Everywhere I look there is death. Television, games, books, music and most importantly our everyday lives as if experiencing it first-hand isn’t enough. It’s almost like we crave it; we want to fill our lives with death until imaginary dead bodies are piling the streets of our minds.
We want to see dead bodies overflowing from our screens and pages and speakers. We want to drown in cold blue skin and choke on the stench of rotting. It’s death for goodness sakes! Death! Why are we so obsessed with it?
Through every possible medium we experience it. Murder mysteries, gangster style rap, first person shooters and of course our pets, grandparents and more for the unlucky amongst us. Why don’t we focus on the important things like, oh, I don’t know… Living? Breathing? Waking up? Seeing the sun just to feel alive?
I’m not going to lie to anyone. I can count the video games that I’ve played which don’t involve death on one hand and a mysterious or untimely death can be the best scenes when it comes to the big screens. Maybe it’s because… Well, what am I supposed to say? Maybe it’s because I enjoy those games, those films, those books and those songs? Maybe it’s because what else is there to glorify? Maybe because both.
We will all come to expire, all of us. Any single person in the whole of humanity who draws breath will not always have the privilege of life. For that reason shouldn’t we find something else to obsess over? There is enough death already.
We all think of cancer patients or terminally ill people as dying. We see the incurables and we say “They’re dying.” And while that is true who is to say it isn’t true for each and every one of us? The truth is we are all dying. With each minute that passes we come closer to our inevitable death.
I say we start living while we die. Forget about death, it’s no more than a living process that we each go through. Like a twenty-first birthday, a wedding, or even your first day of school. Let’s stop making living about dying; instead we should make it about feeling alive.
Friday 21 January 2011
Ambition.
As children the question “What do you want to be when you’re older?” is asked of you hundreds of times. Teachers, parents, friends and anyone who crosses your path will ask. At five my answers was “A princess!” at ten it was “A popstar!”. In the teen years reality sets in and you realise “Crap! I need to actually do something one day!” and so serious thought is put into the once harmless question. You find that you’re asking yourself what your dreams are. You want to know what you wish to achieve from your life. At fourteen, I decided I wanted to be a photographer, but as usual the reality was far from the dream and I was back to questioning myself.
Now, at eighteen, I still don’t know what I want to be when I’m older and I don’t know what my dreams are. Not everyone has to have a successful dream. Not everyone even has to have an unsuccessful dream, like me. There’s nothing wrong with being dreamless, ambitionless and probably miserable in later life. Hundreds of people with their precious dreams and wants end up in dead end jobs that they hate. Why can’t I just blindly stumble through life and end up the same as them without being frowned upon.
Now, at eighteen, I still don’t know what I want to be when I’m older and I don’t know what my dreams are. Not everyone has to have a successful dream. Not everyone even has to have an unsuccessful dream, like me. There’s nothing wrong with being dreamless, ambitionless and probably miserable in later life. Hundreds of people with their precious dreams and wants end up in dead end jobs that they hate. Why can’t I just blindly stumble through life and end up the same as them without being frowned upon.
The Happiness Buffet.
Am I happy? No, not necessarily. Is that so wrong? Is it so wrong that I’m not happy? Not everyone can be happy, it’s simple logic. Some people are born to be happy, others aren’t so lucky, but what am I supposed to do? Kill myself? Yes, maybe but what would that really fix. I’d be dead, not being unhappy anymore wouldn’t matter to me and so what is the point.
Sometimes I feel happy. Sometimes I feel like things are falling in place and that maybe I was meant to be happy but almost as soon as the thought filters into my mind I am somehow reminded of my so far unbeatable logic. If I were to assume that happiness could be contained then there can only be so much to go around and so first come first serve at the buffet of happiness ensues and those who get there first over indulge themselves, eating up the happiness given to them and just keep going back for more and more until there is none and late comers like myself are left with nothing but dry plates and tap water.
Sometimes I feel happy. Sometimes I feel like things are falling in place and that maybe I was meant to be happy but almost as soon as the thought filters into my mind I am somehow reminded of my so far unbeatable logic. If I were to assume that happiness could be contained then there can only be so much to go around and so first come first serve at the buffet of happiness ensues and those who get there first over indulge themselves, eating up the happiness given to them and just keep going back for more and more until there is none and late comers like myself are left with nothing but dry plates and tap water.
The Dramatics.
