Chapter 11 No Future

It’s New Year’s Eve a typical news years night in my lonely schizoid life. No raucous party no frequenting night clubs no prolonged period of public inebriation or social interaction. I have no friends i have a vacant private life devoid of meaningful human connection. Consequently i spend New Year’s Eve as a sad pathetic thirty something in complete isolation completely sequestered from the human race. Usually on this evening i abstain from any consumption of alcohol. On seldom new years eves i will partake in a copious volume of strong alcohol when I’m in a less melancholic mood.

For most people New Year’s Eve is a buoyant celebration of being alive of being in love. A time of sanguine hope for the future in which individuals make optimistic resolutions for the year ahead. However with me just like Christmas its a deeply depressing time of the year. When my glaring lack of human contact of emotional connection is revealed to myself and my odious family in this arduous holiday season.

On New Year’s Eve I ruminate introspect at the lack of direction the futureless life i am leading. There are dark suicidal thoughts circulating in my damaged mind. I have no reason to be alive no discernible purpose no future just a blank void a forlorn existence. This night which is a tragic encapsulation of my empty life a night which usually transpires with me having no interaction whatsoever with another soul. I spend New Year’s Eve completely sober with not a singular drop of blissful alcohol landing on my salivating tongue. I prefer to be a social contrarian and abstain from all the traditional New Year’s Eve festivities.

I remain alone apart from the world in my private flat preferring immensely the solitude over protracted partying with a large group of vexatious strangers. I close all the curtains turn off all the lights for the remainder of the nights celebration. Hoping my doing this i create the false illusion that I’m out enjoying the night with my friends hoping my neighbours will see I have a modicum of a social life. I’m so self conscious of not being regarded as a loser who eschews the joyous hedonistic pursuits of the night that I perpetuate the facade that i spend the night in complete darkness until 2 in the morning. After 2 i assume its socially acceptable to be inside your private residence that most people are home at this hour.

In a usually sober evening i will either watch a escapist movie or play for hours a absorbing immersive video game. The video game allows me to briefly escape the terminal loneliness of being schizoid being entirely unable to form vital human connections.

On sporadic instances i open up my curtains to observe the New Year’s Eve nighttime panorama. I glimpse a glorious scenery of neon lights a iridescent town landscape filled with ebullient people feeling exalted feeling alive. Whereas I’m a emotional dead outcast imprisoned in my haunted flat with only myself and i for company. A sad frail man with a pallid complexion and a gnarled features. I look in the mirror on New Year’s Eve against my better judgement. I observe in the mirror a grotesque visage a listless creature devoid of colour. A sad tired broken man unable to relate to people who for years he’s been disassociated from the human race.

On this night all my flaws the ordeal of being schizoid are magnified in this one desolate night. Midnight comes around I’m still sober not a drop of alcohol has entered my emaciated adult body. I hear a cacophony of fireworks being ceremonially let off to commemorate the birth of a new year. On television celebrations are depicted with millions of people congregating in major cities across the globe as my loneliness my lack of purpose is elucidated on this New Year’s Day.

On the embarkation of another year i lay down on my bed. In my dingy pitch black bedroom listening to somber classical music as tears slowly trickle down my face as i am faced with the wretchedness of my life. In this depressed state my usually emotional numbness is transformed into private theatrical displays of despair. I cry and ruminate at the person i could have been the friendships I squandered due to my injurious antisocial behaviour. Mainly though I contemplate through the despair about peter about the relationship that we could of fostered. I fantasise About getting drunk getting high and engaging in carnal pleasures with a alluring figure of my past. Peters vivid memory ceases to leave me its embedded in my psyche, in these times when I’m suicidal during the holiday season I constantly think about him. The lost opportunity the neglected friendships my lonely present all these dejected regretful thoughts sank me deeper into a cavernous depression.

The new year the holiday season and birthdays are where my depression my negative personality traits become more prevalent in my abnormal personality. Birthdays and the new year festivities are stark reminders of my mortality the terminal emptiness of my prosaic life. These significant calendar events remind of how little i have achieved throughout the year how meaningless my life has become. The new year a birthday a passing of a year another year closer to oblivion with my body becoming more hideous with each passing year. My face looks tired old with wrinkles grey hairs are appearing on my ageing hairline. My yellowed teeth that appear more grotesque more decayed with each passing year. I’m too petrified to rectify my gnarled deformed fangs due to my aversion my fear of seeing a dentist and my pernicious social anxiety which precludes me from venturing outside of the sanctuary of my private enclave. On New Year’s Day in the early hours of the morning when the my tears have dried when the desolation has subsided i look at my pallid visage in my only mirror in my bathroom. I view this languid despondent creature with a question that lingers in my damaged psyche. A question of why am i still hurt why do i carry on existing what my purpose in this godless inhumane universe. The depression is most acute in these periods of the year when I’m confronted with my perennial loneliness with how much of a alien freak cast out by humanity I’ve become. The severe pain eventually dissipates and is replaced by a numbness. Rather than seeking the psychological ameliorating help of a therapist or confiding with a family member i repress the pain. Never expressing a iota of my suicidal inclinations to another soul. I assuage my suicidal predilections by escaping into a big blue inner dream land that helps me to escape the agony of being schizoid.

The depression has been a part of me since i was a teenager. As my atypical schizoid symptoms have become more endemic in my dysfunctional mind the depression has concurrently intensified. As i push away family as I neglect pivotal friendships let important people vanish forever from my vapid life my untreated clinical depression has exacerbated. I abstain from any form of real human contact preferring to exist as a hermit apart from when i travel back and forth to my menial job at TWC. As I exclude more people from my life as i found myself dissociating from humanity. The terminal depression the alienation the emotional numbness that masks the pain has grown more severe. My inertia is only broken with these contractually mandated visits to the TWC warehouse when i at least speak to a few coworkers. At TWC i often find myself fantasising about never having to leave my humble abode to me completely sequestered from any form of human contact.

In protracted depressed states everyday blends into another. Other humans vapid conversations sounds to me like a white noise as my life is experienced in slow motion as i devolve into a limbo purgatory existence. My life of isolation hasn’t alleviated these desolate feelings I haven’t found any real solace in prolonged solitude. The anxiety the melancholia has heightened in my self imposed solitary confinement from the human race.

I walk to work its the same boring route the same dirge day after day. It’s soul destroying its mind numbingly dull there’s no vitality no effervescence in my employment in my life. At work i adopt this robotic detached mask never smiling rarely conversing. Never divulging my private psychological torment to another soul. To be vulnerable to break this frosty exterior is now in my entrenched schizoid disorder virtual impossible. At work i disappear into a seductive fantasy terrain preferring to spend 8 hours daydreaming then interact with my fellow employees. I never broke character never displayed a modicum of emotion in the stultifying ambience of the warehouse. Being so aloof is a way of protecting my fragile personality from my perceived callousness of their people who would deride me for showing a morsel of emotional vulnerability.

