Dead Zone.

I never fully understand why people cannot talk about death on a proper intellectual sense. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my own emo like trope surrounding it.. my emo days, and were evidently apparent whenever my mental health takes a downturn for the worse. But what I don’t understand is that people can never properly talk about death entirely, like the whole thing in itself is taboo because it does personally feel to me like people fear that idea quite a lot.

Nobody initially wants to die, and those who do are usually at a point where situations have not fallen favourably for them. But the final moments in the buildup to death is understandably something people can be scared of. But then, you’re dead. Did all that fear really matter? Did it change anything? No. Because you’re dead. So why not use this to live life your way? Everything will be forgotten within years rather than a generation, so you might as well add meaning to your life you know?

I’ve had conversations with friends which always made them worry for me, and incorrectly so. I’m rather aware that I could die at any point, even while writing this. There is no guarantee to life at any point. It’s only recently realised that despite the obvious negative viewpoints surrounding that mindset, there are a lot of pros too. You can at least die doing what you like. Anything that you feel would embarrass you wouldn’t matter anymore. It may feel like ages, but people forget, they have other things to think about. I didn’t mean that to sound demeaning, it’s not. But, its life. Sometimes we get hung up people, other times we can easy discard communication without warning to others.

Which brings me back to the point about talking about death. It genuinely gets me riled as to how easily people will bicker and fall out over the most mundane of situations. They never speak again, and then boom, one of them is dead.

Cue the superlatives of how the other person wishes they spent time with the other before their passing. And it’s why I think it’s an issue that people choose to ignore the prospect of death wherever they can. I’ve taken a few burned bridges really badly previously and has caused genuine emotional distress. But looking back on that, I think it was because for me, it was the not being present for anything up until their death. This involved in previously declared “for life” friends. I think, for others it’s more, “Fuck you, you’re out of my life”, but I wonder if other people think of that as in, “Shit, I will know absolutely nothing about you until someone tells me you’re dead”. Imagine losing a relationship in whatever format it is, to some potentially small thing (dependent on situation, obviously) and then that’s literally the last memory you have with them?

You can’t have life without death. It sounds obvious, but at the same time, you’d be surprised as to how many people don’t know that. Lemme elaborate. For instance, if you focus on the life side too much, then your final moments will be genuinely horrific, and I genuinely believe that. Even just accepting that one day it will end is enough. For instance, people assume that their deaths will be nice and comforting, surrounded by friends and family which is obviously ideal. Some people will dream of it, but a fair few won’t get that at all. So whenever a loved one is lost, people are just emotionally donkey punched, because it’s the whole covering death thing. I’m not saying you want them to die, of course not, you want to make the people you love around be around as long as possible. But my issue is people assuming that it’s guaranteed. Nope, all you can do is contribute to the longevity as best as you can through life lessons, seeing them more etc.

On the flipside, just thinking about death with the absence of life is a sure fire way to see the bleakness in life. Shout out to the old emo days. I guess it’s finding the balance, actually, not even that. More a 60/40 split of loving life, but being aware of death at all times, and not being that affected by it. For instance, say you wanted to do skydiving but you didn’t because you’re scared you’ll die from a parachute malfunction, you not doing that jump does not exempt you from death. So, ideally you can teach yourself to put the fear to one side and just…go with it. It’s like terminally ill patients, so many of them have this second wind and do all this shit they never previously cared to do, or did but just never made time.

There it is. There’s the point I was trying to make, I knew I’d get there eventually. Ok wait, lemme make it pretentious for you now.

Nobody wants to die, or at the very least should want to die. But we all are. It’s inevitable. But you might as well use this time to have a good time. Fuck your self-doubt. You only have one shot, now’s a good as a time as any to own your life. The wanting to delay death is not something to fear, you should see it as a middle finger up to The Reaper and trolling it by doing all the stuff you want to do.

I think it’s a nice way to look at it personally. Shame I haven’t met anyone else yet who thinks like this. Death isn’t scary. Especially if you do it like Tony Montana. Gawsh, what a way to go.



Being Driven Cat-Shit Crazy.

First and foremost, I am a dog lover. I have no issue with people who prefer cats, but it seems to be a problem for some of them, that my allegiance to the canines is an easy one to make.

That being said, I used to dislike cats. There was this really pathetic moment when I was 16 or so, and I was stroking my friend’s cat. Everything’s chill, the cat is purring and we’re both loving life.

Then, outta nowhere, there was a moment. Which, I cannot lie, still burns deep in my heart. The cat scratched me. For no reason. I mean, looking back on it the scratch was tiny.

…What? I said it was a pathetic reason; it hurt me emotionally, the kind of feels where the non-physical pain is so bad that for some reason it feels like you got kicked in the balls too. The wound was minimal, not even paper cut size. But the action cut deeper than an over-sized industrial oil digger deathtrap thing. So yeah, I had a problem with cats for a long time.

Thankfully, I’ve learned to like them a lot in recent years. Definitely not love, but like a lot. But they don’t half piss me off. I enjoy the neediness from the dog, I understand why that would be an issue for putting people off dogs but I’m on the other end of the spectrum. I can’t take the moments they do the whole “oh yeah, I lurveee ya” then boom, they’re done, they wanna see what that person is doing. No loyalty. I’m aware they do, but as a non-cat owner these are very rare occurrences, I have a very limited time-frame to convince them that I, I am the one they want to hang with in this moment. With dogs? Boom, bezzies for life mate. They’re like that person at the rave that is raving alone with their imaginary friends due to the crazy amounts of MDMA consumed, but fuck it, they’re loving life, they’ll talk to anyone, they are dowwwwwwwwwwwwwn widdit.

