JB's Guide To Insanity

We Are All Flawed

Mental Health Awareness Week

I will try to keep this short but sweet.

It is mental health awareness week and i just wanted to put some words out. I havent done a blog post about my issues since Feb as i haven’t really known what to say. Not that there haven’t been issues to talk about. There has been a lot going on that i could have written about on here. However, sometimes you can say all you have to say on a subject, even if it is one very personal to you that effects not only yourself but many of your loved ones too.

Why this week is important though is because it shows the world is getting more open minded. The fact that a week is dedicated to spreading awareness of mental health issues is a sign of the times. And also a sign of hope.

I originally had a few more paragraphs written here that i deleted. In them i criticized the people who still believe that mental health problems are made up. It was quite agressive but then i realized that to me this week isnt really about anger at ignorance. To me this week is about helping those in silence and letting them know they arent alone.

Some may wonder why those words “you are not alone” are said so much on these kinds of things. Its because mental health problems create a very lonely existance for the person suffering from them. And a constant reminder of people not being alone never hurt.

So try and be kind and open minded. It doesnt take much to be compassionate or demonstrate tolerance and understanding. If someone you know is going through something then be respectful and remember that they  have no control over it and believe me they wish they did.

Like think about it this way, you wouldnt get mad at someone for getting a sickness bug or a cold, would you? You wouldnt say “just be positive or just dont think about it and you wont have to deal with it anymore”. So why get mad and say that to someone who goes through things far worst in their head on their own every day that they have no control over.

This week to me is about love and care. The two things that make humans human. So just love and care. Its not that hard.

Stay safe people. Keep fighting. You are the strongest people in this world no matter what you think or are told. I know its hard but you can do this 🙂





Part Two:

At the end of a street in one of the darkest corners of Mi Kin it sits peacefully as if the troubles of this world refuse to touch it. It’s quaint and decorated like it should be in the Empire, with gold and crimson paint that lavishes the entire store front, and a sign that reads out in black bold letters-

EST. 1803

It’s quite something to behold. Inside trinkets and various tea flavours are stacked up against the walls. I doubt even Lady knows how many types of tea are in her shop. Lady herself is a small, elderly hunched woman who resembles a witch from the European fairy tales. She’s got a heart of gold though and as soon as I arrive she hobbles out from behind her desk, smiling with those big damaged teeth and gives me a hug. She smells of spices. Always of spices.

“Lady.” I nod at her and she goes in to the back to fix my usual.

I take a seat near the front window looking out in to the street. The shop is empty. I told her the night before to make sure it was cleared out by the time I got there. Once she returns she has in her hands a cup of Indian brew, with a hint of cinnamon. Delicious. The fumes calm me. My last. I motion for her to sit across from me and she does so.

“Mr Penn, how are you today?” She asks, still smiling.

“I’m fine thank you, Lady.” I take another sip. It warms me.

“So, why this meeting? Did you finally want me to send a letter to my neice, oh Mr Penn she would be so lovely for you!”

“No, my dear. As exquisite as I’m sure your niece is, I’m here on business.”

She looks confused. “Oh?”

“Yes. Final business, to be exact.”

“Are you in trouble?” She asks me, clearly concerned with my well being.

“Not yet. I will be though. And I need to ask a favour of you. The favour.”

She leans back in her chair. “Go on.” She says directly.

I don’t speak and simply take out the bag of seventy gold pieces from my belt. I slide it across the table and she slowly unravels the string on the bag. Once she looks inside her mouth drops open.

“I wish to buy this establishment from you. For a profit of course. I can imagine your family got this place for what? Twenty silver Yuan?”

She nods. I doubt she has ever seen so much money in her life.

“That much gold should buy you a new and good life some where else Lady. Take it to your niece in Hong Lin if you have to. Just leave this place. For it is to be ruin.”

She doesn’t know what to say.

“Lady, you have been ever so kind to me over these long, long years. Like a second mother you’ve cared for me, offered me a place to relax from the storm. And I owe you all the gold in this city. That however, is all I have. I would like it to be spent wisely and with good intent.”

“My dear boy.” She mutters. “What have you done to show such kindness?”

Her words strike me more than I’d care to show.

I don’t reply and shoot her a slight reassuring smile. “Just please, take this. It’s the least I can do for you.”

She gradually comes to terms with it and places the money bag in to one of her dress pockets. “Penn-” She goes to say but I hold my hand up stopping her.

“No need for good byes Lady. Be on your way now.” I order. “They will be here any minute.”

“Any minute?”

I look sternly at her. “Please.”

She smiles nervously and then stands, shuffling over to the back room. Minutes later she comes out with a sack of personal belongings and safe keeps. Lady stops as she gets to the door. I half expect her to turn to me but none the less she does not and leaves her little tea house for good. I look out the window and watch her clear the street just as representative of the Fěicuì lóng, Mao appears on the murky horizon.

