Writing to Reach You

What's been going on? People keep asking me that, and peering at me closely, as if I've upped and left to Uraguay a few weeks and I'm trying to act as if everything is normal. Well, firstly, I've dropped my counselling sessions. It wasn't going anywhere, but I was thinking of the best metaphors - depression debt, which links to my Salesmen and other ones. But metaphor is good for guile: what did I care? How was she helping? I felt I was just reporting things. It didn't feel as if I was actually getting anywhere. So...I'm on my own. I'm a bit down right now cos I've had a good day and I can't feel my fingers, and I'm really tired. It's been one of those get up and go days, but its also been a day of discovery, and not really learning much at all.

Today was the conference in the University of London on the Iliad. I wanted to go and get away from college life, which is increasingly lonely (so many acquaintances and nope, no real friends.). And as the day approached I was more and more grateful. I hadn't had a proper breakfast this week - I haven't been going to bed early enough and sleeping in instead. And I was up till midnight working on my classics and up at five to carry it on. I then handed in both things on Tuesday afternoon, writing a total of 6,000 words. I needed today. Things started off well. I fell asleep watching TV and I was late looking for my Haruki Murakami (Norwegian Wood) - amazon link. So, without lunch, sanity or organisation I stumbled into the station's snadwich sop. And was amazed. You could get a bacon sandwich - brown sauce and all - for £1.40 - a world away from £2.10 for an egg mayonaise sandwich. So I ordered a crispy bacon/cheese/tomato ketchup sandwich for £1.90, much to the cute lady's reply.

I went to Senator's house, near Russel Square (opposite the backend of British Museum), a little late but I didn't miss much. We started with this lecturer from Durham Uni and she was really cool - all pronounciated (clear/concise - I'm sure pro... is a word)...I was there to be with acquaintance who were so close to being friends, but they don't even know I'm gay - they talk about Johnny Depp and Jude Law all the time. And I've got a crush on Nana, the gorgeous size 14 Tim Wheeler lover. And we all went out shopping afterwards. I really liked it, forsaking non-urgent Childrens Express duties and hanging with Nana, Amy and Adela. Things felt worthwhile, but I still felt down. Right now, I feel really shit, because I've just had an exhausting week, my brother has had his usual 18 hour week of lectures, and then calls me lazy for not taking the bins out. I am ready to cry. I'd rather drink, or binge, or throw up (I've being doing the last two this week. When do people become bulumic?). But being chronically unhappy, I just have to, you know, stiff upper lip and all that bullshit. Cut. I'll smile in the morning.

Oh, I'm crying. I'm just so tired - the coursework, and there's my english coming up, and that has to be really strong because I know my classics was shit and I need to make it up. I need to get my A's. I have to do my politics for Monday. I need to be perfect dammit! The college, the universe, asks for nothing less. I need a drink.

Whats the problem?

As in Stereophonic's brilliant new single, Dakota: "Thinking is due."

Things to decide:

Am I going to let myself slide into bulumia - properly - at last?

*

Do I go to the psychiatrist for counselling?

*

Do I stop drinking?

*

Who do I talk to?

*

How do I get over my poetic writing block?

*

How am I going to earn more money?

*

Where do I get "arm bands" for the summer?

*

How do I trust again?

*

Should I take part in this self harm documentary?

*

Shall I see what all the fuss is about razor-blades?

*

How do I stop crying before my brother comes back down?

*

How do I stop crying?

*

Why am I never pretty when people say I am?

*

Whats wrong with me?

*

Am I ever going to see Alice again?

*

Am I ever going to see Ria again?

*

Will I ever go dancing?

*

When will I ever go out on a date and NOT get dumped/sacked/stood up

*

Which uni do I go to?

*

Am I, ultimately, a failure?

*

Who am I?

Who to reach, how to reach it and why. Do you get me? I'm writing, to reach people, to reach myself, but right now I'm getting nowhere, and I still don't know what to do. I'm sick of drifting...I'm sick of myself and I just want to smash, cut, bleed, sleep, die, crush-be crushed. I don't know. It's not much. And I think, to a degree, everyone thinks this, don't they? Every student, every office worker, every alcoholic, smoker, every charity shop worker, every celebrity, all bloggers, artists, musicians, parents, everyone. Are you as sick as drifting as I am?

Think about it:

Home is where your heart is,

But your heart had to roam,

Drifting over bridges,

Never to return,

Watching bridges burn...

You’re driftwood floating underwater

Breaking into pieces, pieces, pieces.

Just driftwood hollow and of no use,

Waterfalls will find you, bind you, grind you,

(Travis)

Escape. Jump on a bus, or a train, a tram, storm out of the house/college/school/internet cafe. Get out of here, and away until you start to look back, and walk for about another 10 minutes. You'll find something interesting - even if its interesting in its blandness. Every time. Sigh. No more tears.