Being this damaged unable to express my inner emotions is a horrendous way to live. The terminal loneliness the boredom the desperation to connect to find some affinity with anybody. It’s a vicious cycle of being schizoid of needing solitude that helps to mitigate the anxiety but discovering the endless solitude only results in a deterioration in my psychological condition.

There are moments of assuagement in my life where the black dog of depression evaporates with transient moments where i feel like a valid human being instead of a weird alien visiting from a distant planet. In my private enclosed kingdom i consume a abundant quantity of alcohol which helps to pacify my normal gloomy disposition. The alcohol the sporadic use of a illicit substance enables my body and soul to temporarily escape my harsh reality. These drugs dull the pain of being trapped in a debilitating personality disorder.

Alone in my flat away from the prying eyes of the world i escape online into the virtual reality matrix. I interact with the world anonymously on twitter a social media platform i can express freely my opinions on a myriad of intriguing subjects. On twitter I prolifically opine my thoughts finding the anonymity liberating not being encumbered by the panic attack inducing anxiety of direct in person interaction. Online i never divulge my battle with depression my suicidal propensities. Even with the protective security of twitter with conversing with strangers I will never via a pseudonym twitter avatar find me discussing expressing my mental illness. On twitter I’m able to find these superficial meets of validation of actually conversing with strangers from distant locations. Other twitter users like my tweets follow me. On this one social media platform i am able to use because of the ability to be anonymous the loneliness briefly subsides. As I discover a scintilla of self worth on this addictive social media application

On drunken nights when I’m emancipated from he drudgery the moil of warehouse employment. I discover these fleeting moments of emotional validation of human connection of sexual penchants being fulfilled. In the mire of my self imposed ostracism from society i have discovered the allure of online webcam girls. A form of direct online interaction where my depraved sexual fantasies can be satisfied. Online sex workers for a price indulge my sexual fetishises. When I have plucked up enough courage when i am sufficiently intoxicated with alcohol I converse with breathtakingly beautiful women. Women who I’d never have the moxie to talk to in the flesh. In the seductive domain of online webcam my personal sexual desires to be dominated to be humiliated by a powerful voluptuous dominatrix can be realised. I have held these unexpressed unsatisfied fantasies to be controlled to be a sexual subservient to a domineering sadistic women. Women who can satisfy my depraved sexual appetites for a exorbitant price.

There is a cornucopia of women available and a variety of options in how you can communicate with these desirable women. You can chat via messaging these women or by chatting to them via your own personal webcam where the cam girl can actually see you. I prefer to be humiliated through the safety and seclusion of online messaging that obscures my hideous physical appearance. In this private method of communication with a online sex worker i find a morsel of validation of recognition of my humanity. Even if the cam girl is viciously abusing me in the bdsm sexual role play it validates me as a human being. I discover a person in this transactional relationship is willing to speak to me willing to be a solitary witness a light in the darkness of my alienated life.

On rare moments of drunken excess where i drink alone i have called sex hotlines where I discover a greater level of intimacy of human connection. I call at the apex of my inebriated state when i has amassed enough courage to converse with a dominatrix but am still lucid enough to carry on with a conversation. I mainly call specialists phone sex services which specialise in my preferred bdsm fetish and when I speak it’s with a dominatrix who is adept in satisfying my depraved degenerate sexual desires. The women can hear my sad frightened voice there is this form of communication a more substantive level of intimacy. A sex worker who is a temporary beam of light that briefly illuminates my isolated alien existence. Yes i am masturbating to a exorbitantly expensive femdom via a mobile phone connection however its gratifying to speak to hear a human voice that pierces through the hollowed out sadness of my forlorn adult life. A transactional conversation that’s validates my humanity that for a transient moment lifts me out of my own valley of despair. A brief inter communication which helps to palliate my long term dual mental illness of depression and schizoid personality disorder.

Despite the various solitary activities in which I participate with other anonymous individuals online through twitter and interacting with sensuous alluring camgirl getting intoxicated with a variety of drugs by mental health remains in a bleak state. These solitary activities conducted from my dank isolated flat provide a instant gratification. A momentary abatement from the relentless torture of my wilderness existence being completely ostracised from the human race. On twitter in camgirl sessions In which i fervently engage in i still conceal my suicidal tendencies. There’s no real creative outlet that can adequately articulate the depths of my severe depression. Writing poetry short stories isn’t enough to heal the pain even if writing effusive poetry can give me a visceral feeling helping to release the repressed pain. Going to therapy seeking the salutary help of a qualified professional is out of the question due to the social hindrances of being schizoid. The paralysing social anxiety and my deeply introverted personality makes speaking to a councillor or therapist a impossibility.

On one fateful night when i had been afflicted with a protracted bout of critical suicidal depression for many months I discovered a new cathartic outlet for my mental anguish. In the midst of another weekend alcoholic binge i was seriously contemplating killing myself i found by chance the ecstasy of self mutilation. It was a desperate act i undertook to make myself feel something even if it was excruciating physical pain, physical pain that was a manifestation of my repressed emotional torment.

The genesis of my self harm began in the early hours of a Sunday morning. After almost a entire day of unrestrained alcohol induced annihilation in a drunken stupor I smashed a pint glass on my kitchen floor. The pint glass separated into a million of individual fragments there was one chard which was perfect for a masochistic act of mutilation. On this night i was paralytic in such a state by delirious intoxicated mind was fragile enough to partake in a self destructive act. I had always been curious about self harm how it would feel having these lacerations on your body a physical manifestation of my suppressed depression. On my induction in to the world of self mutilation rather than take a final fatal act towards oblivion I had concluded to experiment with self harm. I grabbed hold of the glass fragment which was the requisite shape and sharpness to lacerate my emaciated skin. The glass chard i was holding with my hand shacking with nervous trepidation would hopefully leave a discernible mark a physical piece of evidence of my masochistic act. The piece of glass was in my hand that was shaking with nervousness anticipation at how committing self harm would feel. I was hypothesising whether self harm would break open the dam of suppressed emotions of this act would evoke a feeling of euphoria. Slowly and deliberately I drove the chard of glass into my skin as the sharp glass pierced through my ashen scrawny arm. The glass hit my skin perfectly lacerating my hand as blood flowed from the self inflicted wound. I produced several perfect lacerations on my underarm. All the wounds were deep cuts as a profuse volume of blood emanated from the fresh wounds. In this paralytic early morning drunken frenzy the gashes on my arm register not as excruciating pain but as a ecstatic elated feeling. For once in my vapid empty inconsequential life i felt alive. The numerous lacerations to my arm the blood the piercing of the skin was a way of expressing my prolonged subterranean pain. There was no other outlet that satiated my desire to elucidate my unheard silent screams of anguish. No other vehicle of creative expression that i was able to adroitly articulate my suicidal predilections to the world. With every single piercing of the skin from a dangerously sharp object my damaged decrepit body and soul was transformed into a blissed out euphoric state. With a cathartic night of mutilation I’m able to exorcise the demons to feel like a human being for a few hours.