Problem is, cats are too damn cute, and they know it. The ingrained program of wanting to be pampered without working for it grinds my gears. It grinds my gears more knowing that they know I will do it anyway. Being all fluffy and shit, it fucks me off. My neighbour’s cat and I recently have this weird bond. It’s kinda happened over the past year or so because she stares me down every time I go into my house. In that year, she’s somehow trained ME to sit down with her while she sits on me while it’s cold. I pet her, she does her ‘look at my impression of a Ferrari engine’ noises and then I go in after like half an hour. She literally blocks me from entering my own home until she gets that. And guess what? She fucks off too immediately once her owner comes along. I get it, her owner, the momma of the cat’s life, but give some kind of like goodbye high five or something. But they’re so cute.

Then again, there are pretty cool cats that I have come across, that are semi-dog like in terms of the neediness that I like in animals. One of the ones I stroked on LSD looked blue like the Avatar aliens, which is strange because I never really cared for that film. But the cat did look pretty damn cool in terms of my hallucinating. It was strange, I feel like he knew what was going on and went along with it. I have this belief that animals know more than they’re letting on and what we’ll ever know from studying them. Not in the paranoia sense, but since I was a child, I’ve always felt like they all definitely know something humans don’t. Maybe we’ll know one day, but my personal views think otherwise.

Anyway, reeling myself back in.

To summarise, fuck cats. But they’re awesome. They remind me of those characters in movies who are dickheads, but are morally decent people with those they trust, should they decide to stick around long enough. Like Rudy from Misfits if you know the reference. I wouldn’t say Nathan, I don’t think it’s realistically possible to hang out with him long enough and not kill him. Great character in the show though.

All in.

I’m pretty bad at practising my faith, but I never shied away from stating that I am Muslim. It’s never been an issue for me. I don’t think I need to go into the situation with the Muslim folk nowadays in terms of them being under the global microscope, but this isn’t the point of the post. I’ll get to the actual post eventually, but I need to give you some crap backstory which does tie in with the post. It might be pointless to mention, but I feel it’s relevant, and this is a blog about talking utter shite, so… ya know.

As I was saying, I’m terrible practising the faith, I almost never pray unless goaded to by my family because of the fact I barely went, I’ve travelled down the yellow brick road on a variety of drugs, I’ve drank (though I really, really see why I’m not meant to. I’m bad on the stuff and I have no idea how it can be fun. On the plus side I will get you shit face wasted for my own amusement. Only for the ones that enjoy playing that game though, then everyone wins.), and the no acting on lust was overruled a long time ago.

But, spiritually, I’m there. I only eat halal stuff, I’ve not drank in a hella long time (made easier by the fact I hate it, trust me, 3 years of uni was enough), and I’ve never gambled, purely because I know myself well enough to know it would suck me in. I used to be an avid gamer, the kind of avid gamer that few would actually care to do.

So, you know those trophies on Playstation or achievements on Xbox that was a stipulation for every game? Well, I was a PS4 man, so I used to try get the maximum achievements for every game I played. I mean, it was impossible to do it on every game I played, but I still think getting 46 platinum trophies is a personal big deal.

That declaration either impressed or disappointed you. Probably the latter. But, in my defence, apparently people are selling their accounts with the platinum trophies for hundreds/thousands of dollars, so TECHNICALLY it all paid off… I am sticking to that. Your judgment is most likely objectively correct, but I’m learning to be more authoritative.

But with the backstory complete, this brings me onto my post. I’ve been having the usual contemplation session and I realised that despite my clinging onto the few rules of Islam I can adhere to, I may have probably broken one of those for a long ass time without realising until then.

I think I’ve been gambling a hell of a lot, the kind of makes me think that something needs to change. And I don’t mean in the financial sense, that I’m still staying well away from. But more in everything else that would directly affect my mood in the same way as gambling with money.

Lemme break it down a bit further, let’s take university or studying for an exam. Raise your hand if you knew you had to revise, do work, or write the damn thing but chose not to, whether it was for low serotonin levels, or you just wanted future you to deal with it because “it’s alllll fine”. I’m raising both hands.

Raise your foot if you ever found yourself not wanting to go out because you want to be smart and be ready for work tomorrow, until that one text from a friend makes you go “oh, fuck it” and leaving it for future you to deal with?

Raise your eyebrow if you promised yourself anything you swore to do, only to lie to yourself and then flit in between nonchalance and self-disdain, almost at times simultaneously?

Wait. Wait. I want to put a meme in here. I’m not a regular user of them, but maaaaaaaan it is so apt right now.

Because there is always an appropriate time to show old school Rock.

The above were just a few examples, but you see the vibe I’m making here. And I’ve gambled on stupider things, and I assume at the very least that some of you have done the same. Except what’s money in comparison to your life? Money is important, sure, but why gamble with something that should personally be more precious to you, being you?

Taking the potential addiction/losing it all aspect out of the equation, money comes and goes in gambling, you can make it back with some source of change, be it from an income from a job, being frugal with your spending, turning to people for a loan (temporarily, of course) and so on. You can make it back.

Compare that to emotional gambling, could you say the same? Sure, you can find a new hobby, you can find someone else to fill the void and worship you, you can even change your whole goddamn character, but that moment directly affected you to make the change. You never think about that specific £10 you lost on a night out and it hangs over your head forever, but people will internally wax lyrical about the moment that changed them in whatever format. I’m aware that a fair amount of cases exist where it changed them for the better. But that’s another gamble in itself, do you let that moment overwhelm you, or do you overwhelm it?

Maybe there’s a new year’s resolution in all this. Something like learning to do calculated risks, and not life or death gambling. My personality  so far in life has always revolved around all or nothing bias that it could be applied to: sports, love, completing a game 100% just because, friendships, affection for dogs (always all, always), everything has a competitive element to it, not that I’d make it a competition with everyone I meet (I always do with like minded people though, they understand the thrill of competing).