Just on time.


Part One:

December 5th, 1892.

The streets of Mi Kin city, China.

This is where It will end.

You need to know this place before we proceed.

What hits you first and stays with you at all times is the Incense and factory smoke that fill the air and force you to feel their vapours getting in to every inch and pore of your skin. It’s thick and it covers the streets in a disorientating wave  that can over power the uninitiated. From the ram shackle wooden houses and shops, hang tattered and aged black and red paper lanterns dangling amongst dim orange lamp lights and luminous welcome signs. The black lanterns are in memory of the Emperor’s dead son, Zi Kun-

“Gone so young, claimed by the plague. Not just him though, half the city fell to it Penn! Half the city! Thank the Gods for the Yilao Medical Corps, without them you would have returned to a tomb.” Was what Lady told me with a heavy heart when I returned from the war. She was unaware I had lost my mother and brother in that plague but how was she to know.

The buildings are compact, have three floors and rise up high to pack in their many residents. This makes narrow alleys in every gap available, perfect for criminals and prostitutes to skulk around in and hassle visitors and foreigners.

This city is loud and alive. It roars spite and corruption. There is no escape. There is no freedom. It’s citizens are trapped until death, to slave and sweat and fuck and duplicate and repeat. No wonder the royals refuse to even acknowledge it in their decadal tour of the Empire.

Wild animals also run through the streets. From chickens, dogs and cats, to pigs, peacocks and even donkeys. Min Kin has it’s own animal kingdom. They usually stay out of our way though-

“After all, Mi Kin does belong to man… And in turn, man belongs to the Fěicuì lóng… The Emerald Dragons.”

Everything in turn, belongs to the Fěicuì lóng…

My name is Li Penn. Through these streets I walk. By it’s own nature, my stride is confident and precise. As I turn the corners and traverse the seemingly endless maze of food vendors and counterfeit goods market stalls, the commoners notice me and begin to tidy away their messes and filth. Hushed whispers begin spreading to their children to rush inside and stop their playing, to escape the gaze of the man they all fear.

And fear I suppose, they should.

To them I am a man of great stature. To them the piss and dirt filled gutters that are on almost every street corner should try to make the effort to look presentable to me.

I was born here and raised amongst these people and now I am above them. That used to fill me with pride and now it fills me with shame. I have worked for the Fěicuì lóng since I was eight, from the lowest level of petty hustler to the elite level of Left Hand. Once I wore rags now I wear a black suit blazer, vest and trousers that fit my thin body perfectly, with shoes I can afford to be polished twice a day. My white mandarin collar shirt is always fixed where it should be; to the top and my black bracers are clipped over it keeping my trousers in position. A black bowler hat sits over my slicked back jet coloured hair and never moves unless I am bowing to a lady of importance of course.

Mother always did teach me to be polite to women.

I check the golden pocket watch which is tightly tied to my belt. It’s twelve o’clock, almost time for me to go to Lady’s. I have some business to attend to first, and keep moving through the streets. I take out my box of matches and a cigarette from my breast pocket and light it up. Smoking clears my mind. Helps my nerves.

I have a right to be nervous.

By the time today is through, I predict half this district will be in flames.

“Mr Penn!” Jian-heng suddenly calls out to me from his grime coated bakery, causing me to nearly drop my cigarette and pull out my six shot revolver to blast him away. I restrain my trigger finger and notice the smell of rotten pastries lingering out the side of the building as I enter reluctantly.

“Make it quick.” I order, calming my nerves. Truth be told, the distraction is useful. Jian-heng is a small rotund man in chef’s garb. He’s dimwitted and blind as a mole but he can cook a good meal. It’s also a shame about his hygiene or lack there of especially when It comes to his business.

“Mr Penn, awfully sorry to bother you.” He stutters. “I’ve been waiting for an hour for you to come around-”

“You have?”

“Yes. I know this is the time of day on a Friday you usually do your rounds and check up on the Captain so, I was wondering if I could pass on some news to you regarding some neighbourhood disturbances.”

“Go on.” I sigh.

“Well- It is a little tricky…”

“Jian my time is incredibly valuable as of late and it does not need to be wasted on dramatics, please do get to the point.”

He goes red from embarrassment. I had to scold him otherwise he would have took all day to spit out whatever information he has.

“Ah yes, sorry sorry.” He says to me clearly upset at his behaviour. “I recently noticed some men hassling Miss Lao. Do you know of Miss Lao?”

Do I know of Miss Lao. Of course I know of Miss Lao. She is one of the most attractive bits of skirt on this whole street who might I add, has laid with me numerous times.