The following day i awake with a mild hangover and arms seething in excoriating pain. The alcohol which dulled my senses allowed me to harm my arms with a minimal pain had worn off. The deep lacerations i made in the apex of my inebriated delirium now in the sober light of the morning rendered by body in agony. The pain was a reminder of the pain of depression a physical reminders of my psychological torture. Rather than abstain from self harm or take powerful opiate painkillers i let my body fully experience the agony. The wounds are a constant visual demonstration of being perennially depressed a demonstration of my isolation of seeing myself as a deformed subhuman creature. These visible lacerations that will hopefully form into scars will remain as deep cuts on my arms for weeks until they healed into scar tissue. A visual metaphor for my untreated mental illness.

Even though its a visual metaphor of being caged in unexpressed psychological suffering i resolve to keep my self harm wounds a secret. For weeks after a night of masochistic mutilation I wear long sleeved shirts concealing the visual cries for help. Nobody can know my suffering my injurious behaviour. Strangers would only excoriate would chastise my abnormal troubling behaviour. I want my psychological torment to remain private, proclaiming it to the world with other humans would cause me to being vulnerable. I can’t abide letting the protective mask of aloofness slip to reveal a sad damaged adult.

I have maintained this pernicious habit of self harm for years as I’ve been enclosed in extreme isolation. It’s a masochistic purging of my demons when I’m experiencing the overwhelming urge to end my life and vanish into nothingness. The self harm is a desperate therapeutic act that conveys my decent into the abyss. It’s inconceivable that I will ever divulge my dark suicidal thoughts to another human to trained professional who may aid my recovery from a prolonged depressed state. The unburdening of my agony is unachievable with my schizoid personality who’s doesn’t possess the emotional intelligence to explain lucidly my pain. Poetry or any form of writing which i have habitually committed to delineating my thoughts on daily basis isn’t a sufficient method to articulate my mental illness. Cutting myself scaring my arms my body several times a year as I experience a physical and spiritual bliss followed by weeks of agony. Reminds me i am a human that still emits a flicker of light.

In my short insipid life there have been episodes when the depression has been all consuming overwhelming to the point when suicide seems the logical option. As the symptoms of being schizoid have become more prevalent in my asocial personality the bouts of black dog depression have become increasingly brutal and protracted. Now it lasts for months at a time where everyday i wake up with a crushing sense of dread a constant ache in my soul. Waking up not wanting to leave my protective secure bed to face a indifferent cold world. Being held captive by this illness this unrelenting pain that swirls around my consciousness. There’s no abatement in the misery of being so alone having nobody to talk about my suicidal inclinations with.

Then one day you arise from your blissful slumber and discover you cant survive any longer living with this cancerous illness that is infecting your body. On this particular day when the pain felt like acid in the pit of my stomach i survey my surroundings the bleakness of my secluded living quarters. I look at the same dingy stained walls the worn out furniture. There’s no colour no vivaciousness in my decor in the atmosphere of my haunted enclave. Lethargically i wander to the bathroom look for minutes at this those like visage in the mirror. I see a grim deformed creature with hollow cheeks and a haunted vacant expression. Teeth gnawed and deformed eyes that are bloodshot red no beauty in my ravaged face I’m ashamed to look at my bedraggled weary appearance. Today i have surmised will be my last day on planet earth. No more existing no more consuming oxygen i will get to experience the sweet release of physical eradication from a planet I don’t belong to. There’s nothing in my life on this day that is preventing me from sustaining this meagre hollow life no reason to exist any longer. No hope if love or friendship on my bleak futureless future only the dirge of a robotic emotionless prosaic life. On this fateful day i have decided to terminate my life with a brutally painful method of slashing my puny wrists with a sharp blade of glass. The same piece of glass i use to scar to lacerate my arms in a pure act of masochistic desecration of my limbs.

Today is a Saturday therefore I don’t have the ordeal of facing the outside world. I don’t have to endure the moil the drudgery of another 8 hours in purgatory at the TWC warehouse where i perform menial but pointless tasks for the benefit of a amoral corporation. A day off from work hence i set in motion a day of excess of uncontrolled alcoholic intake. I want to numb my senses before the act of self execution is controlled on my frail body. I drink heavily over the course of the day drinking from the moment i awake as i knock back shots of whisky and rum. Occasionally mixing the potent shots with coke that elicits one last euphoric interaction before i severe my vital arteries.

For weeks I have been contemplating ending my life and rigorously planing the fateful date of my suicide. I’ve planned today meticulously planning every hour every minuscule detail to the drugs i will be ingesting to the music which will be the soundtrack to my suicide. I had arranged in my mind to commit suicide to render my sacred body lifeless by slitting my wrists in the most violent bloody method of suicide. I envisioned this grisly macabre scene of my mangled mutilated corpse being discovered after weeks maybe months of decomposition. When I die nobody would notice by absence no soul would darken my inhospitable door. This sad vision of my demise with a rotten corpse with blood on the walls from the severing of a vital artery. With my ravaged body after I successful kill myself was one a person with hopes with a bright auspicious future that was crushed by being stricken with a socially debilitating personality disorder. This grisly vision of the end of my life was played out endlessly in my fatalistic imagination. A imagination that romanticised suicide that by killing myself tragedy all alone my life would find some poignancy some meaning.

On this fateful day which i had been meticulously planning for weeks i hit shot after shot of whisky which was mixed with coke. The coke helped to soothe to mitigate the harshness of highly potent shots of whisky enabling a copious devouring of alcohol throughout this fateful day. As i was gradually getting intoxicated as my senses were being dulled by the alcoholic cocktail i played the entire discography of joy division. The bleak suicidal music reverberated across the confines of my humble flat. The music blared at a thunderous volume the haunting sounds of joy division penetrated the thin walls of my flat till the point I’m certain neighbours could clearly hear the music. Joy division was my favourite band who seminal music comforted me in dark lonely times. Their music encapsulated what it feels like to be alone to be lost in the wilderness of clinical depression.

Whisky and rum was ingested with fervency as i was cognisant this was my last opportunity to get drunk. The alcohol pulsated through my bloodstream numbing my pain receptors. The time was fast approaching my own personal doomsday clock for my life was slowly running out. I was though apprehensive about carry out the fatal deed to be nothing more than a fading memory. There was doubts floating in my intoxicated feverish mind. All week i had been desperately searching for a reason to carry on existing. Hoping for a glimmer of light to enter the dark caverns of my tortured soul. A kind receptive conversation a smile a hug a shared joke a random act of kindness any of these things would dissuade me from killing myself. I searched diligently in my life over the week for a morsel of humanity from the outside world I searched for a scintilla of compassion in this frosty indifferent world. There was no hope no love only abject misery from me as I found no flickers of light nothing to preclude from committing a injurious act. As the week progressed I became cognisant that i was better off dead that not a single soul cared for me. That i was effectively a phantom wandering through the world having no discernible impact on the human race. All i am now is a living gollum creature waiting to become extinct to become worms food leaving being no permanent legacy no joyous memories.

