just that it could not find an exit no matter how thorough it had searched.

After a few hours the castle became less unfriendly to the human. The grey walls and rigid structure quickly began to feel like home as with any prison. Humans make do, adjust to your surroundings or they will kill you.

It wasnt pleasant, no but there was no concievable way out. Even though the day had been cold and confusing the human settled. Uneasily it settled.

On the second day…

After wandering the hallways of the castle for some time, the human found an ordinary window located in the highest tower and to the human’s knowledge, the window was the only one of its kind. The glass appeared to have been broken in but the human hadnt found any other of it’s kin in the castle who could have done that. Just the human on its own.

The human took a peek out in to the darkened wilds which seemed mysteriously more harsh and cruel than before especially in the deep blinding night. The human also realised at this point that it had lost track of time. The past two days had drifted away.

The human decided that it would come back on the next day at an earlier time. Perhaps then there would be a visible way out when the sun had risen over the horizon.

On the third day…

The human woke in a cramped rusty iron bed. The human didnt remember finding the bed or sleeping in it but it knew somehow that it had been uncomfortable and felt exhausted. Exhausted and alone. As the human went to get out of bed it jerked backwards, seeing glass shards covering the floor. The glass had no mouths but could talk eloquently and asked the human questions about it’s life. The human tried to respond but the jagged blades seemed to draw it in. The way they glistened without light was alluring. There was never any light in the castle, not a single beam of sunlight-

Sunlight!

The glass shards seemed to disapear at the human’s sudden desperate urge to rush out of the room and find the window. Sprinting faster than it had ever done before the human found itself in the tower moments later out of breath and panting heavily. Yet the human’s heart sank further… The sun was hidden away behind a sheet of black spotted clouds that matched the colour of the castle stone. The human looked down to the wilds only to see they had grown twice the size since it last saw them and that rain from above was now drenching them. The wilds seemed to stretch on for an eternity.

The human shrank back through the castle back towards the bedroom. As it did so it passed a peculiar looking wooden box in one of the wings. The box was finely polished and had a large hole about the same shape of the human’s arm in it. The human couldnt help but place it’s arm deep within the box, it felt natural. The human however, instantly regretted it’s decision as the box tightened its grip and seared a brand in to the human’s flesh. The human quickly ripped it’s arm from the device which vanished in the blink of an eye. The brand was a small circle on the forearm that was still smoking from the burn. The human gripped it in agony and continued on to bed.

On the fourth day…

The human woke to find the glass in it’s bed. The sheets were soaked in blood.

The human hurt all over especially on it’s brand. Alone and exhausted it curled in to a ball and found tears seeping in with the red on the pillow. It hurt.

The human didnt go back to the window that day. It stayed still and pondered letting the oily glass stay in the room with it. It pondered a lot of things that day.

Time drifted away.

On the fifth and final day…

The human, for reasons unknown to itself, was stood near the bedroom wall that was closest to the wilds. It felt a breeze coming through one of the large stone bricks that whistled lightly. It was a warm breeze and strangely familiar to the human. The human ignored the breeze though and thought of laying with the glass. The glass had hurt it though. The human cleaned the bed, neatly wrapping the glass in the bloodied sheets and placing them in the corner of the room. After it was satisfied the human put its ear to the crack in the wall.

There were two whispers on the wind.

One gentle.

Get out.

One cruel.

You cant.

The human heard a hideous screeching and banging coming from the locked bedroom door that sent a chill down it’s spine. Frightened the human darted it’s eyes over to the bundle of glass and sheets dripping with blood.

The shrieking got louder. The whispers got stronger.

The human fell to it’s knees and wept silently.

There appeared to be no end to the madness. The unholy castle bearing down upon the fragile human’s mind like the weight of a mountain.

The human wept and cackled deeply. No way out. No way home. Madness.

                                   
                                          …

Then like a miracle the walls of the castle shook violently, crumbling one by one to dust and ruin. The human fell with the rubble, terrified for it’s life. Luckily it landed in the wilds where it got to it’s feet, looking wildly for what had caused the castle to fall apart. The human searched the remains yet the fog had already soaked them leaving any sign of an answer long buried in the heaping mass.

The human turned to the wilds that were being illuminated by a slow sun rise. It stroked it’s brand and saw to it’s surprise and joy a search party of it’s kin emmerging from the bushes nearest to it. The human hugged them and told them all of the castle and it’s experience there. Bewildered yet also happy to see their friend, the other humans took our human arm in arm and lead it back home. As the human got to the exit of the wilds it let it’s brethren go forth a short while and turned back to where the castle had been. It was there once more. Rebuilt standing tall in the clearing of the wilds many miles away. The human traced it’s fingers over the brand and lowered it’s head.

Feeling uneasier than it ever had before, the human turned it’s back on the castle and ran to it’s kin.

Yet the castle once again loomed and stood tall against the sun rise.

This story is old.