“The dancer at Ruby’s, yes I know of her do go on.” I reply stroking my chin and taking another drag on my cigarette.

“Well yes the men were demanding money from her. I heard something about, if she didn’t pay up by the festival of the Dragon on Monday eve then they would… Well you could imagine the threats of vagrants Mr Penn. They are the cancer of this city.”

I place a hand on the baker’s shoulder and smile half heartedly. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention Jian, it will be looked in to as soon as time permits.”

He smiles back as if my courteous nature is a gift from the Gods themselves. I place a bronze Yuan in his palm as I shake his hand as payment for the information. You have to give a little to get a little.

This would actually be interesting if I didn’t know what today was going to bring. We get paid to keep rabble like vagrants where they belong; in the sewers. In this city there is a difference between the homeless and the vagrants. The homeless did not choose their situation whilst the vagrants are rabid and viscous rapists, thieves and murderers who dwell and thrive in the bowel of this place. They simply have no class. They don’t even have homes like most criminals or beds to sleep in.

For them to actually dare to come out in to the light and demand payment, probably means one of our organization is on some form of take from them and is looking the other way. Which leads to the theory that if they have enough money to put someone on the take then they probably have enough money to have built a small army under ground.

This may come in useful later. I exit the bakery and continue on my way to the Captain’s house. It creates a dead end around one of the alleyways and is crawling with young gang members. The house is guarded by Red Dog, the Captain’s chief body guard who’s greeting I ignore as I enter.

The captain’s not a nice man but he’s good at collecting pay around these streets from the lower level gang leaders, and he keeps order when it needs to be kept. My main problem with him is he likes to rough up women. That’s why today is going to be quite enjoyable for me. See, he went too far the previous night and cracked a whore’s jaw at the brothel, Rubies. Safe to say that the girl will be out of service for a long time to come.

“This reflects badly on me.” I tell him once I am sat across from him at his desk on the top floor. I have the window to my back looking out to the street below.

He is lanky and ugly, wearing a makeshift maroon suit that he thinks makes him look smart. It doesn’t.

“What does?” He says, his voice as coarse as stone as he places his hands on to the creaky wood table that separates us. This room is practically empty apart from the two chairs and the table. It’s the Captains supposed business room.

I light another cigarette and he does the same. His men are downstairs getting intoxicated whilst we conduct our dealings. I stare at him for a moment in unflinching dominance so he understands that I am not here to play any games.

“Fine.” He backs down. “I went too far with the slut-”

“Excuse me?” I say to him leaning forward, looking stern. The Captain shouldn’t have called her that.

“The slut who I beat. I shouldn’t have hit her that hard it wasn’t right-”

“Listen to me and listen good. You have lost the right to call that woman anything derogatory. Not even whore. You tell me her name. Her real name. You know it, so tell it to me. And I swear to the Gods if I hear you call her slut once more…”

He looks lost for words like a little rodent caught in the path of a predator twice it’s size.

“I don’t remember-” His pride is getting the better of him.

“Captain, If you make me repeat myself one more time I will throw you from that window.”

“Mia Xiao.” He mutters. “Her name was Mia Xiao.”

“Good.” I lean back and take another drag. “You have the weeks collection for me?”

He reaches under the table and without effort unfastens a bag strapped to it. Sliding the bag across the table towards me, I stop it with my right hand. It feels a little lighter than usual.

It doesn’t matter.

“Boss I actually wanted to talk to you about someth-”

“Bao.” I interrupt him with his birth name, calmly. He doesn’t expect it and it throws him off. No one has called him that in years, he’s thinking about what to say, how to come back at me, I can see the cogs in his mind trying to process it.

It doesn’t matter.

“I-” He stutters.

“Bao. This is the end of our professional relationship. Recently I had a… Well. The specifics will not trouble your little mind so, I’ll save you that long and I’m sure tedious explanation. You are going to be my-” I sit forward. “Kindling of sorts.”

He looks horrified. Good. “Excuse me?” He asks timidly.

“Kindling. You know what this is?” I am purposefully patronizing.

He nods and gulps at the same time. “Yes.”

“I’m going to burn you.” I tell him this calmly, leaning back again and taking a drag.

After a few tense moments he bursts from his chair and leaps to the other side of the room. He grabs a gun from beneath a crate and aims it at my head but I am quicker and already have my golden dragon decorated shooter aimed at him from my lap. One shot rings out and it splatters the Captain’s brains all over the walls. He falls back and cracks his head on the floor boards.

I don’t move yet. I can hear the Captain’s men charging up the stairs rapidly, their footsteps beating against the worn steps. They are shouting at each other aggressively.

I aim my gun at the door with a steady hand.