Maybe things will take a less dynamic approach to life if I had more structure, stop with the time limitations to do things to myself, and just, do. Like a robot, calculating risks to shit and doing the action that will be the easiest option. Obviously this won’t apply to people, but I have discarded the “friends forever” thing (I blame anime as a child/now) and adopted a “enjoy ’em while they’re there” philosophy. It sucks a little when I hear cherished friends talk about forever involving us, because I’ve gone past believing it. Been there, believed it, didn’t happen. The usual reasons for keeping up a guard. I’m entirely happy to be wrong about it. I would never shoot down my friends saying that, because I do believe they believe this statement, I just think they overlook that they’re saying it in the now, things and people change constantly. An example would be most people talking smack about one former partner they had and how they regretted it etc. Exact same things with friendships, though from a personal standpoint, friendship breakups are way worse. Probably would explain the emotional fortress thing.

Some who might read this would argue that taking a chance at life is worth it sometimes. And I agree, but it’s only worth it if you actually want to take it in the first place,  and I legitimately have no desire to anymore.

Serious gibberish in this post, my apologies. I’m still shaking the dust off in my defence, plus the mary j(s) probably didn’t help the cause. I’ll try to do better.










The Purge.

…I really need to stop making such OTT title names for a blog post, but then again, that was always the fun part.

This isn’t in reference to the film where everyone gets to act how they want in a crime free 12 hour period. Although, not gonna lie, I kinda want to see that happen just to see what people are truly like. I’d probably just play on the Playstation, but anyone trying to break in will die. Especially if I’m in the middle of a super hard boss fight/in the middle of a FIFA match. Don’t. Just don’t. Go crime spree elsewhere.

In fact, the reference is probably closer to “that episode of Friends” where the ladies burn old sentimental stuff in order to let go and move the fuck on, but I think theirs revolved on a more spiritual basis, according to the book they were reading off.

Mine was fairly similar. Less humorous, no burning, just, going through old shit and deciding it was time to bin it. They are still worth of sentimental value to me, but these were things from people who I hadn’t even spoken to in years. For varying reasons, amicable and otherwise, around 85% of the things I had kept belonged to people who aren’t in my life anymore. And quite frankly, it sucked. It took a long time to move on from these people (I lost ’em at varying points in my life), and seeing all these things reminded me of the good times. It hits me pretty hard when close relationships end, as I guess it’s a dreamer thing to assume that things can last forever with them. Skipping down the fields holding hands, picking up daisies and shit.

Evidently, that mindset has been completely warped into something else, I haven’t figured out if it’s a good or bad thing, but I guess it’s working out for me in terms of my views and beliefs. I guess it’s life, ennit.

Aside from the attempt at emotional maturity, it dawned on me as to how much a serial hoarder I am for the sentimental stuff. Below is a list to name some of the many things I had thrown away. I won’t be giving too much of the back story for each item. Some are self-explanatory, and others will just probably leave you scratching your head.

  • A golf ball.
  • Drum and Bass event wristbands from the periods 2009-2013 – University days.
  • A bell in the shape of a maiden. Technically a shemale to me, as the ball hit the underside of her skirt to make the ringing sound.
  • A love letter from someone I was in love with for ages, she sent it when we were like 17/18 at the time.
  • Family photos from my father’s side. A lot of them.
  • Leaving notebooks from when I was in Year 6. When I was twelve years old. In pristine condition.
  • My year 8 grades for all my subjects. They weren’t great.
  • A manga adaptation of Much Ado About Nothing. It was given to me from my ex-girlfriend. I’m over it, but it’s also still pretty raw, you know what I mean? It had to be done. I didn’t want to though.
  • An iron-on badge of Colorado.
  • A Motorola. I have no idea what the model was called.
  • A Blackberry curve.
  • A select few pictures of street art made by Banksy.
  • Some friendship band thingy.

I can’t remember the rest off the top of my head, and looking back on it the list was not as random as I thought it would be. BUT THERE WAS RANDOM SHIT, I PROMISE YOU. I should have noted it all down prior. ‘Tis a lesson learned!

But as I was throwing these all in a bin, each time with a slight pang of regret and guilt, even though I knew I had no reason to feel guilty. I guess it was just the final acceptance that they’re completely gone that was a little hard to take. Sure, I still have a fair few on social media, but I’m not that kinda guy to assume shit like that counts. I need the real stuff, and it’s unfortunate that these people are not around any more.

It set something off in me though. No crying or anything like that. Nor was I exactly jubilant and doing back flips off my bed. I dunno, it was more a realisation that things end when they end. It can’t be helped, and it’s just a waste of time to cling to something that needs to be let go. Not out of bitterness, but more for the sake of mental sanity.

I still miss all the people that I have had such strong bonds with, but back then I had the problem of missing people and hoping they would come back. Now it’s morphed into missing people from time to time and accepting they aren’t coming back (and not being saddened by it). Dunno about you, but it’s a personal win for me. Getting this maturity thang dowwwwwwwwwn sooooooooooooooooooooooon.

Hmm, maybe Phoebe, Rachel and Monica were onto something. Maybe I should have set it on fire like they did.



A short story: Lovesick.

So. A good friend of mine set me a challenge to write a story with a sad twist at the end. I mean, this is a few months ago now, but I found it in the ol’ archives of unnecessary stuff I’ve wrote and never cared to post out. But now, I’m in a state of “fuck it” and I now I guess I care a little. I don’t know the entire purpose of me wanting to make it public; is it for recognition? Is it as a dare to myself to get over the shyness/blase and to just jump headfirst and fight off all worries made in my head?