With these desolate introspections on my pathetic inconsequential life i surmised i was better off dead than to carry on consuming oxygen. The end was nigh it was midnight when I had a arranged according to my suicide itinerary to slit my wrists. The alcohol had substantial dulled my senses as I mixed more alcohol this time with powerful addictive codeine painkiller. The painkiller medication had elicited a ameliorating side effect of getting be high and further numbed my pain receptors. Then midnight struck the time had arrived when i was going to commit the grisly act. As I prepared myself to end my life joy division seminal album closer was booming at a boisterous volume. I anxiously knocked back a large glass full of whisky that hoped would assuage my nerves my doubts. I removed my shirt to reveal a lean emailed torso. I glanced for one last time at the deformed grotesque visage that appeared in the mirror. Then tentatively i moved into the kitchen area of my flat. It would be the kitchen where I would make the fatal laceration to my wrists and hopefully severing a vital artery.

The haunted melancholia of Ian Curtis’s voice pierced deep into my intoxicated consciousness. I held firmly in my right hand the blade of glass which I had used on incalculable occasions to engage in deleterious midnight self harm. Masochistic self harm which scared my under arms with the effects of constant lacerations from a sharp blade. Before conducting the lethal act i would for one last time disfigure my arms by taking the blade for a final session of self harm. The blood flowed as i repeatedly effusively took the blade and pierced my skin drawing once again a profusion of blood. As the blade cut into my fragile ashen skin i felt no real pain just the spiritual elation of exorcising the pent up suppressed despair. Then after 10 minutes of savaging my body i hesitatingly prepared myself physically and emotionally for the final act before I disappeared into oblivion. By now tears cascading down my hollow cheeks as I wept uncontrollably in these fits of hysterical despair. I wandered in the midst of my suicide attempt how i had sunk so low to reach this psychologically impoverished state. There was once in the sweet bird of my formative years so much promise. I had illusions of a bright illustrious future then i sunk deeper and deeper into isolation into physical and emotional inertia. The depression had metastasised like a cancer growing more severe as I existed in extreme isolation as a consequence of my deeply introverted personality type.

I wiped the tears from my broken face grabbed hold of the sharp deadly blade of glass. My hands shake as the blade grazed by left wrist. A mark was made not a deep cut I was hysterically my arms were shacking hysterically as i was procrastinating in streams of doubt whether i could actually perform this injurious act. Tears flowed down my face as I searched for a singular reason to not severe a vital artery. My frantically shacking hands put down the dangerously sharp blade on the floor. I looked intensely at my disfigured wrists with the lacerations my arms soaked in blood. On my lino kitchen flooring i laid prostrate for minutes in a state of paralysis still undecided on whether I could take the courageous nihilistic action to end my sad life. Once again I looked at my hideous reflection in my bathroom mirror as i moved from the kitchen to the bathroom. I saw this hideous outline of a man who had bloodshot eyes and gnarled broken teeth. Eyes that appeared so haunted so listless a body and mind wanting to die wanting nothing more to end the pain of schizoid. In a moment of revelation with once again the menacingly sharp blade in my right hand I realised that I wanted life. That no matter how bleak how painful my life had become its considerable more advantageous than vanishing forever into dust.

This first suicide attempt had been a failure in the bleakness of the cavernous night I discovered i wanted to remain a living sentient being. I become fully conscious that there were aspects of my life and the world i still cherished. In this world of humans there was music great art great entertainment billons of humans who could imbue me with a rekindled love for life. I had miraculously survived a brutal attack of severe depression in which i assiduously planned by suicide. I found in the abyss of my depression a flickering emblem of hope.

Despite me failing to bring my suicidal desires to fruition my melancholic disposition the suicidal predilections persisted in my morbid personality. I never actively sought the psychological beneficial therapy i continued to refrain from confiding with a paid professional therapist. Despite my life threatening critical attack of depression never did i break open the walls of desolation and reach out to another person about my personally pernicious behaviour. The idea of confiding with a counsellor or a psychiatrist was terrifying was antithetical for me to be that open that emotional vulnerable with my damaged asocial personality type. Nor did i approach a family member a work place associate and disclose my long term battle with untreated mental illness.

After my brush with suicide i withdraw further into the walls of my utopian fantasy world. A private world i found solace and comfort in the escape from the brutal reality of being terminally depressed. Also i found superficial validation online with voracious tweeting of my non personal thoughts on twitter. Twitter uses responded to my opinionated political charged tweets by liking them retweeting by tweets. I got in long drawn out effusive conversations with strangers i will never meet in person but who gave me a superficial validation by engaging with me. Even with the walls of anonymity of being a twitter user i found the idea of divulging online about my failed suicide attempt my daily struggles with mental illness too onerous.

In the weeks that followed my first sort of suicide attempt I persisted with my habit of paying online camgirls. These cam sessions were the only real form of tangental human connection in my vapid unbearably dull life. Never would I reveal my repulsive face my damaged psyche to a luscious camgirl. Not wanting to experience a morsel of vulnerability wanting to remain enigmatic whist i interacted through messages with a voluptuous camgirl. The camgirls i frequented online were mainly dominatrixes who specialises in humiliation in findom in a array of sado masochistic fetishes. Fetishes which satisfied my perverted sexual fantasies.

There was one particular femdom camgirl who I became enamoured with. A women who became my primary dominatrix who i habitually patronised online. The name of this domineering seductress was goddess canna a voluptuous red headed American girl who specialised in a myriad of bdsm fetishes. Goddess canna was the embodiment of female perfection. She possessed all the physical attributes i fantasise about in my overactive schizoid imagination. Goddess canna had long flowing cascading auburn hair the sensuous red lips the ample breasts. In one towering domineering curvaceous redhead was a women who electrified me sexually who i connected with online in a transactional relationship. I engaged extensively with this bewitching redhead over a number of years who enraptured me she was the physical manifestation of the perfect female form that existed in my fantasy world. Goddess canna was how i imagined my fantasy lover corrina to have looked with the red hair the generous physical proportions the sexual magnetism a charismatic extroverted personality.

Over the years I’d have short sessions with her maybe once a month dependent upon how precarious my financial situation was. It was exorbitantly expensive but was worth the price of a cam session for the physical and emotional validation I received. In this brief window of time I felt like a human being instead of a repulsive alien freak. Even as goddess humiliated me called me pathetic ordering me to lick her boots telling me when i was permitted to masturbate i felt alive i felt human. Canna became a solitary witness in my isolated life as these sporadic cam sessions acted as sexually therapy. Online cam sessions that alleviated my suicidal tendencies. It also mitigated the alienation that has permeated my entire adult life as this pernicious personality disorder has become more severe over time.

Goddess would satisfy me by making me her sexual sub her slave in this online sexual fantasy. She groomed me into other bdsm sexual fetishes introducing me into the enticing world of chastity of sexual abstinence. Goddess controlled my sexual desires for weeks months at a time when I wasn’t permitted to achieve a orgasm or masturbate in the online chastity role play. This relationship was sustained for years as this voluptuous redhead took me to new levels of sexual ecstasy. Occasionally we even engaged in friendly small talk before the bdsm session began. Usually i participated in these camsessions as a avid customer with myself extremely intoxicated with alcohol. The alcohol which allowed my socially crippled personality to become uninhabited enough to engage in a sexually explicit conversation with a intimidating camgirl such as goddess canna.

