Together we stand; divided we fall.

It’s February, I’m currently wondering what on earth happened to the Kerrang! channel while it plays Babymetal and procrastination is at an all time high. I’m what you would call… happy. Take that lightly – I’m stressed out too. I have deadlines to meet, a paying job to get back and forth to and a whole lot of sleep to catch up on. But, I’ve finally realised that my own happiness matters and even through the stress that I’m currently drowning under, I can safely say that I won’t be close to jumping off a cliff anytime soon.

You see, dear reader, it’s far too easy to get stuck in a place that isn’t healthy for you mentally or physically. I’ve been there far too many times and no matter how much I write about getting better, I have only ever gotten worse. I fought at every corner possible and there was no time out for a breather. I could scream at the top of my lungs and go completely unheard. I could spend days upon days inside the comfort of my own four walls and still be anxious that I’ve done something wrong to someone. It was real and it was painful and goddamnit, I ached from fear everyday. For years, I thought of myself as a strong and unbreakable person, only to be brought down to earth with a huge crash bang and a realisation that I’m just as fragile as anyone else. 2016, you’ve completely broken me. Thanks for that, bud.

I was close to the same destruction that haunted my teenage years. I didn’t care about what happened to me. Fail uni? That’s fine, I was prepared to work a minimum wage retail job for the rest of my life until I finally get a casket and stone to call my own. Lost my current job? Ah what the hell, I hardly go out enough to need the money anyway. Lost the people around me? What do they see in me anyway? I’m unfunny, offensive, loud and always insecure… they’d be better off without me bringing them down. I had no care in the world apart from what was going on inside my head. The fear of being alone forever, but pushing people away as soon as they knew too much. The tears I shed thinking about what would happen if I never made it into writing, but knowing that all I am is just another wannabe writer sitting at a laptop feeling so much self-pity that blog posts have become entirely dark and dull. I was someone I didn’t want to be, and it took months of being lonely and falling victim to my own thoughts to realise that it needs to change.

Not all things have changed. Like this for example, those of you reading will still read about how sad I’ve been and right now I wish I could be anywhere else but here. I’ve woken up too afraid to go to university just in case I fuck-up somewhere along the lines and I feel like I haven’t slept a wink despite last night being the most I’ve slept in the past two weeks. Not all things will change either and that’s the important part. I can write about being happy and what it will take for me to happy, but the truth is, is that there will always come a time where things are overwhelming. Where people are too much and where my life seems to flip the big “fuck you” in my face. But that’s okay, because now I can finally sit back and say hey, I matter too. And that’s the part that has made me happy. To know that somewhere along the lines, I do matter and that if I’m not content with things then something needs to change. Even if it is a little more mind-numbing, quality movie time.

I say it all the time, but you’re really not alone in this world. And never forget that. It’s easy to get too involved in helping and being there for other people to the point where you forget that you matter too. People will take advantage of that, especially when they know how easy it is for you to put them before you put yourself, but no matter what, remember that your happiness matters too. As soon as you forget about your own thoughts and emotions entirely is the point where you’ll end up spiraling to rock bottom without even noticing until it’s too late to get yourself out. You matter to me. Your happiness matters to me and it always will.

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Socialpathic [Part 1: An Introduction] **currently unfinished**

I’ve always known the difference between being acceptable and being weird. As far as I can remember, I have known what I should be doing and how I should be acting to what will ultimately be social suicide. How many other six year olds can recall making friends because they have to and not because they want to?

It’s not that friends never interested me because they did. People did. The way they interacted with each other, the jokes that they shared, the moments of happiness and sadness and the way that they would confide in each other. Craving that kind of relationship with another person was the hardest part of growing up, because I wanted it but there was never anyone that I could trust. I tried multiple times through my school years to find those people, but instead I would take as the silent other that would just listen, advise and be there for the people that trusted me. I was always so trustworthy and as much as I wished the feeling was mutual, I could never reciprocate since I knew too much.

I had tried multiple times to do exactly that – to completely break down my wall of security and to let people in. The first time being in year ten, and ever since then I’ve wished day after day that I had never done that. I knew that it was going to be my first “heartbreak” (I never liked that word, my heart was fine, I was just a little sad and confused) but I never knew the implications it would cause me in the long-term. Saying that, it was the first time I called a thing a relationship because he came to my concert and drank straight vodka with me afterwards. Romance isn’t dead. More on that later, though.