…Anyway, those are questions for me to answer. Back to the point. I made this story on the fly and it seemed to have got decent enough feedback. Though his girlfriend has pointed out that it was unnecessarily wordy at times. I mean. She’s definitely right, BUT, in my defence, I was (and am currently) incredibly stoned. I was just more impressed that I cared enough to put a little Easter egg in the story. Which…unfortunately, nobody figured out. Was the riddle to solve just too majestic for their feeble minds to comprehend? Was the riddle to solve just a really shit one I made up and just frankly awful?

Objectively, it is almost certainly the latter. But apparently if you’re gonna win at this life game you need to big up yourself.

So it’s definitely the former. Mmhm. Maybe. No. Certainly.

Anyway, I’ll note down the riddle/Easter egg after the story and do let me know if you’ve figured it out.

Clue – Look at the weirdly typed words. 

Oooh. Mystical.

It’s called Lovesick because I’m being deep and shit. Enjoy.


“Fuck. Here she comes. Fuck. It’s happening. FuCk. God, she looks so beautiful. Fuck. This is it, you’re officially a man now. Fuck. She’s so getting laid tonight. Fuck. It’lL bE All oVer in a fEw momENts, and she’ll be yOuR WIfe. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu……”

He wasn’t the most unique of men. Just another guy in the world, a being who existed to leave his almost negligible mark on the planet. An average male, who always had average grades, who never went through overt hardships in his life. Sure, he lost a few relatives that meant a lot to him. He also lost an abnormal amount of weight for a month, once his childhood sweetheart left him for a recently qualified doctor. And he’s dabbled in the odd joint or two with his friends, aside from the culture of drinking. Oh, and he has watched a few documentaries about the Illuminati. But, surely everyone has come across it themselves? Or at least heard someone declaring it, from their mouths or otherwise.

Irrespective of his awareness to all this, it didn’t matter to him. Today was their day. It didn’t matter to him which innocents were suffering today, it didn’t matter if the right-wing took over every single nation overnight. This day would always be known as his happiest moment. He was going to marry the woman he loved.

As she walked towards the increasingly sweaty groom, the buzzing hubbub of the room was ushered into a mystic silence. It was their day, but it was always going to be about her. Her unimpeachable aura soothed those she walked past, and would calm even the most distrustful of people. She, was a woman who had chosen her life partner, and she made damn sure all those around her, including her husband-to-be knew about it.

She turns and faces him. She displays a smile of such sincerity it causes areas of the room to spontaneously cry from indescribable emotion. All those who were present, were witnessing a once in a lifetime moment. Sure, this happens all the time, but not everyone will witness it, only the 300 strong attendees would. It was a moment, and all were fixated on the two catalysts for this day.

Before she can say a word to him, the groom speaks:

“I tRuLy neVer saW tHis comINg. I nEveR thOughT sOMethIng liKE tHis WOUld hAPPEn to someone like me. I just lived for the sake of living you know? Day by day, working, sleeping, watching the football, flicking through social media to see the next funny thing, but you… You gave me a reason to see the bigger picture, and I will always be thankful for you for blessing me with this new lease of life. I sWeAR tHAt I wiLL kEeP YoU iN My ThougGHTS and my heart. You have truly made me happy. And I just wanted to say, that I am TruLY GraTEfuL to be yours for the rest of our lives.”

She stares back with tears in her eyes, overwhelmed by his sudden pour of affection. She opens her mouth and begins to respond:


They are interrupted by a darkness which envelops the room, a quiet whisper of discontent reverberates from the friends and family invited to the ceremony. They’re scared. Of course, who wouldn’t be scared in that situation? It’s a supernatural thing to happen. A loud crash echoes in a distance, met with squeals and gasps of uncertainty. This doesn’t happen to anyone, even if the marriage is just one of billions that have already happened, and will ever happen. Even if it was just meant to be in the pile of all the other forgotten marriages and moments in the world, even if no else would witness this apart from those joined, it didn’t matter to him, he would be with his wife through the good and the horrific. Though he was afraid, he would not leave her side.


He noticed her getting more distant when moving towards her. Every time he’d try to reach out, she’d be just beyond his reach. It wasn’t that she was avoiding him; it was like she was floating, almost puppet-like in her movements, attached to invisible strings. His reaching out now started to become frantic attempts to chase after her. But yet again, every time he went to reach her, she’d just be out of reach again. The walls of the hall break apart, cracks infect the once pristine floor before the earth splits apart. People are screaming as they fall into the holes created by the ever-increasing magnitude.

What the fuck is going on. WhAT THE FUcK. NO. BabY. CoME BAcK. PlEASE.

The destruction continues, and the building itself starts breaking apart, swirling skywards in a vortex of brick and rubble. Strangely enough, as everyone plummets below into the unknown, she floats ever higher towards the now red sky. He desperately calls for her, but she only stares back, her once vibrant smile now met with a cold stare, an image which burned into his mind. And then, pure darkness.

“Please, let us know when you’re ready.”

A figure leaves, being ever so careful to close the door with minimal noise. Tentantively, slowly, she approaches the figure on the bed. His breathing is faint but noticeable, like one of a newborn child, vulnerable and needy. As she sits on the chair besides him, she speaks while she weeps:

“Fuck. Why did this have to happen to you? Why? I wish you were here, with me. Please just know, that it’ll be all over in a few moments. I am so sorry, baby. I have waited and waited for so long for you to come back, but the doctor has said it’s impossible, that it’s impossible for you to hear me, that you are not with us anymore. I have always believed you would come back, but I accept the reality now. Just know, I am proud to be your wife, always and forever. I just truly never saw this coming. I never thought something like this would happen but I swear that you will always be in my thoughts, my heart, my soul and you have made me truly grateful. I will see you soon, I love you”.