Our transactional online relationship remained superficial despite the length of time i was a regular customer of canna. The majority of our verbal exchanges never strayed from the sadomasochist sexual role play into more personal intimate interactions. I paid her money to dominate me to humiliate me to control my sexual desires it wasn’t a genuine friendship goddess never saw my deformed face. Then suddenly i stopped participating in online webcam sessions with goddess after been afflicted with another protracted bout of severe depression I retreated away from any human contact. The depression the suicidal inclinations got so bad i was unable to partake in webcam sessions finding the sexually satiating activity to arduous in this fragile a mental state. My mental condition had deteriorated to the point I had serious thoughts of suicide. I contemplated planned for the second time to end my pathetic life I searched once again for a slither off hope a reason to carry on breathing oxygen.

I had concluded to engage with goddess canna for one last cam session in the hope that I’d discover a ray of light in my darkness maybe just maybe goddess could change my mind. I planned to confess to goddess my grievous mental state in the forlorn desire she persuade me with her feminine charisma to stay alive. This divulgence of my inner emotional torment would be a cry for help. I can recall this extensive cam session almost verbatim. As it was a indelible memory when in contrary to my aloof introverted personality allowed myself to be vulnerable to be candid abut my inner pain. In this session goddess canna was a unexpected revelation offering myself sage compassionate advice.

The session commenced after another long day of complete isolation from the human race and excessive drinking over the course of my day off from work. I had prepared a suicide note in the likely event canna was unable to persuade me to reverse my calamitous intentions to end my life. Also i prepared a cocktail of sleeping pills and opiate painkillers which i surmised would be of sufficient potency to kill me. The abundance of prescribed medications would permanently damage my vital organs if i ingested them after a day of voracious drinking. After i made my diligent preparations for my suicide i logged onto the fetish website with the knowledge goddess canna would be available at this specific time. I saw this enchanting image of a crimson goddess awaiting a customer. She was there in a tight low cut black dress that revealed her ample breasts. She displayed a beguiling beautiful visage that wanted to satisfy the deprived insatiable sexual appetites of her subs. Her luscious sensuous red lips and cascading crimson hair elevated her bewitching appearance. Goddess on this instance wore long black boots that came to her knees. These were stereotypical dominatrix boots that subs would salivate over as they worshipped before the altar of their favourite femdom. Canna sat on her throne adorned in her immodest gothic attire that portrayed her voluptuous body when i in my suicidal drunken state logged on.

On this potentially fateful cam session I obscured my hideous face canna could only communicate with me via my messages. I entered her private webcam chamber paying for a exorbitantly expensive private session. This needed to be private with the disturbing information i was going to disclose to my dominatrix. I started the private conversation with some awkward small talk. Goddess recognised it was me and responded effusively “well hello Patrick its been a considerable long time since since we lasts spoke”
Goddess was sitting on her thrown looking imperious as she crossed her legs as the camera was positioned upwards. Canna looked down on me enticing me to be dominated treating me like a pet a inferior being. I was hesitant not yet deciding on whether i was going to partake in a sexually explicit domination ceremony or would cut to the chase and divulge my dark intentions to end my vapid inconsequential life. Minutes passed away goddess patiently awaited my reply to here enticing conversation starter to our private session. I made the bold choice to refrain from engaging in a sexual interaction and have a poignant cry for help. I responded as I entered uncharted territory being truly emotional vulnerable with goddess
“goddess I haven’t come here to pay homage to your divine beauty. Rather I’m here in a dark moment of emotional torment”
Goddess was shocked that a long time loyal peculiar client had started a session in a non sexual uncharacteristically emotional manner. Her entire demeanour altered she sat down from her throne. Canna removed the mask of this sadistic dominatrix character and her countenance appeared more compassionate. She replied
“whats wrong this is so unusual for you. You seen so bereft of life today”
Goddess had ascertained from my melancholic verbiage that my mood wasn’t that of a usually ebullient submissive. I responded to cannas compassionate considerate words with a elongated message in which i delineated the depth of my decent into thoughts of suicide.
“goddess its been a long time since i last paid for the privilege of a private viewing. In that time my psychological condition has slowly deteriorated to this desolate point where i am seriously thinking about ending my life. For weeks I’ve been trapped in a vicious cycle of terminal depression. It’s come to this where one day i said to myself why i am still here. There is nobody that cares for me nobody that cherishes my company. I have no friends no sex life i exist in extreme isolation you’re my own real from of contact. You are a tiny ray of light in a life eclipsed in total darkness. Today i am messaging you to say goodbye to articulate to you how you’re validation of my peculiar sexual desires meant to me over the years. You’re divine breathtaking beauty kept me alive in the wilderness of my life you kept me going through the pain of being this mentally tortured. Now the pain has grown so severe that tonight with a deadly cocktail of alcohol, sleeping pills and painkillers I intend to end my time on earth”
This verbose message was met with shock and dismay as cannas entire mood visibly shifted. Her angelic porcelain face began to shed droplets of tears. She ascertained this was a despairing cry for help that this faceless anonymous devotee wanted to be persuaded to stay alive that his life had purpose had meaning. My suicidal pronouncement left her frozen shell shocked. Never before had a customer made a candid confession of their battle with a mental illness. Canna rose to the occasion and responded by offering a unexpected eloquent advice that she hoped would assuage her customers suicidal tendencies.
“ Please don’t kill your self your life has meaning there are people who care for you who love you. People who will be devastated if you successfully end your life. You may think you’re all alone in a godless universe but there are good kind people out there in the world who can help you. Please realise that your life isn’t pathetic or worthless that you are beautiful. I know you’re suffering but please as your goddess your femdom I’m demanding you abandon your plans to end your life so abruptly. Understand i care for you i treasure your company your patronage you have bestowed on me over the years. I wish i could hug you meet you in person i wish I could dissipate the pain that’s in your heart, I’m begging you please don’t die tonight”
Goddess canna was sobbing uncontrollably after that poignant pleading for me to stay alive. No longer was she playing a character she became in this session a confidant a friend a therapist a scintilla of hope in the darkness of my universe.

After canna searingly emotional speech I immediately left the cam session and fetish website with myself not knowing whether i would acquiesce to her request to stay alive. There was this dissonance in my mind as I remained unsure whether i would heed cannas advice or carry out my nihilistic plans to end my life. I started to cry as I viscerally felt my pain, crying at last as i expressed my emotional torment. As i cried profusely I looked at this emaciated figure of a man who was clinging onto life. Still i was unsure on my next course of action would i once again relent on my plan to become a ghost. As i was ruminating on suicide melancholic classical music reverberated at a thunderous volume inside my decrepit one bedroom flat. I held the bottle of sleeping pills and painkillers in both my hands. I had a shocking revelation if i swallowed all these pills I’d never wake up again. I held these pills in my hands for nearly an hour as my mind meandered between life and death. I listened fervently to the meditative haunting classical piano music of Chopin that permeated by intoxicated fragile mind. Cannas kind empathetic words were circulating in my brain as her poignant words and made a indelible impact on me.