The dramatics send me wild, into white rage. Tears pour and teeth ground and I don’t think I ever frown so deeply as when we argue. I hate it, every second of it but somehow it keeps happening. Every single day I become annoyed, upset, angered, infuriated at times, because of you.
Somehow you seem to fuel my anger. Your words are filled with such distain for humanity that they scold me even when whispered. Forever you chime that you’re not perfect and that you hardly think anything of yourself but through this you glare down at everyone within distance to do so. You’re hurtful and cruel and every day I tell myself that I am done with being the person it falls back on, every silent moment after an argument, every delayed response, I am telling myself I’m done, but I never am because I can’t help but to love you. Constantly you tell me that I’m your best friend and that I’m to only one that means anything, if this is true then why does it seem that I bare the bane of your anger and distaste in human-kind.
You’re never going to change like you say you will, but perhaps one day I will. I will stop simply saying it and I will be done with you, one day I mentally won’t be able to handle anymore and this will stop. Is it really what I want? Do I really want to be done? No, but I feel that soon there will be no other choice.
Somehow you seem to fuel my anger. Your words are filled with such distain for humanity that they scold me even when whispered. Forever you chime that you’re not perfect and that you hardly think anything of yourself but through this you glare down at everyone within distance to do so. You’re hurtful and cruel and every day I tell myself that I am done with being the person it falls back on, every silent moment after an argument, every delayed response, I am telling myself I’m done, but I never am because I can’t help but to love you. Constantly you tell me that I’m your best friend and that I’m to only one that means anything, if this is true then why does it seem that I bare the bane of your anger and distaste in human-kind.
You’re never going to change like you say you will, but perhaps one day I will. I will stop simply saying it and I will be done with you, one day I mentally won’t be able to handle anymore and this will stop. Is it really what I want? Do I really want to be done? No, but I feel that soon there will be no other choice.
Lewis.
He really hurt me when he left, I admitted it to almost everyone, but I don't think they really understand that I mean it. I can tell. The way they look at me, they don't consider the pain I might or might not feel, their eyes don't ask me how I am when their mouths are pretending I am fine by nattering on and on. It's horrible that I don't care for what they say, I'm healing.
They try to tell me I need someone else, try to get me to flirt and put myself on the market, I am young I know, I am foolish I know, but can you not consider for even five minutes that perhaps I planned to be young and foolish with him no matter how wise or old I become, can you not just understand for five minutes that I'm not interested in sleeping with another boy to forget the boy I lost. I'm not interested in meeting new people or winking at the guy that was checking me out all day from across the Starbucks store, because no matter how available I am right now, I still belong with that one guy, the one who ignored me most of the time and was too wrapped up in his own stuff to acknowledge my existence.
It upset me the majority of the time, that he didn't look at me when I would wander in to check on him, it upset me that I put myself out and allowed him to be my everything, and he was, my everything. When he left he took everything with him, everything that mattered to me, and that was him, just him, and now I sit here and stare at all my material possessions and think, "I would give all this to have him back." XBOX 360? Who wants one of those? Wii? I don't need that. Nintendo DS? What’s the point? iPod Touch? Mobile phone? Car? Money? Music? Films? Laptop? I don't want any of this stuff, it's all so boring, and pointless to me now. All the things that once held such significance in my life all are nothing but dust collectors. Anything that was ever important is now not even as much as a blip on my radar of things I could not live without. Music is bland; films leave a bad taste in my mouth. I would give a hundred million pairs of shoes for one more day with him.
I could happily give everything I ever loved and cherished for him, no matter how much he has hurt me by leaving, I would have him over anything else. I'm so angry, and filled with hate. My hate for him is what fuels me, what makes me feel better about his leaving. My white-hot anger and my bitter pain is all I have to hold onto and perhaps I shouldn't bathe in it, but if I didn't what would I do, cry all the time? Yes, I probably would, and the worst part? Despite all this I want him to cuddle me at night, I want it to be him that I fall asleep next to and wake up with, I want to make him dinner, and make him coffee, I want to hold his hand and watch him play computer games. All the things I despised about him, his hairy nipples, his cold feet, the way he took up the entire bed, how he spent more time talking to his arsehole of a brother than speaking to me, even though he lived with me, how I was always the one to cook dinner and how he used to let his beard grow out, even though he knew it irritated my sensitive skin, all those horrible things that I cursed when he was here, I would welcome back with open arms if it meant I could have him.