With a sigh of pity, the nurse turns off the switch to his life-support machine. Within moments, a frantic beep bellows within the hospital room. The soon to be widow is immediately filled with a heavy dose of regret. Bursting with emotion, she rushes to his side. The strong rational facade could not be acted out anymore. Rationality was out of the window, when all she wanted was him.

“ What the fuck?! NO. Baby… Come back… Please…I know you’re there…”

She knew these words meant little, though she did her best to keep the faith. She knew her efforts were valiant and noble, as regurgitated by so many of their friends and family. But she knew the words were pointless. She knew they’d never reach him. He died weeks ago. And that was the truth. She took the decision to pull the plug as an act of mercy, but she couldn’t help but feel like his executioner. The frantic beeps became less frequent, until one monotonous, dull tone was all the sound that filled throughout the room. Theirs was a marriage. Maybe one of many in terms of the grander scale of things. But it was something that they would always see as idiosyncratic compared to everyone else’s.


Did you figure out the Easter egg then? Did you? Didya didya? …Shit. Well, I guess it was a shite riddle after all.


Well, I’ll break it down for you in simple terms. The words which had the mixed case letters all make up the speech that the wife was giving him at the end of the story. While she was saying it, it actually came through in an abstract way, but by then it was too late. It was the whole sign of progression happening too late, raising the idea of what would have happened if her or the doctor’s were just that little bit more patient?

I mean, the friends I’ve showed found it generally sad initially until I explained the extra part, then they just got a little depressed at how deep I intended to take it.

…I mean, unexpected, BUT, definitely taking that as a +1 to my writing stats. I am now on 2.

Feedback would also be welcomed, feel free to slam or support it, I’m just curious to know. I can handle it, I’m a grown up.

Domo Arigato, Mr Roboto.

I think we need to talk about machines. They know our ways. It’s only a matter of time before Skynet actually happens. And then we’re fucked. All fucked. DOOMED, I TELL YOU. DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMED.

Well, ok I’m not quite at that stage yet. But I do think it’ll happen. It’s happening now in the most minute of moments. Placed in such a conspicuous place, that they’re actually hiding like the most skilled of ninjas.

And they are…

Self servicing machines at Tesco’s.

You heard me. It’s true, they’re getting too frigging intelligent and it took my mind to such a place where it made me wonder if I’m just overthinking way too much (as usual) or I’m onto something.

Let’s take last week for example. Did the scan of my £1 sandwich (Brexit, ennit), paid the dolla, get the receipt, and walk off.

Then it happened.

“TH4nK YOU 4 SH0PP1NG @T TESC0’5.”

And for that brief moment, before the complete wave of shame hit me, I was all, “awh, thanks”. I fucking responded to a machine in my head. I was having a conversation with an inanimate object. I took the bait. To. A pre-recorded message. With absolutely no emotional or living essence behind it. Fuck. Me.

Now, aside from the debilitating sense of misery and the now personally confirmed belief of my meaningless existence, I stepped back a sec, well, after the initial step back from the shock. The only essence of salvation was that I didn’t respond out loud. I mean, damn, if that happened I would’ve straight up called The Samaritans and begged them to work their magic.

Anyway, after the mental step back, it was rather worrying that for that brief moment, I was in a little bubble. And not that kind of bubble people make for themselves. And it made me wonder at how apparent this is in other places: Cashiers after a purchase at a store, machines ‘saying’ thank you when you exit a parking bay, card machines, and so on.

Now, I’m not saying that there needs to be more sincerity behind it or anything, that’s just being ridiculous. It’s more, “is there any point?”. Aside from that lapse in concentration which lead to the moment, there is genuinely no point at all in those thank you messages on machines existing. People behind the counter, yeah, of course, that’s the ideal manner in how you’d want to be treated as a respectful customer. But, why machines? I couldn’t care. I don’t think many people do and I think I speak for a fair few people in terms of both employees and customers that people want to get their shit, get in, get out, just get it over with. I’m aware employee and customer relations can be personal and fantastic, but you cannot deny that the above exists. Those are the things I’m on about right now. So, seeing as the person in the store and the customer effectively want the transaction to be quick as hell, and neither personally care for the other caring, why would they hell what the machine thinks? Even if the customer wanted a friendly service and was personally annoyed by the lack of it, will it evolve into a machine sending out a tissue and stroking them saying, “there there” in the most monotone of voices?

I’m just saying, it’s potentially a waste of electricity. And also because I still feel shame at the initial response to a machine. Sigh. I’ve been outdoorsy lately too.



I might as well talk about it. My support for Scar, the lion that made me realise from a pretty early childhood what reality is all about. I don’t particularly understand the hate for him. I mean, yeah, he killed Mufasa. But, I don’t think anyone to my knowledge has particularly tried to understand him. At all. I don’t condone what he’s done, but you can definitely see why he ended up the way he did, and yet he was vilified for it like he was a pawn for evil

But, the way I see it, it’s a classic case of situational circumstance which turned Scar the way he did. Did anyone nurture him? Did anyone try to understand before he switched? No. Utilitarian views are great and all for the most part, but, in some cases, people fuck up. Big time. We all still do.

Scar is the younger brother between him and Mufasa. Mufasa is older, better, stronger, more revered. Yet with a quick little background research, Scar was actually the more badass of the two. He was part of some Lion Guard and was gifted with effectively a super roar which only chosen people could have. This power was lost because he used it for evil rather than good. But this raises the point of chosen beings and superpowers. Usually characters like that are chosen for a reason, to keep it, to preserve it, to use it in times of need. Yet Scar was supposedly corrupted by the power and let it get to his head. In the grand scheme of things, whichever cosmic being decided that Scar was the next chosen one to possess that power, should be fired for their terrible allocation of responsibility.