YOU HAVE YOUR ANSWER

Hello

Facebook is important. Whether its a long post on opinions or just sharing photos of your dog, it’s important. That’s just how the world is now. You can deny it’s relevance, you can deny how many people use it and it’s reach until you are blue in the face, but it doesn’t make your denial true. People who complain about people complaining on Facebook should shut up. Because people complaining on Facebook shows you what people are thinking. What their opinions are. It is also a platform for education. See what you read on there might never change the world… but what it may do is educate someone, change someone’s mind. Show someone a fact. And that can lead to open mindedness.

In case you didn’t know, open mindedness is good. This is why Facebook is extremely powerful and we should never stop being key board warriors.

Now that that has been said I want to get on to my main point which is to do with the current major crisis of the world that’s on everyone’s lips.

Syria and Isis.

Understanding your enemy, knowing your enemy does not make you weak or a “sympathiser”. It makes you educated. In fact if you ignore what made your enemy and circle them as simply evil without cause, then it makes you sound stupid. With these situations its hard but we have to look past the black and white and go for the grey. Because the grey is more likely to be the inconvenient truth. I think it’s good to be able to see the other side of the coin then the one you see, just so that you can make sure you definitely know what your ideals are. I have been told things by people who are big on history and I have read in to it so I could have a better understanding. I think I am well informed but I may be wrong…

See, history is complicated. There are tonnes of factors that lead up to every decision. From making a cup of tea to going to war. It is impossible for an individual to know all of these factors because we don’t have the brain or the resources to store them and also some things are kept hidden so ill try and sound as educated as possible even though I don’t know all of the facts. I’m going to spew out a bit that I’ve learnt and no doubt will someone be able to poke flaws in me because there’s a chance I am completely wrong. But remember this is just my opinion from what I have been told/researched. I certainly don’t know everything nor am I trying to make out like I do. I just want to share my POV. The truth is that whatever I say in here is going to disagree with some of you and resonate with others. Because it is simply an opinion on the world and is neither right or wrong. Either way I feel it needs to be said and I have been wanting to say it for a while.

In the eighties the US had a cold war with Russia. When the Soviets invaded Afghanistan the US reportedly funded a group of rebels called the Al-Qaeda. Yes. THAT Al-Qaeda.

I mean it varies what info you can find but most people agree that the CIA and a few other secretive groups gave Bin Laden and his group a shit tonne (we are talking millions and millions) of money, and in some articles also apparently arms so that they could fight the Russians. After that we all kind of know what happened. The Al-Qaeda got out of control, wanted to fight “enemies of Islam” the world over. One very long and messy war later with lots of complicated bull shit and a massive loss of life in the middle and ISIS are now the new big bad. But guess where they started?

Al-Qaeda. They were a side group of that organization. What you need to understand is that some of ISIS members were created through anger and fear from watching their loved ones be killed in bombings. Whether it was US or UK originated it is still destruction. We joined the US in their war so we are partly responsible. Anyway what happens to these youngsters who lose their family and then join a terrorist group out of revenge is called radicalization. Now obviously I am not justifying any of their actions. But that’s exactly my point. Us bombing them that’s what they want. They want more innocents caught in the crossfire. They want more young children of Syria to be radicalized and turn to them for revenge. Surely it is up to us (if we are more forward thinking then them) to break that cycle?

But apparently not. David Cameron has decided to go bomb Syria in the aftermath of the tragic Paris attacks.

As I just said the exact same thing has happened before in that long messy war we talked about where thousands upon thousands of people died. Thousands upon thousands, both civilian and armed forces…. I mean I certainly remember seeing “accidental civilian losses” from bombings reported on the news when I was a kid. I even did my research and found a few links to the results of bombings, figured I would share them.

https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/news/2014/08/afghanistan-no-justice-thousands-civilians-killed-usnato-operations/

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-34437106

and I also found this article on the Iraq war… http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/10/15/iraq-death-toll_n_4102855.html

For those saying bombing places doesn’t hurt civilians because our army meticulously plans the attacks then open your eyes. In war no matter if it’s bombings/us or the enemy accidentally/purposefully shooting them, civilians ALWAYS die. Now you may say- but you don’t know that, you don’t know what will happen this time we attack somewhere…

HERE YOU GO

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-23427726

http://www.historylearningsite.co.uk/world-war-two/civilian-casualties-of-world-war-two/

This has all already happened.

War doesn’t change. The people do, the location does, the weapons do but do you want to know what the one constant of war is?

Death of innocent life.

And we did the same thing last time we went to war. Last time we decided to bomb somewhere. We said, there will be no innocent civilian casualties. There is ALWAYS civilian casualties. Always.

Prove me wrong. Find me a war where innocent civilians didn’t die.

We have been in the same cycle for over a hundred years now. And it is insane. It upsets me when I see people supporting violence. But it in all honesty it upsets me more that I do not have an alternative answer… Peace is preferred. I guess I am an idealist who believes that something else could have been done. There must have been something, I can’t think of it but there must be someone smarter than a twenty year old who can come up with something smarter than bombing. Something that doesn’t end with more of the same.