Sure, day by day the pain lessens, the hurt dulls, the love grows distant, but that doesn't stop the raging hole in my chest that screams at me every morning, afternoon, evening and night, "Something’s missing!" and it is, he is missing and as a result a part of me has disappeared with him into oblivion. What's worse? That he left, or that one day I won’t remember his face, or his voice, perhaps one day I'll forget his favourite food, or how he has his coffee? It's been a little over a month and I've already forgotten his middle name, was it Lee, Jacob, James, Philip, John? Will the day come that I will pass him on the street and not even know who he is?
I think no one realises he was my everything, the thing that kept me sane. Everyone has their thing, it might be a best friend, a child, a parent, their job, money, sex, a pet, a husband, a wife, a combination of some or all, well he was my thing, the thing that made life a little more worthwhile. It made missing the bus not seem so bad, it made the rain pleasant and it made the tears I cried over silly things go away. It caught all the spiders and it changed the light bulb, it encouraged me and listened to me natter on late into the night about stupid, meaningless, jibber jabber. Had I of known we didn't have much longer together I wouldn't have filled our nights with such pointless conversation, I would have spoken about all the important things, but, what are the important things? I no longer know, I've lost grip on reality which keeps spinning around me, reeling out and spinning webs that don't involve me and him being together, but rather me being alone.
They try to tell me I need someone else, try to get me to flirt and put myself on the market, I am young I know, I am foolish I know, but can you not consider for even five minutes that perhaps I planned to be young and foolish with him no matter how wise or old I become, can you not just understand for five minutes that I'm not interested in sleeping with another boy to forget the boy I lost. I'm not interested in meeting new people or winking at the guy that was checking me out all day from across the Starbucks store, because no matter how available I am right now, I still belong with that one guy, the one who ignored me most of the time and was too wrapped up in his own stuff to acknowledge my existence.
It upset me the majority of the time, that he didn't look at me when I would wander in to check on him, it upset me that I put myself out and allowed him to be my everything, and he was, my everything. When he left he took everything with him, everything that mattered to me, and that was him, just him, and now I sit here and stare at all my material possessions and think, "I would give all this to have him back." XBOX 360? Who wants one of those? Wii? I don't need that. Nintendo DS? What’s the point? iPod Touch? Mobile phone? Car? Money? Music? Films? Laptop? I don't want any of this stuff, it's all so boring, and pointless to me now. All the things that once held such significance in my life all are nothing but dust collectors. Anything that was ever important is now not even as much as a blip on my radar of things I could not live without. Music is bland; films leave a bad taste in my mouth. I would give a hundred million pairs of shoes for one more day with him.
I could happily give everything I ever loved and cherished for him, no matter how much he has hurt me by leaving, I would have him over anything else. I'm so angry, and filled with hate. My hate for him is what fuels me, what makes me feel better about his leaving. My white-hot anger and my bitter pain is all I have to hold onto and perhaps I shouldn't bathe in it, but if I didn't what would I do, cry all the time? Yes, I probably would, and the worst part? Despite all this I want him to cuddle me at night, I want it to be him that I fall asleep next to and wake up with, I want to make him dinner, and make him coffee, I want to hold his hand and watch him play computer games. All the things I despised about him, his hairy nipples, his cold feet, the way he took up the entire bed, how he spent more time talking to his arsehole of a brother than speaking to me, even though he lived with me, how I was always the one to cook dinner and how he used to let his beard grow out, even though he knew it irritated my sensitive skin, all those horrible things that I cursed when he was here, I would welcome back with open arms if it meant I could have him.
Sure, day by day the pain lessens, the hurt dulls, the love grows distant, but that doesn't stop the raging hole in my chest that screams at me every morning, afternoon, evening and night, "Something’s missing!" and it is, he is missing and as a result a part of me has disappeared with him into oblivion. What's worse? That he left, or that one day I won’t remember his face, or his voice, perhaps one day I'll forget his favourite food, or how he has his coffee? It's been a little over a month and I've already forgotten his middle name, was it Lee, Jacob, James, Philip, John? Will the day come that I will pass him on the street and not even know who he is?
I think no one realises he was my everything, the thing that kept me sane. Everyone has their thing, it might be a best friend, a child, a parent, their job, money, sex, a pet, a husband, a wife, a combination of some or all, well he was my thing, the thing that made life a little more worthwhile. It made missing the bus not seem so bad, it made the rain pleasant and it made the tears I cried over silly things go away. It caught all the spiders and it changed the light bulb, it encouraged me and listened to me natter on late into the night about stupid, meaningless, jibber jabber. Had I of known we didn't have much longer together I wouldn't have filled our nights with such pointless conversation, I would have spoken about all the important things, but, what are the important things? I no longer know, I've lost grip on reality which keeps spinning around me, reeling out and spinning webs that don't involve me and him being together, but rather me being alone.