But what if there were external factors? I mean, the way I see it, imagine being part of the front line to protect the rest of the pride from external threats, effectively risking your life on a daily basis to preserve peace. You grind away, thinking of your dreams to reach higher levels, more reverence, more acclaim. Then you rock up and you find out your older brother is ahead of you on the popularity and looks factor, by your own father no less. I don’t know about you, but I’d feel jilted.

I mean, we’ve been there in some format. One example would be the efforts that most of us would put in for work, but never personally feeling the praise we believe we should have got for our efforts. It makes some of us resentful, it makes others stop doing work altogether. And I think Scar was a part of these individuals. Would you find it easy to give a shit if the people you were trying to impress completely overlooked you?

And while we’re on about Scar, I’m just saying, he might be the weaker lion compared to Mufasa/Simba, but dude could hold his own pretty well. And in terms of physical appearance of which King of the Lions I wouldn’t want to fuck with, it’d definitely be Scar. I mean, the dude is called SCAR. He isn’t a stranger to laying the smackdown, even if he is overtly referenced as being a lion who relies more on cunning rather than strength. Plus, he has a black mane. THAT IS BEYOND BADASS.

All in all, the poor guy never seemed to have any love, and it’s been referenced that his father seemed to prefer Mufasa and pretty much everyone else. Simba seemed to get it by default and again, it was purely due to the popularity factor. I’m just saying, it doesn’t matter if he was a cub, it’s not very kingly for the cub to run away on a self-imposed exile. I mean… yeah, Scar kinda did fuck with him, but again, when you’ve been shunned consistently since birth by pretty much everyone. It’s hard to keep a moral stance on things.

The animal kingdom brought it on themselves. This is why bad things happen. Because a single entity gets singled out or scapegoated, everyone jumps on that bandwagon because other people believe it to be so. Instead of taking the step back and assessing what’s happened. It’s not like Scar was an egotistical prick because of progression as a member of the Royal Lion gang or whatever the fuck you want to call it. He became that because the dude never had any real affection, from anyone, ever. Not even Mufasa, who effectively saw him as a nuisance. Let’s not forget, Mufasa had his egotistical traits too.

Just makes me wonder, what would it had been like if Scar received the faith he evidently desperately wanted? Dude had more silky vocabulary than Mufasa did any day. Surely you’d prioritise an intellectual mind to be King in comparison the seemingly happy go lucky alternatives that were Mufasa and Simba?

Just goes to show, a bit of appreciation goes a long way. Hashtag Scar for life.


I wonder why wanting to better yourself is always the most difficult thing. For some people, it’s the easiest thing in the world, but more often than not, they always give the speech of it being easier as they try, with the first day\month always being the most difficult to chase the dreams for themselves.

Think about it, everyone has some kind of abject narcissism. Guys will either talk about how nice they are compared to others, or most of the time talk in a seemingly endless cycle of fake machismo; how they’d beat up this guy, how he’d, ‘get with her if he tried to’, how he’d beat your ass on FIFA 17. The ladies do it as well; the belief that one sentence on a social dating profile is more than enough to consider them unworthy, the other woman she dislikes is ‘looking hideous’, while her friends nod in tandem with their extroverted support, how she’s slaying her outfit for today and everyone else in comparison today just isn’t cutting it.

We’ve all done at least one of these things, except people be crammed in a line of a VERY LONG SPECTRUM. Please don’t bullshit me that you haven’t done something along these lines. We all have. By spectrum I mean that, some mentioned the above a joke, some mentioned it seriously. Some were more justified to use in the scenario at the time, some not. That kinda shit.

With all that being said, I go back to my first question. Why is it so hard for people to improve themselves? And I mean this on an introspective level. Let’s take a generic example. Someone will always say at some point (if not yourself), that:

“I wish I could have done this” or “I loved this but this and that got in the way and now I’m doing this”

I don’t get it. And I don’t get it either by being one of the many people who are going through this. That sense of aimlessness, even if there is a job involved, even if there is a partner in their life, even if they have their own place and are paying rent. If people are aware of this aimlessness, why the hell can’t they change it? It’s frustrating. It’s most likely a form of depression is involved. I am too, clinically approved *toothy grin*, but it just confuses me how we can state the narcissism based comments from earlier and at times, BELIEVE IT, but when it comes to wanting to chase another language they enjoyed, or increase their health by working out, pr seeing the genuine goodness and the shining influence they bring on other people, it’s impossible?

I looked into a video once, about a lady (forgive me for not referencing, but I’m not that kind of blogger. If I remember, I remember) who stated that the brain will literally try to fuck you up into anything that brings stress. Literally. Anything. She mentioned about wanting to speak in a group meeting as an example, where someone was hesitant about saying something and speaking up, and then the brain would instinctively react and be all, “woaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah nelly, slow down there” and shut you the fuck up. Fight or flight principle if you will.

That only confuses me more though, why would your brain fuck you up? I mean yeah, survival instinct, whatever. But surely the brain would see the overwhelming positives in grafting the body to effectively evolve in body and mind? I suppose why disclipline exists, I guess the universe or God, take your pick, wouldn’t make it that easy on you.

I’m in day 2 of my own discipline phase. I suppose where all these thoughts came about. It’s been pretty good. But this is the thing of where I am directing my confusion at, it’s day 2. I’ve wrote a long ass blog post again as a constant (and I’ve barely paused to think about what to type) stream. I’m wondering why the hell I found it so hard to not do this sooner. And I’m not talking last week. I’m talking 10 years ago. But I also wonder that I’ve been here before and crashed hard before being hit by what I call “The Wave”. Depression based, no further explanation necessary. It’s two incredibly different feelings. And you’d think, from an objective perspective, that on a logical perspective, experiencing both happiness and sadness will make you want to chase happiness more, but yet, a lot of us don’t. We go through the motions of personal borderline cosmic-wide vindication (see previous post if you need a reference…. Nuff said.)