Seconds later the first breaks through and he gets a bullet in his throat.
The second comes in straight after and his forehead is taken out.
The third gets it in the heart.
The fourth and fifth are too high to even have their knives out. Two more shots later and they roll back down the stairs, blood leaking from the holes in their heads.

Out of bullets now. And I hear the door man enter and begin moving heavy footed through the house. No time for reloading. I’m going to have to take Red Dog out with my hands. Now I stand, place my gun on the table and quickly analyse the situation.

Switch blade on my belt. I un-clip it and click the button so that the knife edge springs out. Holding it down by my side I do one more quick scan.

If it comes down to it I could possibly use the butt of the gun although, I know Red Dog, I grew up with him. He’s a prize fighter, the butt of a gun would be like hitting a boulder with a chop stick.

The giant of a man, bull rushes in and almost trips over the corpse pile of his friends. He looks at them and then up at me, clearly distraught.

“Mr Penn?” He grunts before his face goes red with pure rage. He screams and runs at me but I turn on my heel at the last second and slash his face. He slams in to the table and I bring the knife down on the back of his head.

It’s safe to say Red Dog’s fighting speed has improved greatly since I last watched him in the cage. He manages to send an arm flying and whack the blade out of my hand before it sticks in his skull. I instantly grab the gun with my other free hand and crack it across the man’s cheek as he rises up. It hardly affects him so I swing the gun again this time almost breaking the handle off.

Red Dog still doesn’t go down.

He punches me and almost knocks out a tooth. I quickly recover and land a fist in his throat. He splutters and stumbles back and I take advantage of this by spearing him in to a wall. He slams his head back on the wall and I place my palm over his face.

After I repeatedly bash his skull against the wall, Red Dog slumps down leaving the contents of his head all over the bricks above him.

I have some of his brain matter splashed on my hands. I wash it off in the sink before I exit the house. Other than seeing Lady, there’s no reason to really clean my hands… They are going to get plenty more bloody before the day is through. A local young gang member I don’t recognise, runs over to me and asks what happened.

“You do me a favour boy.” I tell him handing him a silver Yen. “Go inside to the top floor. Then once you have had a good look around I want you to head over to the Dragons, you know where they are?”

He nods.

“Good. Tell them exactly what and who you saw here today. You know my name?”

He nods once more.

“Of course you do. Tell them I will be at Lady’s within the hour and they can find me there.”

He doesn’t respond but heads in side apprehensively. I watch him go and then leave the area quickly, making my way to the Tea House.

Preparations need to be made.


I must confess, I cannot possibly forsee a pleasant ending.

Bad Taste In The Mouth

The Food Chain

Blazing heat and golden light baked the seemingly endless yellow fields of hay in a dizzying haze of feverous humidity and warm tranquility. Some days under the orange tinged blue skies, even the birds and insects would stop their mutterings to revel in the vunrable peace which lingered over those lost lands. Hidden behind dense woodlands, the fields were known to few however, one ten year old girl walked and found solace in them more than anyone throughout history. Her name was Ivy and to her those were the best days of her life… And to her they were also the last days of her innocence.

That early summer spent wandering and relaxing aimlessly, drifted in and out of the girl’s dreams and nightmares frequently as she grew through eleven years of torturous metamorphisis and finally in to a woman.

Ivy, 21 years old

One such dream clung to Ivy’s memory as she jerked awake up right on the floor of her cheap low rent apartment, located half way up a council flat block on the outskirts of London. She deeply inhaled the dusty morning air of the living room as she jumped up to her feet, regaining her barings.

Ivy couldn’t remember the night before and was confused by why she was in the middle of her living room and not in her bed. More confusing was the state of her surroundings. The balcony windows were broken open and the pale early sun rise was gleaming through the flickering tattered curtains. The place had been trashed completely, shrapnel from the window doors littered across the carpet, the sofa overturned, the tv smashed on its side. It was lucky she hadn’t cut herself on the amount of shards and bled out, she thought whilst stumbling to the fridge and retrieving a half drunk carton of milk. Gulping the cold refreshing milk down calmed Ivy’s fast beating heart and she placed it down upon the marble counter nearby. A scratching and a whining suddenly came from the other side of the closed door to her bedroom out in the hallway and her eyes widened to the size of the moon.

Cursing under her breath at herself, she rushed round the corner to the door and flung it open only to be jumped on and pinned to the other side of the corridor by a large golden and black furred Alsatian dog standing on his hind legs. His tongue panting between licking Ivy’s face, his tail wagging in pure joy and his almond eyes wide and glistening at the sight of her.

