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.