Violence does not cancel out violence. History has shown us time and time again that these kind of actions breed radicalism. I may be wrong and crude with my timeline here so please feel free to call me out on it. But the way I see it, it goes like this.

The West funded a terrorist group to fight a war for us.

The terrorist group grew and turned on the West.

The West then bombed said terrorist group, killing innocent civilians in the process and radicalising their families in to joining the terrorists.

The terrorists retaliate.

The West bombs them, create more terrorists.

The terrorists split up and come back in different sections.

We bomb them some more, create more terrorists.

What happens next? Do we fund ANOTHER terrorist group to fight ISIS, and let the cycle continue?

As much as I respect the troops and people who die for this country as much as I honour them I will not honour the people who command them. I will not honour the people who send them to war. I will not honour the fat old politicians in their ivory towers who send their young in to battle. No. Never. We are supposed to be better than this. Isn’t that right? Am I wrong in saying that? That we should aspire for better. That this world should united in it’s efforts. I’m an idiot I guess for thinking that.

That’s not the only problem though. It’s just the one every one is focused on right now… because it is so hard to keep track these days of what to be angry about. There is so much wrong with the world. So much. As a twenty year old I cant know everything. I can tell you what I see in the news on a day to day basis though.

I see parts of Africa. Where women are mutilated, raped, tortured bound in to slavery. Where children are soldiers. Where children are slaves. Where genocide is committed. Where corrupt rulers get rich whilst severe poverty sweeps a continent and diseases are rife. Where AIDS is spread like wild fire. Where Ebola outbreaks happen. Where death is at everyone’s door.

I see refugees fleeing mad men in the East and I see us abusing the refugees and blaming them for the mad men’s actions. This happened before with Jews in WWII. It happened before.

I see gender inequality across the west and the rest of Europe too. It might not compare to the horrors of the above. But it is still important and still relevant.

I see global warming being fought on a day to day basis by people with answers yet we are too set in our ways to change. Too far gone. I see beautiful animals hunted to the brink of extinction for products we can create alternatives to through minerals and plants. Not only hunted but tortured for entertainment too. I see the Earth and all it’s creatures sick from pollution and our constant need for more of its resources.

I see mass shootings almost weekly in America because they cant get their shit together. In the good ol’ US of A, I also see racism still inherent, bubbling under the surface like a vile poison. I see them forget their horrific past and leave the uneducated to be uneducated. I see a president who wants his country to be secure and I see an opposing party who want nothing more than to stop him, without cause or justification. What’s worst is I see half of that power house siding with the wrong people. Stunting it’s growth.

In my own country I see thugs attacking mosques and innocent Muslims. This is because the thugs are mindless apes with no one to tell them any different other than Britain First; another group of thugs, liars and idiots causing harm under the guise of free speech when they don’t realise that by causing harm to the general population of Islam then they are helping ISIS win. I see my FREE healthcare programme being destroyed by a man who doesn’t seem to have any reason to do it. I see the Western media spurning and egging on discrimination as if it were a sick game to them. I see fear being mongered and spread, and the fear turning us in to cowards who won’t look out for others in need. Who will post and share bull shit , made up FB status’ about the danger of Muslims when in reality ISIS and Islam are too completely different things.

The world over I see the following:

I see violence

I see racism

I see homophobia

I see sexism

I see rape

I see murder

I see poverty

I see violation of human rights

I see lies

I see corruption that we cant do anything about.

If I missed anything off that list please do let me know.

It is all I see. Anger and bitterness and hatred. I see hell. This is the world I have been given. The world I cannot change. I voted for a different party. I try and sign petitions where I can. I try and donate as much as possible to charity. It hasn’t changed my parents tell me… It hasn’t changed since they were younger. What can I do? I’m just one young person with no power to change anything. So I make a blog about the world. I make a blog and share it to my friends and acquaintances so we can feel the same thing all at once. So we small few can be unified in the knowledge that there may be too much to fix. But at least we are together on this. At least we have each other I guess and at least we can try.

But then the anger sinks in. And the inevitable question arises. Who do I and the people who think like me get mad at hmm? Who do we blame for this? This madness. This world we live in where people suffer daily and the rich get fatter and fatter and the world burns and people scream in agony. Where children drown whilst trying to flee their own country. Where people in my own country are blind and selfish to other plights and the plight of their own

Who do I get mad at?

I don’t know… It’s hard to see who’s to blame here. Maybe we all are. Maybe we were damned from the beginning.

Shall I tell you what the news has taught me? It’s taught me that this world is fucked. I am twenty and have to care for so much. There is so much wrong. So much for me to be told to handle and process and not be upset by. People wonder why I am suicidal hahaha. People wonder why I want to die.

You have your answer.

All that’s left to do is hope. Hope it gets better. Hope the world becomes a better place. There’s that lyric by the Manic Street Preachers.

If you tolerate this then your children will be next.

I find comfort in knowing deep down that the majority of this species are good and think straight. I know the good are greater in number than the bad. I know the media makes the world seem far worst than it is. But it worries me that the straight thinking people aren’t the ones who will win in the end.

It worries me.

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