“Aw I’m sorry Ash, I love you too buddy, yes i do!” She smothered him for a while in hugs and affection before pushing him off of her and rushing back to the kitchen where his dog bowls were. After giving him breakfast and water she let him out of the apartment so he could go outside and do his business. The doors to the block were easily pushed open from a low level and had almost no security measures in place. Plus Ash was a very smart creature who had proven to Ivy on many occasions that he was capable of handling any trouble.


Ivy looked over her cheap apartment that had been made even cheaper. She hadn’t noticed it before but there were multiple holes in the walls which were about the same size of an average man’s head and blood was dried around the jagged edges. Staring in to the holes flooded Ivy’s head with the events of the night before and she stumbled back against the wall gripping her forehead in pain.


An exhausted Ivy was leaning on the balcony of the apartment, dressed in a flimsy tight black onesie, smoking a cigarette and rubbing her free hand through her thick and unkempt bright pink hair. Ash was curled up asleep on the sofa as he was one to do being a very lazy dog at times. Ivy however, had only just finished washing her face, taking out her piercings and wiping the lightly applied make up from her soft fair skin and it was fast approaching eleven at night. It had been a long day’s work and she was ready to relax and unwind in her temporary accomodation with a bottle of wine and a cheap 80s action film called I Now Pronounce You Dead that she had bought on dvd on the way back to the flat. London was too big for her although she liked the fact that cities could lose people within their concrete mazes. London was the most complex maze of all. There across a hill or two and a small park on the horizon were the towering glittering lights of only part of it. It seemed so alive and noisy, constantly buzzing and shining. Her work here was still not complete though and she had at least another weeks worth of hunting ahead of her. As Ivy flicked her cigarette butt out of the balcony and walked back in to the living room, she heard the feignt banging on a door in her level of the block. She ignored this at first but it persisted and was then followed by four young thug like voices chirping over eachother. It was mostly incomprehensible but she managed to work out a few words…

“Open the fuckin’ door or we will kick it down you old fuckin’ mug!”

Ivy sighed and closed her eyes. Even Ash had woken awkwardly from his bear like slumber and had his ears perked up, head cocked towards the door.

“You’re not getting involved, you’re not getting involved-” Ivy whispered over and over to herself. The more she did though the more she thought about it and the more she thought about it the more accute her hearing became to situation.

The door the youths were banging on creaked open and a fifth voice stung in her ears.

“Eh? What- what is it?” An old man stuttered feebily from behind the door.

“Oh not a sweet old person…” Ivy groaned, eyes still shut.

“You know why we are here old man.” One thug continued. “Jonjo wants his money.”

“But b-but i’ve already paid him-”

“Not enough! He wants more. He’s thinking an extra five hundred should cover all expenses ey?”

“But i don’t have any more, i’ve given him all I’ve got- i swear to you. I’m barely making a profit on the shop as it is. He said- he said that the price would be-”

“We know what he said. And now he’s saying different. You can either comply and give us the money or we can break in smash your legs like glass and then burn your fuckin’ shop down!” The thug screamed.

Ivy felt her fists clench automatically.

“But i swear-” the old man’s voice was wobbling. Ivy could tell he was crying in fear. “-I don’t have any more money to give.”

“See… we were kind of hoping you’d say that.” Another thug said. “Cole smash down the door.”

Finally Ivy’s eyes prized open and she took a deep breath. She quickly ran in to her messy room and retrieved her trusty yellow chrome baseball bat, Banana and exited the apartment. Sprinting round the corners she followed the sound of  the largest thug slamming his shoulder in to the door. Eyes focused, brow furrowed Ivy ran gently yet swift like a samurai, Banana’s scuffed edge dragging across the metal floor so all could hear it screeching.


The few other people living in the apartments who had opened their doors to get a peek of the thugs began to lock up at the sight of Ivy darting by and turning the corners.

She heard the door break open as she turned the last corner and found three of the four teen tracksuit warriors about to enter.

“Oi!” Ivy shouted at them as she came to a halt around ten ft away from them. The thugs stopped and turned to her with confusion spread across their rough faces. They might as well have been clones of each other, all 18 and wearing the same grotty 90s chav style, complete with the occasional gold tooth and fake diamond stud piercings. They were big and burly. She had fought worst though. The fourth and biggest thug exited the apartment carrying the old man by the scruff of the neck. The old man was small and wizened, wearing blue and white striped pyjamas, retro shining spectacles and a night cap that matched the pyjamas. Fluffy black slippers were dangling off of his tiny feet as he was held up by the thug.

“Aw he is just as old and adorable as i thought he was going to be!” Ivy cooed softly before remembering the situation she was in. She got back in to her samurai like stance and put her serious face back on. “Who wants to go first then?”

End of part one…


It was a long fucking January…

…But so far its been a good fucking February.