After an hour the tears had dried her kind words acted as a potent remedy that averted temporarily my critically depressed state. She had been successful in preventing me from succeeding in a act of self destruction. The next day i emailed goddess canna with a short succinct small simply saying “Thank you for saving my life I’m still alive”

Despite the impact of this cam session we would never communicate or interest again in any medium of communication again. The vulnerability i showed the pain i revealed to her meant that we could never converse again. The experience of divulging intimate secrets to a online cam girl was traumatic. So traumatic that I withdraw i abstained from engaging with any online cam girl even without the sex worker seeing my deformed face. Rather than using the nightmare of that night to cultivate new relationships or become a more gregarious person. I retreated into a fantasy life as I succumbed to a life of isolation.

My second kind of suicide attempt which was i persuaded by a buxom redhead from carrying out was a pivotal moment in my life. After that night I completely removes myself from the world. I made a declarative decision to remove myself from twitter from any social media platform where i found brief moments of superficial validation. Now this pernicious schizoid personality disorder took over me like a virus infecting my entire being. After that night i became a hermit wanting nothing to do with a cruel vicious indifferent world of humans. Goddess canna tried assiduously to contact me relentlessly over the next few months. Like before i ghosted her until the vehement emails stopped and I fade away into nothingness only existing in my private utopian inner world.

The ordeal of baring my suicidal tendencies to a cam girl was reminiscent of when i made a stoned declaration of my love for peter. On both occasions it caused a trauma in me that left wounds that would never heal. These events caused a schism in my mind being psychological damaged by that night wanting to retreat inwards and desperately needing real human connection. The need to withdraw to exist in solitude was far greater than my unfulfilled desires for love and enduring friendships.

From after the night when i exposed my ravaged soul to goddess canna I had sporadic bouts of depression. I alleviated the pain of being schizoid by disappearing further into the alluring wall of my fantasy universe. I numbed myself to the depression almost denying the reality that i was depressed utterly miserable with my sad empty life. Indeed the depression remained untreated and slowly mutated into a permanent state of melancholia. I never confided with anybody again I denied myself the glorious possibilities of friendship denying the cathartic experience of therapy. The detrimental schizoid personality traits had solidified in my adult consciousness and permanently impaired me causing to become a social leper. Now i will remain this way until i die alone without people without love. Only surviving mitigating the loneliness by creating a big blue dream world a alternative existence in which friendship love and happiness are attainable.

Chapter 10 Peter Allan

For the majority of my adult life and tenure at TWC i have refrained from engaging in romantic or sexual relationships due to my disorder. There was though one individual in my early twenties in my preliminary period at TWC who fired the fervent passions hidden deep inside my introverted introspective personality.

This person was Peter Allen who joined TWC approximately a year after I commenced my employment. When i first introduced myself to peter and started to cultivate a intimate connection with him, i at the time had only a singular unsatisfactory sexual encounter in my entire adult life. This singular sexual escapade was with a buxom red called rose on a holiday excursion with my now estranged childhood friends.

Then a beguiling charming man named peter appeared like a beam of coruscating light into my insipid life. He was this alluring attractive 19 year old who was working in this drab warehouse to supplement his higher education aspirations. He worked part time in order to pay for his exorbitant expensive university education.

From the first moment I saw his face I was struck by his beauty by his sense of style. He was 6 foot tall with a svelte but athletic body. Peter had piercing captivating blue eyes that pieced deep into the depths of your soul when he fixed his enchanting gaze at you. He had a beaming ebullient smile that revealed a immaculate set of perfect gleaming white teeth. Such a stark contrast to my gnarled disfigured gnashers. His appearance his personality was the polar opposite of my introverted personality and my physically repugnant exterior. He was a exquisite figure of young masculinity who embodied all the alluring qualities i admired. He was gregarious funny able to converse with aplomb with the opposite sex. He wasn’t comfortable with his current situation in Mayberry with working in a dead end menial factory job. He was restless ambitious to ameliorate his situation to extricate himself from Mayberry. Unlike myself who had succumbed to the rut and moil of life in Mayberry.

Despite our contrasting personality types over a number of months of working in close proximity at TWC a beautiful friendship blossomed. At the time when I became a close friend of peter my schizoid personality idiosyncrasies weren’t as prevalent. I still socialised outside of work i still converse freely with my fellow coworkers still preserved illusions of falling in love. In my early twenties at TWC when i wasn’t yet so detrimentally affected by my disorder my friendship with peter flourished. The initial friendship had developed into feelings of unexpressed romantic lust for this charismatic individual who’s very presence enriched my life.

From my early sexual awakening in my formative years i was enormously confused about my specific sexual identity. I was as equally sexually attracted to both genders feeling enticed by both the female and male bodies. I kept secret these bisexual predilections due to my inability to express my inner emotions never divulging to another soul my sexual confusion.

Then peter came along a person who electrified me sexually. A human who i could envision engaging in a long lasting intimate sexual relationship despite the severe antisocial tendencies of my atypical personality. As our interconnection bloomed I refrained from declaring these intense feelings of infatuation i held for him.

Our friendship thrived outside of the suffocating claustrophobia of the workplace environment. We shared numerous interest that allowed for the deepening of our connection. We had almost identical tastes in music we had corresponding interests in the type of literature and tv we consumed. Socialising at peters humble abode drinking copious volumes of alcohol whilst listening to our congruent musical passions. These nights spent with peter in his home were magical. To connect with another person with the intoxicating consumption of alcohol and the occasional consciousness shifting cannabis i felt for once like a person. In these enchanting nights in intimate company with the statuesque peter I felt my life mattered that there were people who cared for me who were armoured with me.

Nights in his modest home and nights out in the pubs and clubs of Mayberry in which i was introduced to his motley crew of student acquaintances. Having this friendship and subsequent association with peters clan of idiosyncratic engaging friends helped to alleviate my isolation my pathological self loathing. In these meaningful social interactions i was imbued with a strange feeling of self worth that transformed me from the doldrums of perennial depression.

Before i became indelible intertwined with this effervescent person i was completely alone living a sad friendless life. It was the time when I extracted myself permanently from my childhood chums. Taking this drastic decision to neglect these important friendships left me completely alone. I spiralled downwards in my mental states with my schizoid traits became increasingly prevalent in my maladroit personality. Then something miraculous occurred i forged a friendship out of the mire the desert of loneliness i was cursed to exist in. A friendship that enabled me to reconnect with mainstream society. Whilst this bond was nurtured over many months and years the depression the symptoms of a debilitating personality disorder dissipated.

In the period when i was intimately acquainted with peter i still persisted with my elaborate private fantasy world. Despite the psychologically benefits of cultivating a kindred bond I still subsisted my abnormal propensity to fantasise. However at the time this inner universe was less complex less immersive i was able to converse to display a limited emotional range with my fellow humans. Whereas today i am completely consumed with this intricate virtual reality landscape I’ve created in my overreactive imagination.