Ever since I can fully remember, my relationships with people have been a strange, tangled feeling that I could never make sense of. It was terrifying to be a part of something where I couldn’t predict the outcome and I took to a multitude of different personalities and molded them together into what I believed was likeable and acceptable. I wish I could say that this isn’t the case anymore, but it’s still a vital part of me and in the times that I’ve let that wall of security drop, my insecurities begin to surround me, engulfing me like a bone crunching snake that makes my chest feel tight and my oxygen levels lowering. Just like that sentence.

I won’t lie, friends have given me unforgettable memories. A lot of the time, people in my shoes say that they would much rather be alone, but not for me. I surrounded myself in their company and I enjoyed it. I envied the ones who were close-knit and I would find myself judging those friendships – would they or would they not be friends outside of school? Would they think of each other time and time again? I want to boast about how I was correct about most of them, but I also hate to admit that my school hours were spent pondering those kinds of things.

Writing this now, I wasted a huge portion of my life thinking. Everybody thinks, all day, every day. Here’s the difference – instead of plain thinking, I was overthinking. The past, the present, the future. I would analyse every single move a person would make; every facial expression meant something to me. If the tone of their voice was slightly lowered or monotone, I backed away and rethought my strategy. It got worse once I took to social media, where people took advantage of online talking rather than talking in real life. Where abbreviating words became popular and conversations turned mundane. A one word reply and I would spend the next hour wondering what I did wrong, what was it about me that didn’t interest anyone.

The truth is, I have always been stuck in a state of nostalgia. I don’t mean past-nostalgia either. Imagining the future of yourself and others around you is a kind of nostalgia if you think about it – you may not know the true outcome of what’s going to happen but you can have a good guess. My life is a state of imaginary happenings, past happenings and I-wish-it-would-happen.

***unfinished. expect edits & more content to be added later***

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Loneliness isn’t the problem, but finding the right help is.

Despite the rising awareness of mental health conditions, they are still disregarded and swept under the rug more times than not. There are still people wondering what to do and who to turn to when all else has failed – and failing can be a part of the end problem that’s ultimately tearing you up. No person should be expected – or belittled – for opening up to their emotions and feelings and admitting what’s really going on. Admitting to what feels like a weakness is already a difficult task, and admitting that weakness out loud shouldn’t feel like a joke. A person shouldn’t be made to feel ridiculous, dramatic, hopeless and they should not be made to feel alone. A person goes through an abundance of stages and emotions before they finally pluck up the courage to talk about it – so why should they feel that in the end, it was the worst idea they could have done?

There’s the exaggerated happiness, the forcing yourself and others around you to believe that happy and fine. The indecisive motivation telling you that you need to get up and do something, but you could wait a day or two to get that done. Locking yourself away at certain times just because it all gets too much and therefore snapping when someone tries to invade your space. The easily irritated, pushing the best of people in your life away. Dealing with it in your own way, writing to a blank piece of paper that cannot talk, that will soak up the sink and leave you yet again stranded in your own mind. Seeing friends but feeling guilty when you feel more of a downer than a bundle of joy. You get the point, a person has to deal with a lot of things before they finally open their mouth as a plea for help and being shut down at the end of it – to be disregarded as if a family had just reconsidered their decision to adopt a puppy. It’s only confirming what they already thought; that they have to go through this alone otherwise they deal with the consequences of being looked down upon, to be told that they’re over dramatic. It doesn’t just stop because it was an inconvenience for someone, we’ll just go back to pretending that we’re okay just so they can’t get ridiculed again.

People feel this way for different reasons, and it’s unfair to be judged about your own situation compared to someone else’s. Oh, I see, you’ve been through worse, so that’s why I cannot feel the way I do and ask for your help because you deem me unworthy of such compassion? Well shucks, here’s a medal and a one-way ticket to “Get-So-Far-Away-From-Me.” It doesn’t matter if you’re feeling the way you do because you’ve had a string of unfortunate events happen to you throughout your life or if you’re recently going through a rough patch, you are entitled to feel the way you do and do not let anyone tell you otherwise.

There are still too many of us finding the way out in all the wrong places. Loneliness isn’t the problem, but finding the right help is.

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