LET ME EXPLAIN. Also strap the fuck in because i have read this back and its a bit long so stay with me. THERE IS A POINT TO THIS.


You know one of the main problems l get with being a depressive? It is sometimes hard to get my story straight. One minute im somewhere in the ballpark of okay the next im spiralling out of control with no way of stopping myself.

Bad me has his hand around my throat…

It can cause difficulties especially in my social and work life. I cant always tell someone i am one thing, because i can flip throughout the day. Literally it can be hour by hour and this is how i am when i am not just completely taken over by it. Its harder when people dont understand but im lucky to have a great work team who fully support me and know its out of my control. But still days sometimes go by without me having an answer to the question “are you okay?”. Despite that though, something new and good came in to my life and for the sake of that i was kinda managing it through Jan.

Key word is that i was managing it.

See I tend to get overwhelmed easily. As i said, It was going pretty good after i had clawed my way out of the worst depression episode i have ever experienced however, i had suddenly a bunch of shit to deal with. Aside from the good people and the positive things in my life there seemed to be a lot of pressure building on me. I wont go in to it too much but i was under quite a bit of stress-


– and that combined with a really bad cold (ooh sniffles), caused me to have a flare up of my Crohns.

Now, I dont talk about my Crohns much as it’s something i’ve been managing (as much as it drains and hurts me i would say it’s usually under control which is lucky for someone with the condition) for a while now. My depression isnt helped by it but i class that as just one cause in a list of many that lead me to become so low. I feel like i can talk about my depression better than my Crohns because it effects me far more than my Crohns does.

Anyway! Three weeks ago i had the Crohns flare. I almost passed out (bit of a blur) a few times at work, with me eventually ending up in hospital until the early hours of the morning. It was very draining and upsetting and i still havent really got over the lack of sleep, or rather gotten over the lack of sleep ive had since i was eighteen.


Me kind of at my worst stage after hospital looking sexy but still like shit.



Stomach pain.
Body aches, and i mean the type that you cant move from.
Bleeding out my ass (sorry if you reading this over breakfast).

All at once. Usually my Crohns just cherry picks them on a daily basis but this was the whole shabang.

So! Day to day i see my body working at half capacity 50%.

When its a flare up or my depression swamps me 25% or lower depending on whether or not im in hospital.

As someone who has lived without the conditions and knows what its like to feel 100% i know that i can never get back to being that healthy or functioning physical wise again. I also know that 100% is definitely a thing and that a lot of you reading this will feel on top of your game right now.

One of the keys to understanding a chronic illness is knowing that people like me wont ever be like that physically. Mentally yes we can be if we keep fighting! But not physically unless they find a cure which fingers crossed they might do one day.

As stated mental wise im tip top right now but with the body the best i can do is a solid 75% and thats on the rarest of days when im storming in to life and grabbing it by the balls (translates as when ive eaten properly and luckily avoided anything that might set it off).

If that whole percentage thing helps you understand living with autoimmune diseases/depression a little better, then im glad.

Havent felt so physically bad in a while so was a bit of a shock to the system. The problem i was having is that they had put me on steroids which were effecting my depression quite badly the first week or two. Epic mood swings that left me suicidal and feeling sick. Im still on them but my dosage is being lowered week by week until the beginning of march when i can come off them and theyve actually made me feel a lot better both mentally and physically. Still getting fatigued easy as shit and i do have to keep taking it steady as proved by the other day when i had to go home from work because i was so knackered.

But that was one day. Aside from that i was coming in to work more positive then i have been in i would say a year and im glad to announce that



YUP!!!! ✋✋✋🎈👍👍👍🎂👌👌👌🎉


Well i have been suicidal once or twice but not as it has been in the past. Ive actually been doing really well mentally, despite the odd hiccup. Creatively im back on track which i havent been in so long, ive organized myself and built mental walls. Its good and ill explain in another post. Not out of the woods yet but its better than it was and thats a start 🙂

Back on to crohns though…

I have been on steroids once before a long time ago for about a week or two but they made me really sick so i asked to be taken off them. It’ll take my body some time to get back to full working order but for now im pretty steady. I am kind of lucky to be only on a five week course because some people have to go on them for a lot longer periods.


                 I got some take away 😉

I told you THERE IS A POINT TO THIS BLOG POST and its here.

Mis quoting Batman Begins:

“why do we fall?”
“So we can learn to pick ourselves up.”

I picked myself up from the rubble. I and the safety net of mine (along with all this medication) brought me back to the land of the living. Im more focused on whats important now than i ever have been. Just because steroids didnt work once doesnt mean they didnt work this time. Have to keep trying things to heal yourself.

I have like two different audiences here so let me try and address you both.