Friday 23 April 2010
But I'll never forgive or forget.
It physically takes the breath from my lungs. Cool air slowly releases, perhaps it's warm, but my mouth is hotter, like when you feel cold and you ask someone to feel you to prove it, but they are always colder.
It's not just my heart on which he pulls the strings, but my entire chest. My empty lungs stretch uncomfortably, my heart twangs, my ribcage creeks from the weight of his words.
He is dangerous. I think I knew it when I first met him, but young and foolish as I was I bit the bullet he shot at me, and I held on and for a while it was good. Nice. Fun. It was exciting. After so long the excitement died, and his harsh but witty humour became nothing but unnecesssary and hurtful. I was holding on to the bullet that I had clenched between my teeth, but the thrill of catching it was no longer there, only the fear of letting it go. There was nothing left for us, I knew it almost instantly, and he knew too.
Perhaps it was because I couldn't trust him as far as I could throw him. Or perhaps it was because I couldn't trust myself. Or perhaps it was just never going to work. I don't like to think that any of those were right, but it was true. I was young and he was nasty. What could I do but take a time out. Breathe. Live.
He did a horrible thing and he hurt me. To this day I don't know why I deserved it, from either of them. I did all I knew to do from the start. I was practically a child, I couldn't be blamed for the things I said. I couldn't be blamed for something that was out of my power.
I said things I meant. I'm not going to lie and say that it was the heat of the moment. I wished the worst kind of pain on him. I wished eternal darkness. I wished memories which will burn and sting everytime he remembered. In many ways I still wish the last upon him.
Many say that time is required to forgive and forget. That may be true, and while over time I forgot many details, I forgot most of the time in which our lives intertwined, I forgot his face and I forgot his history, forgive him I did not.
I was shocked in myself, the first time I contacted him. Why? I asked myself over and over. Why am I doing this? But nonetheless I pressed send and soon send turned into the small, round green phone and I heard his voice. It hadn't changed at all, it was still amazing, captivating. I expected to be repulsed and find an excuse to leave, but instead I was mesmerised, listening to him talk, for hours and hours and then for hours the next day, and everyday. It was probably then that I could feel myself falling. I wish I had the strength then to cut it off, to strangle our relations to within an inch of it's life. Instead I allowed myself to be swallowed whole by his silken accent. It blanketed me, warmed me, I could hardly even remember why I had been so mad at him.
Okay, so perhaps that is a lie. I remembered well, but what could I do? I was trapped, but I pretended to myself that I wasn't, that I was in charge. Like an alcoholic I told myself I could give him up if I wanted to, I just didn't want to.
And so I fell further and further, like Alice down the rabbit hole. I thought I'd fall forever, tumbling, reaching for an edge to hoist myself up on, but there was nothing, complete blackness but it was warm. Filled with feelings of artificial love that I had fooled myself into seeing. I could have fallen forever and never cared, but then I hit the ground. As I hit I must've smacked my head, and my heart because there he stood Friday 26th March 2010 and I fell back in love with the man that had filled me with a kind of anger that scared me only a few years before.
It's not just my heart on which he pulls the strings, but my entire chest. My empty lungs stretch uncomfortably, my heart twangs, my ribcage creeks from the weight of his words.
He is dangerous. I think I knew it when I first met him, but young and foolish as I was I bit the bullet he shot at me, and I held on and for a while it was good. Nice. Fun. It was exciting. After so long the excitement died, and his harsh but witty humour became nothing but unnecesssary and hurtful. I was holding on to the bullet that I had clenched between my teeth, but the thrill of catching it was no longer there, only the fear of letting it go. There was nothing left for us, I knew it almost instantly, and he knew too.
Perhaps it was because I couldn't trust him as far as I could throw him. Or perhaps it was because I couldn't trust myself. Or perhaps it was just never going to work. I don't like to think that any of those were right, but it was true. I was young and he was nasty. What could I do but take a time out. Breathe. Live.
He did a horrible thing and he hurt me. To this day I don't know why I deserved it, from either of them. I did all I knew to do from the start. I was practically a child, I couldn't be blamed for the things I said. I couldn't be blamed for something that was out of my power.