Maybe it’s all part of the test that God has given us. Maybe it’s all chemically induced by the defense systems wired in our being and because of that, on a biological scale, we’re not fully adapted yet. A lot of us are wimps, let’s face it. Most of you will say you’re not, but how many of you have ghosted someone? That’s a form of it, at least to me. Then you got all the phobias, the lack of taking risk on a physical scale (e.g. doing a jump between a smallish gap between two rock pillars). I should reiterate that I don’t speak as someone who’s never been there. I’m speaking as someone who is still there, just, my mindset is better in this moment, and, I’m pretty stoked for that to be honest. I’m under no illusion though, the initial burst is always great, but the most difficult part is always the endurance of repetition of making time for what you enjoy.

Among all that gibberish (it was a continuous stream after all, no pauses and nothing edited. No idea why I say that like it’s cool) I suppose that even though there are probable reasons for the why it’s hard. I could never understand the how. How could the body sabotage itself like that? Take it with almost all animals for instance. No matter what, whether it’s a bad mother-fucker of its species, or the runt of the pack, each and every one of them will try to live, eat, fuck, chill and just generally stay alive in the process. It’s a constant state of chasing what is best for it, they what they want for the most part, and go with it. Circle of life ennit.

You’d think that having a honed mind as a human being would set us all apart from animals on an incredulous level in terms of constantly chasing after the best for what we want. Yet, it’s actually hindered us. We all have dreams and want for the best for ourselves and would take that life with no questions asked if it was possible. But that’s the thing, it is possible (cheesy). I don’t say this as some kind of pep talk, but if you have thought that then it’s basically in conjunction with the brain thing I mentioned before about fucking you up.

Makes this image hella relevant:


I suppose I’m saying that people should chase what they want more. Easier said than done, I’m well aware. But wouldn’t it be awesome to be in the universe where you’re the best version of yourself rather than someone else being that? Like some mellow version of Jet Li’s, ‘The One”. Though, that being said, if I learned martial arts out of nowhere against the ultimate evil version of me (which make me think that I should start killing alternate versions of me a little, and be the bad guy. Can’t lie, I always had a rapport with villains in general for some reason. RIP Scar, they just didn’t understand you.)

You should give it a shot, until your death. If you still hate yourself so bad, then frankly, you should torture yourself chasing your dreams over and over whilst failing a millions times. Then, when you reach your dreams, you just burn it all to the ground, if you really really still loathe yourself to that degree. Much better option than suicide, and way more agonisingly painful than suicide.

Whaddya know, guess it was a reverse pep talk after all.

Fuck it.

Keep chasing the stars folks.




A closing letter.

I never knew how to properly write this out for clarity. I still don’t. Every time I tried, it got visibly apparent that I do not particularly function well with loss, and it showed in a multitude of ways. My first post became progressively more angry; mostly at myself, and truth be told, at certain points, you. You are entirely blameless in all of this, but I realise my anger at you was a defensive mechanism to deal with it. Pride, if you will.

After the swift deletion of that one, I turned to my second post. And that one, to sum it up briefly, was a downpour of feelings that needed to be discarded. They do say that pain is weakness leaving the body after all. And I was weak, I still am. But that’s for later. If these feelings couldn’t serve its purpose of letting you know how much I valued your existence, then it quickly became toxic. What was the point of feeling these things if I couldn’t share them with you any more? It broke me. And there was no true culprit to blame apart from me. Despite hearing the support of my decision from friends and even family, it’s not enough.

I know what I have done, I have not forgiven myself for it. Despite my reasoning of taking a moral approach to the situation, I’m not as self loathing any more to say I never will, but I can say that I have no idea where to begin on how to forgive myself for it. I have accepted the consequences. Every action has a reaction, and this brings me to my third draft. Hopefully I will get to finish it this time. It’s not something I write with the hopes of you seeing this, but it’s something I write to receive the clarity I will never truly get. And why should I? You deserve to chase your happiness. Why would you listen to the ramblings of a past lover who never moved on 7 months later, despite ending it with you?

It’s strange. Ever since that day, I knew. I knew that the journey after the break up would lead to me taking much longer to move on than you would. That’s not to say it as a criticism; like I said, you deserve to chase your happiness. Call it romanticism, but I did hold on to the words of you declaring to me it will take a hell of a long time for you to move on from me. Not that it made me happy, but I never wanted you to suffer because of me. I think I made the mistake of holding onto those words. It effectively became my mantra.

Every day, I did not sleep, because my mind would relentlessly remind me of what I gave up. This is a woman who genuinely cared, who wasn’t deterred from my rather extroverted weirdness, who never turned away a hug or a kiss because she knew how much I valued her, who did the same thing to me too, even resorting to affection more than I, because we truly loved each other. She, a woman who laboured to bring social justice for all, not for glory or personal accolades, but because of her genuine concern for the well-being of others. I always did say that you completed me whenever there was a chance to hold you in my arms, it made me feel like I finally had a purpose every time you said it back.

Despite it ending, it never felt like the right thing to do, to end it, I mean. But it had to. For the sake of keeping peace, but there was always this feeling in my gut that while it was good for adhering to the moral compass, it was never good for me. It took me a long time to fight against cultural values, six months in fact. But I knew, from the first day up to then, it was you. It was always going to be you. And fuck my inability to act on this sooner, fuck culture, fuck keeping people on side when they never cared at all. So, I opened up to my mother about you. Not in finite detail, but it was a big thing to mention to my mother that I had loved and lost for the sake of keeping peace. I let you go for the sake of keeping peace. I never wanted to potentially be together years down the line only to fall at this hurdle, it was better to trip over it now. For your sake. I never expect you to believe me on that front, but I swear on all the positive memories we shared, it was all for your sake. Everything else added that was jargon; pointless filler to get to you to believe that the relationship was well and truly beyond all scope of redemption.