To my non depressed peeps:
Some of you may think that two weeks isnt that long to go without being suicidal. Thats because you dont have to fight your own brain every day. Not your fault but try and see it as that. Someone whos fought off their own fucking brain. Imagine your brain being your enemy not something you just use to decide what socks youre going to wear in the morning. Sounds pretty dangerous dont it? Also i know most of you are but be kind. Try and be understanding. You have no idea how much your understanding helps.

To my depressed and faulty diamonds in black and white:

We fall so we can get back up even stronger. I make it sound like i got lucky i know what youre thinking because i would think that too. Its not something you can just snap out of. Its not something you can just cure. Its something that pummels us. But we dont ever let it kill us.

To those of you who can go a day or even an hour without being suicidal that is a fucking achievement and you are winning already. Dont for a second think you aint. Youre still here which makes you stronger than most of the people around you.

You have to always keep fighting (akf). Always. No matter what, you need to keep scrapping because one day it will be warm and safe and nothing will hurt anymore and more importantly it will be that way and you will be ALIVE. Im not fine im far from it but im better than i was and this fall has shown me how to keep myself safe. I can do this. You can do this. There is literally so much to life and this is actualy me talking, not depressed me. I have been and no doubt will be again on both sides of this fence. Mentally i have been the lowest that you can be without being physically dead. Its fucking horrible and hard and frightening but once you find that thing that brings you back then you will realize life is worth it. And that thing will be out there. Its okay to be depressed its okay to be sad. But you have to keep fighting for your life. Because i assure you it is vastly more important than you think it is in this moment.

We are all diamonds inside. Please see that you are one too or just see how others see you. My friend told me that a diamond is a diamond because it has no self worth, It is valued by others. He said that i cant ever see my self as a diamond because i think everyone else is far more important. But i had no idea how highly this family of mine thought of me and chances are neither will you.

If said others around you are negative and dragging you down then do your best to get out of there. Bad things come to bad people eventually and those that hurt you will put themselves in to misery. Find the good because they are out there. I was lost for a very long time until i found my people.

Its not easy i know, but im just asking that if you read this and are depressed or going through a flare up of a disease dont quit. Keep fighting because you are so fucking strong. Youre a boss like me. Keep fucking shit up. You will get there in the end and it will be so worth it.

You Batman.

We Batman.

Stay safe, stay strong and akf bitches. You got this. We got this. My favourite comic is Calvin & Hobbes. It got me through a lot when i was younger and is just genius. Think this kinda is relevant right now for whoevers reading.


Its not always going to be good. But its not always going to be bad either. ✌


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-


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.

2015 Was A Bag Of Dicks


I literally had the worst christmas day and week of my life. And yesterday it culminated in me being lower than i have ever been before. Ive never been so lost. For those who read my blogs youll know that each time my brain attacks me it gets stronger and stronger. That was literally the hardest ive ever had to fight in my life, and looking back on yesterday i cant believe how close i got to the edge. And you know, if it wasnt for a few select people in my life i wouldnt be here right now. I have the bestest friends in the world and i am the luckiest person to have them.

There’s a quote by aristotle that i learnt from reading Batman comics lol. It’s “what is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies”. Its true when you think about it. I dont often take on best friends that i love this deeply. Its hard for me to completely connect with people around me because i dont want to expose them to this. I have best friends but there are people in my life (as in everyones life) who i trust completely and will always open up to because i connect with them beyond friendship. I gained two more last night. I consider them blood, more like soulmates.

I dont usually end up at that point where i need saving. Its rare because i can usually fight it off on my own. So it has left me shaken and worried for what happens next time. I almost did it. Now theres a difference between almost ending it and thinking about ending it. Both are horrible. But almost ending it is where you have nothing left of you anymore. Its just the black poison in you at the wheel. It wasnt me in control so i am very worried. It was scary. The other me had its hand around my brain and wouldnt let go. Dunno what happened to get me out of it whether it was me breaking through a wall from exhaustion or just the help i had. But the thought of those friends makes me stronger. It lifts me up.

When you are from a dysfunctional home and you have physical and mental issues and not to mention those cheeky regrets, life can be very difficult at christmas time. It can be pressured on people to be happy just because its a season for people with no bullshit to be happy. I usually am happy on christmas. Usually… but not gonna lie this year has made the Grinch (at the beginning of the film) my idol.

Its been a wank year. And sticking with the Grinch analogy i still havent found my Whoville to bring me out of this slump. But ive got two families who love me. The one i was born with and the one ive chosen. Both might have their problems but both are what i have to live for. As a person with no self worth, who loathes himself entirely, its easy for me to fall in to the pit. But ive got people who build me up and keep me safe and warm and strong. Im not entirely free and, still shaking, its baby steps until ive recovered. And ill have to watch out for the other me sneaking up on me like this again, the absolute bastard… Baby steps!