The indispensable friendship with peter continued to deepen over many months when we became almost inseparable. Peter was my confidant at work we would share jokes share our dreams for the future. In his radiating presence i was able to be comfortable to be myself to be uninhabited to let my guard down. He showered me with his platonic affection as my lustful lascivious desires towards him intensified. Over our extensive time in each other’s company i madly fell in love with him. The love remained this fervent fire of burning passion lurking in my soul it never abated only growing more intense as i kept my love a secret. Due to my inclination for being secretive i continued to dissimulate my amorous feelings for peter. We continued to socialise outside of the mundanity of the TWC factory. Meeting at each other’s unremarkable residences where he get throughly intoxicated. I was intoxicated with the mind altering effects of his exuberant youthful personality that made me feel like a human being.

Then as our connection became solidified peter enthusiastically requested if I would be interested in attending a prestigious music festival with his colourful fluorescent adolescent comrades. I vehemently agreed to this enticing invitation to the Glastonbury music festival. The wonder the joy of going to a music festival surrounded by young souls who cherished your company. Back then in my early twenties the social anxiety was tolerable. The few friendships i cultivated helped to assuage my paralysing social anxiety I’ve always suffered from. Today as a directionless schizoid thirty something the notion of attending a 3 day music festival surrounded by exuberant strangers fills me with dread and terror. I cant go out enjoying the social scene of the various pubs and clubs anymore. My schizoid and social anxiety disorders have grown so severe so endemic in my personality it precludes me from going out. Any form of protracted social intercourse is a anathema to my damaged schizoid self who craves solitude like oxygen for my soul.

In my early twenties i was overcome with excitement at the tantalising prospect of going to 3 day endless carnival of eclectic music. A festival in which fellow musical fanatics would traverse and congregate in the hallowed Glastonbury venue to pay reverence to their musical idols. Myself peter and his assortment of eccentric students travelled to this iconic musical venue. Back then all the anxiety was negated by my infatuation for peter this vision of idealised masculinity. We traversed to Glastonbury in a cavalcade of vehicles. There was approximately a dozen of us in our group of festival goers. The trip was a arduous journey to the musical nirvana of the sacred Glastonbury fields where we would indulge our music and hedonistic passions. We arrived at the gates of this eden we were overcome with elation at the assemblage of world famous musical outlets that would beguile us throughout the weekend. We entered the magical kingdom set up our rudimentary tents which provided us with shelter for the 3 days and nights. Tents that hopefully protected us from the elements of a typically wet Glastonbury June weekend. As i can recall the most illustrious acts that performed in this year were u2, Bruce Springsteen, the white stripes and Lana del Rey. All of these acts we were salivating with anticipation to witness in person their performances.

Throughout the carnival of music we drank to excess with reckless youthful abandon never really being sober. At the campsite alcohol was consumed voraciously. The highly potent alcoholic spirits was complemented perfectly with frequent use of cannabis. The weed was devoured insatiably in both eaten as a edible and smoked as a joint. This escapade to Glastonbury was a rare occurrence for me to leave my sheltered inertia life to experience the beauty of humanity. To escape the claustrophobic atmosphere of Mayberry to indulge my musical passions whilst being around life affirming humans. Now i never leave the confines of my home town to venture outside to the big bad world. In this time many years ago I felt truly alive my soul was infused alien sensations of joy and weird feelings of being happy. All these sublime ecstatic sensations that circulated my body was down to the heavenly friendship with peter who electrified me with illusions of love.

I contemplated disclosing my private amorous desires for him. That desire to bare my soul filled my damaged head with paralysing anxiety and at the same time excitement. The idyllic Glastonbury setting seemed to me the ideal place to divulge my previously repressed feelings for peter. The ethereal Glastonbury landscape with its visual feast of lurid colours that seduce the naked eye and the gathering of thousands of humans. Was the perfect locale to proclaim my love for this magnetic young adult.

By the time of the festival we held known each other for a considerable period of time. Becoming inseparable telepathic kindred spirits at work and in Mayberry for nearly 2 years. I had hidden suppressed my carnal desires for him for all that time. Within a week of really fully regarding peter as a close friend I fell madly in love with this angelic ashen faced being. Now i was resolute in my conviction now was the appropriate time and setting to make a sincere divulgence of the depths of my infatuation with him.

This wondrous festival progressed with us seeing a diverse variety of exemplary musical acts over the course of the weekend. I had decided to make my declaration of love on the Sunday night in order to avoid any embarrassment if peter rejected my vulnerable declaration of love. I tried to enjoy the Friday and Saturday entertainment to block out the anxiety the dread of being that emotionally honest and vulnerable to another person. My body my aching bones were paralysing self doubt the nervous energy permeated every organ every region of my scrawny body. Thoughts of what if he rejected me is he really gay why would he be attracted to a ugly freak like me. These questions these anxieties ruminated in my neurotic consciousness I believed it was highly possible peter would refuse my love. Trying to bury these thoughts until Sunday and savour getting stoned being lost in the psychedelic colours and beautiful otherworldly people that frequented this enchanting festival.

Friday and Saturday went by so rapidly with us viewing the likes of Bruce Springsteen and U2. Days spent in utter rapturous wonder with us getting intoxicated with potent mind altering substances and inspirational live music performances. Sunday arrived after 2 days of perpetual narcotic intoxication with my adult body surging with nervous energy. The idea of exposing my soul to peter weighed heavily on my fragile introverted mind. I envisioned this scenario in my imagination endlessly. Imagining the perfect erudite words i would eloquently articulate that would convey the depth if my love for him. I drifted into my fantasy world visualising us falling in love having sex. These illusionary thoughts permeated my mind over this weekend in the hallowed Glastonbury land. In the years our precious relationship developed i became increasingly obsessed with thoughts of sex and falling in love with peter the man of my dreams the only person I’ve fallen in love with.

This was the time i theorised to divulge my deepest suppressed secrets to my kindred TWC spirit. The right time to be completely vulnerable to take a chance on love for once in my vapid life. The day dragged on with our gang of consuming lavish quantities of alcohol that was complemented with a array of illicit chemicals. My nervous my dread intensified with each passing hour despite being both stoned and drink throughout the final festival day. I had concluded to make my heartfelt confession short after the final musical performance of the sensuous Lana del Rey who performs with her typical melodramatic feminine angst she would become our Sunday nights last entertainment. With every passing hour the anxiety levels escalated in me. I was filled with a foreboding of being rejected of my sincere declaration of love permanently impairing our beautiful friendship.

After witnessing a cornucopia of exemplary musical acts on Sunday after getting throughly inebriated and high with hallucinogenic chemicals. The group gathered to glimpse the seductive evocative power of a Lana del Rey performance. Lana wasn’t headlining the Sunday festival but performed across from the main stage. We were all unanimous in our decision to see Lana over another rock band. By the time her performance commenced i was in a tumult of nervousness. I was overcome with panic with paralysing nightmare premonitions of what might happen if i successfully made a public declaration of love for the angelic peter.