After sharing it with her, it surprised me to hear that my mother was hurting because I was hurting. And though she wasn’t filled with joy at the sharing of us, she was more supporting of chasing what made me happy, because that would make her happy. You were my happiness. I understand we all have to love ourselves and never let anyone take control of us, but, I don’t care. I could trust you with my happiness. I did. You never broke it. I self-sabotaged. It was weird, to hear my mother say that. I cried shortly after. Seems like ever since I had to walk away, crying has become incredibly easier now. That’s in testament to you, I will always hold you in permanent esteem for that, as you knew how hard it was to do it just the once. It was also strange that the tears were simultaneously caused by happiness and sadness. Happiness because I instantly started dreaming again: trying everything sincere in terms of actions to win you back, because I knew I broke your trust. Then introducing you to my mother with pride, saying how I’m officially happy for the first time in life, as I had someone to love me in my entirety, apart from my own mother. It made me feel that maybe I was lovable after all. I always assumed that mother’s have this unconditional love that would always be there for their child no matter what. Truth be told, though I made fun of you for suggesting we’d have children with wonderful skin tones… I started to believe in it too. It was an idea that grew on me, despite my initial “what the fuck” reaction. The sad side of the tears was a outburst of frustration that I acted too rashly, too swift, making the executive decision without even discussing it with you first. I still haven’t forgiven myself. I’m not entirely sure I want to. But I wanted to make this work despite my failings. I had renewed hope. I would be twice, no, three, no ten times the man you once viewed me to be. I remembered that day, when you said you would not move on so soon, because of the love you had for me. But I was worried immediately after. I was worried that you did move on. But it wasn’t the time to dwell on that. I had to let you know regardless. I did not know then what would have happened. But, I found out soon enough.

It was wonderful to hear you say that you missed talking to me when I reached out. It was bliss to hear your voice, your excitement to want to meet and catch up. It’s very likely I was lost in the moment, but I started dreaming more after that conversation. The whole conversation was most likely very civil, but you never gave the impression that I was a burden contacting you. And for that, I am thankful to you.

But the worst case scenario did actually happen. You were dating again. You wanted to try again, with someone else. It was a sucker punch out of the blue. I think we both knew it once you said it. You asked me how I felt, and irrespective of my wishes to not answer that because I could only regurgitate that you are entitled to live your life the way you wish (I meant that, and I still do), you wanted to know how it made me feel. To this day, I still cannot figure out if you asked that out of concern for my feelings, or if it was asked to provide some sort of riposte for me ending things between us. I do not know, either option was perfectly justified to me. We agreed I needed some time apart, for me to move on. But, it wasn’t going to happen. As you would know, I went to Austria to clear my head a little. Nature always calmed me down and helped me think. And even then, I still thought of you. It wasn’t enough. I couldn’t accept it, I felt like I didn’t fight for us hard enough, so lo and behold, attempt number two happened after a period of time. Long story short for the readers, that didn’t work either, she was actually in a relationship with someone else this time. And frankly, despite writing everything in detail just as much I am nowhere near to writing everything I feel, I still cannot bring myself to write about it.

It’s taken a long time to admit it to myself, but, it’s happened. It made me think of all the other loaded questions that comes with love starvation. When did you move on? Was it immediately after I broke up? How could you lie to me about not moving on when you were aware that I do not lose people from my thoughts so easily?

Before any readers interrupt, I am aware these questions are not justified to think about and comes from a source of unwarranted pride. I never confronted her about this, or have spoken to anyone about this. I respected her wishes. Just go with the thought stream.

Regardless, I have backed off. It’s your life, you deserve your happiness. It’s a hard fact to take to accept that I am not that person that you will share that journey with. I’m sorry that I turned out to be a bad lesson for you, it truly was never my intention. But know this, I will always support you. It’s been a genuine privilege walking by your side as your former lover. I’m glad you understood that I need to retreat and lick my wounds for now. I trust in you stating that you want to remain in contact after I get through this, though we are both evidently aware that it will not be for a long time. I must recover for me, just as you went through the journey realising that your life goes on. I must do the same thing, irrespective of what my head and heart tells me. I do not want to be toxic to you, and I do not want to be toxic to myself any more.

I did not write this for you to ever see it (and a little relieved you never will) but I’m glad I had the chance to get some of my thoughts out for once. It’s been pent up for quite a while. I have every faith that you will thrive, you are meant to provide change to the world. I’ve always felt this. As the old adage goes, if you love someone, you got to let them go, right?

This will be the last time I will ever mention you, on here, to anyone, to myself. I’ll always have that pang of wondering how you are. But I will not even consider speaking to you, for both our sakes. I just sincerely hope that once I have repaired myself, no, improved, that we can communicate and have a real friendship.

Patience is the key, for me, for you, in life working out the way it will for the both of us. I’m a firm believer of everything happens for a reason. I’m not the best of people who devotes himself to God despite my faith, but I still hope, I really hope God lets us meet again to benefit each other in a mutual and respectful friendship.

My feelings must change into something else, this kind of love I have now, it needs to go and for the first time, probably helped by typing this, I wholeheartedly accept this. I realise that it benefits nobody. I just have to go through the motions I guess. I hope that things in your new relationship are still going well, and if not, that you do find someone who devotes themselves to you the way you deserve to be.

 I can accept that it might not happen, but I do hope friendship can be salvaged. I love you, and trust that you continue to take control of your life and accept nothing less than success in whatever you chase. I hope to see you on the other side once this is all done with. I really do.