I wanna thank some people for being here for me and in no particular order;

My mum, my brother Chris and my cousin Megan (birth family obviously)

And my chosen family;

And introducing Kym and Cat.

I love you all to the moon and back.

All my other best friends know what they mean to me too and i love you guys more than i can say, its just the above have been the ones to save me on a regular basis cos theyve been exposed to it more unfortunately for them haha.

Point is its been horrible. Next year is probably going to be bizzarre and shit and probably more of the same nonsense. But a lot of chess pieces are moving about, and for the first time im actually kinda sorta excited. None of this new year new me bullshit, nah im gonna be the same messed up freak ive been for a while. But i feel like some things are just beginning to start and are going to grow in to hopefully better things.

You can always have hope.

We never know how a year is going to turn out until we get to the end of it. I can safely look back at this year and say  that was a bag of fucking shit and im glad to be rid of it. Cant even express how shit its been, probably the toughest year of my life. Ive self harmed, nearly ended it a dozen times.

But i have those special few to hold on to because they build me up. If anything will get me through 2016 its the same thing that got me through 2015. My family and my friends.

Stay strong and keep safe people. If youre in the same position as me, remember that reaching out for help is the best thing you can do. If you dont have a support network then find one, there is always someone and somewhere you can go that is not a grave. Theres always hope. That person telling you to die isnt you. Its a disease that you can beat and that you will beat because youre a strong lil bastard even if i dont know you. Trust famalams. Im weak as shit and if i can do this then so can you.

Have a lovely new year




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.

and I also found this article on the Iraq war…

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…


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.

Tired Boy

Warning: may cause triggers so please dont read if you have self harmed before and are at risk of doing it again.

It gets harder and harder to talk about you know. I wish i was normal. I wish i could keep this up. I wish it didnt hurt every day. I wish i had the energy or the will to do this blog weekly but i just dont. Dont want to bore you, dont feel like whoever you are wants to read it. I get fucking bored of having to listen to this thought train every single day so i cant imagine what a weekly blog would look like. Fuck that. And as far as short stories go, lets put a hold on that too. Well’s run dry for now im afraid. Maybe some day, maybe not.

I mean to get myself through every day is a struggle that the adults didnt warn me about when i was younger… Cos im running on empty, stuck between the want to give up and the want to stay. I dont have it in me to end it physically but mentally ive done it so many times. That constant battle can tire someone. Besides its not like ive just hurt myself mentally. I cut myself and it wasnt the best idea… Hurt. But in all honesty it didnt hurt as much as i wanted it to. I wanted to feel something, i wanted to feel like i wasnt here. Like it was something different happening to me. Like it was a way out. It wasnt. It never is i guess.

“The hardest thing about this world is living in it”. Lovely.

It happened about two months ago now i guess, and the scars are still there. It itches sometimes too, especially when i think about it. Maybe thats just a mental thing i dunno. Dont ask me why i did it. It just happened. One minute i was miserable the next i was bleeding. Didnt cry didnt speak. I just let it happen. That night i revealed all to my best friends. They were there for me as they are and i havent done it since. But i cant shake something. I mean this fall started after my climb. I was doing so well when i started this blog and then…  I was not even at square one i was somewhere (still am somewhere) deeper than ive ever been before. And for all this time ive not been able to shake the feeling that it would be better if i could of just carried on not feeling anything. Cos feeling hurts. Hurts more than any physical pain could. Hurts so much i want to cry all the time but just cant seem to get the tears out. Yeah that heart mind and gut all churning and ripping themselves apart.

It hurts so much.

I dont understand how people do this. Get through it. Fight. Id rather just be a blank slate, not feeling at all and getting on with my life. Another drone. Either that or dead. Think maybe i was cursed with being too involved too emotional. Guess im like a broken toy in that way. Wind me up and watch me fall over.

Mind you sometimes broken toys can be the funnest ones. Unpredictable especially when they fall apart on you without you expecting. Least its interesting and not the same old.

Point of this post is that my future on here is unclear. Its a dark one. A real dark one im talking voldemort attacking Hogwartz dark yo. But i think i have enough to support me i just dont think ive got enough of me to support this. So thank you for all your kind words about my blog. It was nice whilst it lasted. I guess i cant connect with you right now which sucks and burns me cos i really love hearing feedback and having people comment on my posts. It means the world to me how many of you have done.

I may come back to it when i get some things sorted in December or later this month but we will have to see.  Depends on whether i have anything positive to say because right now im no help to anyone, i just dont care about life so how can i tell other people to, yano? So for now im going. If i helped anyone in this brief time then thats more than i could have hoped for.

Bye for now, please try to stay stronger and braver than i am and thank you


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