I said things I meant. I'm not going to lie and say that it was the heat of the moment. I wished the worst kind of pain on him. I wished eternal darkness. I wished memories which will burn and sting everytime he remembered. In many ways I still wish the last upon him.
Many say that time is required to forgive and forget. That may be true, and while over time I forgot many details, I forgot most of the time in which our lives intertwined, I forgot his face and I forgot his history, forgive him I did not.
I was shocked in myself, the first time I contacted him. Why? I asked myself over and over. Why am I doing this? But nonetheless I pressed send and soon send turned into the small, round green phone and I heard his voice. It hadn't changed at all, it was still amazing, captivating. I expected to be repulsed and find an excuse to leave, but instead I was mesmerised, listening to him talk, for hours and hours and then for hours the next day, and everyday. It was probably then that I could feel myself falling. I wish I had the strength then to cut it off, to strangle our relations to within an inch of it's life. Instead I allowed myself to be swallowed whole by his silken accent. It blanketed me, warmed me, I could hardly even remember why I had been so mad at him.
Okay, so perhaps that is a lie. I remembered well, but what could I do? I was trapped, but I pretended to myself that I wasn't, that I was in charge. Like an alcoholic I told myself I could give him up if I wanted to, I just didn't want to.
And so I fell further and further, like Alice down the rabbit hole. I thought I'd fall forever, tumbling, reaching for an edge to hoist myself up on, but there was nothing, complete blackness but it was warm. Filled with feelings of artificial love that I had fooled myself into seeing. I could have fallen forever and never cared, but then I hit the ground. As I hit I must've smacked my head, and my heart because there he stood Friday 26th March 2010 and I fell back in love with the man that had filled me with a kind of anger that scared me only a few years before.
Saturday 17 April 2010
Things I hate about my bestfriend:
He is an extremely picky eater.
He buys a glass of coke and only drinks half
He is grumpier than the dwarf
He lets me win.
He beats me when I tell him not to let me.
I thought he was a massive arsehole and it turned out I was wrong.
He lives too far away.
He cut his beautiful hair off.
He doesn't mix tastes in food which makes him impossible to cook for.
He doesn't respect my love of the following things; Marmite, Broccoli, Tomatos, Noodles, The Sims, Twilight, Spot Popping, Cider, Crap TV Shows.
He watches Shameless.
He watches Hollyoaks.
He watches EASTENDERS!
I can't take him seriously.
He is either grumpy or being silly.
E proppa takes the piss atta ma accent.
He flinches when I try to pop his spots.
He plays silly Facebook games.
He always tells me that we're going to die in 2012.
He is getting a pin-up girl tattoo on his leg.
He is always mean to his Nan (Her name is NOT Sweaty Betty!)
He calls his Nan, Gran.
He has a poor taste in girlfriends.
He is better than me at every single game.
He is annoying.
He farts in my general direction.
He lets people (especially girls!) walk all over him.
He is easily angered.
He has lost faith in humanity.
He wont play Animal Crossing with me.
He thinks he is tough, but really he is a little kitten. Meow.
I love him to pieces and would be lost without him.
He buys a glass of coke and only drinks half
He is grumpier than the dwarf
He lets me win.
He beats me when I tell him not to let me.
I thought he was a massive arsehole and it turned out I was wrong.
He lives too far away.
He cut his beautiful hair off.
He doesn't mix tastes in food which makes him impossible to cook for.
He doesn't respect my love of the following things; Marmite, Broccoli, Tomatos, Noodles, The Sims, Twilight, Spot Popping, Cider, Crap TV Shows.
He watches Shameless.
He watches Hollyoaks.
He watches EASTENDERS!
I can't take him seriously.
He is either grumpy or being silly.
E proppa takes the piss atta ma accent.
He flinches when I try to pop his spots.
He plays silly Facebook games.
He always tells me that we're going to die in 2012.
He is getting a pin-up girl tattoo on his leg.
He is always mean to his Nan (Her name is NOT Sweaty Betty!)
He calls his Nan, Gran.
He has a poor taste in girlfriends.
He is better than me at every single game.
He is annoying.
He farts in my general direction.
He lets people (especially girls!) walk all over him.
He is easily angered.
He has lost faith in humanity.
He wont play Animal Crossing with me.
He thinks he is tough, but really he is a little kitten. Meow.
I love him to pieces and would be lost without him.
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