I have decided to come back to Master Bracknell, as I believe it's the only place where I can write about my life! I feel I can blabber on and on as much as I like and be brutally honest, and I really love blogger, and I really miss its down to earth no nonsense... I could go on... but I just googled myself for no apparent reason and the only thing that comes up is a picture of myself posted on this blog somewhere a few years ago. Looking back now, the photo is pretentious and stupid, and it seems ridiculous that THAT photo comes up as the only proof of my online existence. Anyway, got reading old blog, fell back in love, realised the feel, the style, the comedy, the creativity, the longevity of it all... and feel like it's an old friend, and that I have so much to tell that friend, and that's what I am doing, here I am telling you what's been up (and down) and that after a few mistakes, I will carry on writing here.
Firstly, I want to say, that one of the reasons why I am returning is because I've not always been so down on here, and it's instantly given me a lift that I can write here. I am turning a corner of a horrible part of this year as we speak. My posts on here aren't always as harrowing as my life has been at the time. I feel almost compelled to write comically about some of the worst experiences of my life lately. In fact, it makes it easier to address. But, I recently re read Estelle's old LiveJournal, and got in touch with Estelle, we spoke on the phone, and she just seemed completely indifferent to me, distracted, uninterested. Completely. When I mentioned the comfort and laughs I get from reading her old LiveJournal she just seemed annoyed, and when the offer to write to her in Abu Dhabi was made, she was actually quite rude to me. So I feel the nostalgia of her LiveJournal is now no longer a contender to my wonderful journal, my Master Bracknell.
Secondly, and I realise this now as the words flow out, I have the flair here, and the positivity. I feel inspired to carry on and write. I feel maybe it's because I am not entirely sure who reads it on blogger, where as on tumblr and LiveJournal and WordPress you have people following you and hash-tags are important and networking seems to be the only reason, it seems that I was reading a lot more of other people's depressing lives, and didn't know whether I wanted to or not, and whether the recognition I was seeking was genuine or not, whether I was just being influenced by social media and blogging for the reason of being known. Maybe also that the screen is so WHITE on blogger makes me feel happier. I actually NEED to write, always, and made a couple of blogs between the time of my last entry and now, but I addressed my life in a way which was awful, I was writing shit poetry which I never do and I was basically 'coming clean' in a way that one does at a narcotics meeting. There was no forward movement in the writing, and if i didn't want to read what I'd just written then no one else would too, would they?
Thirdly, I think its been enough time now to carry on writing here without certain people reading up on my life. I don't want to know if they are, so if you know that I no longer speak to you and you are reading this now, then I do not want to know. Do not contact me, let me have this please, it means a lot, but I want to write and wont feel like writing here if you comment or make it known that you are still about. It bothers me, and after what Ive been through lately, I think I deserve at least this.
The last time I wrote was 2nd July, and I was at the false start point of a period of time I refer to as my 'recovery'...
After what can only be described as one of the most damaging and bizarre experiences of my life, I lingered at my parents, no job and no place of my own, and there's, a small flat in a hell town called Dickens Heath, was somewhere none of us wanted to be. Unhappy with their mistake, me unhappy with the cunts upstairs, we sold the flat and started renting a small house in a place called Oakenshaw near Redditch. It's a vast improvement, and my parents are already on the verge of buying a new house in the nicer area known as Callows Hill. I am no longer planning on moving away, until I am healthy, happy and can afford it. The last 8 weeks or so have been extremely fun and yet been extremely damaging. I have not recovered like I intended to, and the damaging effects of my experience with Steve effected me psychologically more than I thought. Certain friends became cause for my concern, with their own problems, yet I felt impotent because I couldn't be there for all of them, despite my own problems becoming more and more destructive.
During this summer I spent a lot of time bonding with Wiggy, and we went to Brighton, London and numerous nights out in Birmingham. I however let my drug problem escalate to one of it's highest points, and so I guess that with a certain amount of good comes a certain amount of bad, and the bad really did hit me hard, physically and mentally.
The bad involves a lot of rejection or feelings of rejection, and a lot of things from the past this year haunt me still, like the caring for Steve experience and the aspect of dying. Then there was the betrayals at work still poisoning my memory, losing friends from past and present, and recently, an incredibly violent sexual encounter I suffered which nearly put me in hospital and thus highlighted the ironic situation of my dysfunctional sex life. My drug problem hit a all time low when 2 weeks ago I literally passed out from not being able to function any further, due to endless days of not sleeping, drinking or eating. I lost over a stone in weight, and my hair started to fall out. Whole days, weeks have zipped by like minutes, and I've watched myself deteriorate outside and in.
Being back at home is a forced rehab. I know when things get bad because I tell my mother everything. It's going to be hard to say no to Wiggy a lot more but lack of funds and hopefully a job responsibility soon will make it easier to resist social pressures and temptations. I've been incredibly ill, due to the abuse I put myself through, the wandering around in London in the rain for 4 hours, the drugs, the dehydration. I haven't left the house much and have been in bed a lot. I am regaining my strength, and vow not to touch Mcat, or MDMA or cocaine again. I don't want to ever experience a hangover again, but I do want to smoke weed. Cigarettes are so-so. For someone with such a hunger for drugs, who can go past most people's limits, it's surprising how cigarettes seem so take or leave to me.
My brother is back from Hong Kong, but is going back on the weekend, I got to see him a bit, and he seemed keen to help me in the research of writing screenplays, as I think this is the thing (along with acting) that is predicted as my surprising hobby that pays off at the end of the year. Something filmy anyway. I don't want to overwhelm this post now any further, so will update during the week with future plans, and other stories from the past 8 weeks, that involve an American, meeting a new yet dysfunctional guy, Greg, emotional traumas and revelations of the future!
No comments:
Post a Comment