For months i had countless opportunities, nights out, drunken encounters when it was the prefect time to proclaim my amorous feelings for peter. I refrained due to my crippling shyness and moral cowardice from taking a unprecedented chance. I ruminated over the weekend on wether would i chicken out once more and recede into my comfortable shell. As this sublime final performance progressed my body tingled my hands were visibly shacking i couldn’t fully savour the majestic Lana del Rey set. I was too self obsessed with the audacious acts i was preparing in my neurotic head.

Then the divine Lana ended her live show. She bowed out to rapturous applause from a enthralled audience who had been treated to a flawless display of musical brilliance. The Glastonbury congregation receded from the stage towards their temporary campsites. I sensed the opportunity was here under the clear July skyline with the luminous display of the cosmos that beamed in the majestic Glastonbury nighttime. The stars radiance wasn’t obscured by light pollution the iridescent cosmos’s constellations add to the romantic ambience of the night in the twilight of this festival. I strolled back to the campsite the rest of the group were fortuitously far away from me and peter so now was the ideal moment to broadcast my enduring love for him.

I attempted to broach the subject of my deep romantic feelings for him with tremendous trepidation. My voice was trembling my mouth was suddenly dry i was jittering with uncontrollable nervousness. Like a coward a terrified introvert I retreated inwards. The palpable anxiety was too much of a hindrance the thought of rejection the humiliation the pain of having my tender heart broken. I realised in that moment the highly improbable possibility of peter reciprocating my amorous feelings. If i made a valiant decision to bare my soul this indispensable friendship would be irrecoverable damaged. In that moment i made a calculus to preserve a vital friendship as oppose to being totally vulnerable and expose my suppressed desires to a beautiful figure of uncorrupted youthful masculinity. I admit it was a gutless decision to was in keeping with my timorous personality.

The idyllic weekend was over and enduring memories of musical performances of public into action were imprinted on my psyche. This heavenly 3 day excursion is a time i revisit I reminisce as a time is was genuinely happy feeling like a integral part of the human race. It was along time ago when i wasn’t so acutely impaired by this debilitating personality disorder. I was almost a different person entirely a person form meaningful friendships who could lucidly articulate his emotions. In my early twenties when i was friends with peter i wasn’t living inside the walls of my personality being condemned to a life of perennial isolation living a life devoid of real human contact.

This weekend of hedonistic exuberance of dancing getting high on psychoactive substances where i witnessed a vast selection of charismatic musicians. This weekend was a transient moment where i luxuriated in the rich tapestry of the human race before I retreated forever into my cage of solitude. Myself and peter over many years would continue to frequent a variety of rock based summer music festivals over the years that solidified our intimate interconnection. Also we maintained our platonic relationship with sporadic nights out. Around the same period when I had cultivated a long term friendship with peter i was also friends with Philip and nick. My only two other real friends who like peter worked closely with me at TWC.

Philip nick and peter would join me for a once a month drinking binge on a nighttime adventure visiting the various Mayberry pubs and night clubs. We organised nights out with a multitude of characters connected with peter, nick and Philip. I had no real acquaintances outside of my sparse collection of workplace companions. These infrequent nights would be blissful occurrences of drunken excess. Where for a fleeting period in time i was transformed from the shadows of my self imposed solitude to this sanguine state of being. Feeling the warm embrace of my TWC peers being accepted as a equal as a valued human being.

On these nights we would inaugurate the proceedings by patronising a local bistro restaurant. Filling our empty stomachs with a plentiful high caloric cuisine before the sustained period of binge drinking. These nights out usually occurred on a Friday after a long monotonous week of laborious mind numbing work at TWC. We desperately needed a escape from the drudgery of menial work in a stultifying factory environment with a wondrous night of insatiable alcoholic consumption. At the bistro restaurant we complimented the unhealthy cuisine by drinking several pints of beer in a ravenous manner. Requiring that initial injection of alcohol to dull the senses to give us a blessed out sensation that occurs in the earls stages of getting wasted.

After the initial relaxing serene period inside the restaurant where the cuisine was mixed with alcoholic libations. We proceeded to our usual drunken crawl where we would briefly stay in the various pubs nightclubs where we drank with reckless abandon as we gorged on the alcoholic feast. In the clubs powerful alcoholic shots were gulped down with our insatiable appetite. Shore of whisky vodka and a varied smorgasbord of spirits cocktails voraciously indigested into our inebriated bloodstream. The same pattern of cocktails containing a amalgam of spirit and coke contained throughout this rapturous night.

On many occasions i personally over indulged and became paralytic with the detrimental effects of excessive binge drinking. On these instances of severe drunkenness my compassionate sparse group of friends cared for me looked after me when i was in a vulnerable dangerously intoxicated state. Peter was there to make sure I didn’t get into precarious situation making sure i get home safe. He at times despite being younger than me gave me sage advice advocating that I drank in a more measured mature and controlled manner. Peter unlike me was a functioning respectable adult whereas i even in my early twenties exhibit atypical behaviour when i was drunk in public. On these rare night when I overindulged by alcoholic intake I had the propensity to become violent or behave erratically when profuse amounts of alcohol were drunk in a relatively short period. The alcohol for me became a social lubricant that acted as a sedative calming my social anxiety and unbinding my social inhibitions. Getting drunk in my early to mid twenties was a prerequisite to function in these stressful social situations without having a anxiety attack.

For the main part i behaved in effervescent peaceful manner. The alcohol enabling me to enjoy the the music the convivial atmosphere of loquacious interactions with strangers and friends. On a habitual night out we continued the orgy of. Music highly potent alcoholic drinks and dancing with alluring women. We would wander from club to club with a wanderlust for new experiences staying no longer than a hour in a particular club.

The other members of our tribe were considerably more adept around attractive women. They exhibited social adroitness around the opposite sex demonstrating with aplomb all the social graces and attributes i lacked in my introverted social encumbered personality. I wanted to be this charismatic charming person who could easily talk to women who saw as a desirous young men. Instead i was a awkward physically unappealing oddball who women generally ignored or rebuked my timid sexual advances. On these infrequent night on the town i kept my bisexuality a secret just like I kept my feelings for peter hidden. Even in the elevated heights of my blissful drunken state my secret desires for peter were hidden in the vault of my mind.

This paradisiacal night continued until the early hours of the morning until we weren’t legally permitted to drink and dance any more. After leaving the last nightclub of a exultant night we took our weary bleary bodies to a takeaway. We finalised a idyllic night of extended intoxication with another high calorie greasy culinary treat. We devoured a cheese burger or sometimes a pizza which served as a perfect climax to a enchanting evening. Then we traversed to our various residences I usually strolled home lethargically with peter as he lived closely to my dank flat. The journey home there was deep unencumbered conversation. laughing conversed on our hopes aspirations for the future. We engaged in intimate at times vulnerable verbal exchanges. On many instances we sauntered home from a nights exertions and i came in my drunken stupor precariously close to revealing my deep love for peter. However my inability to make a audacious act of emotional revelation precluded myself from breaking the ice of repressed love.

This is how these rare night would progress from beginning to culmination with a abundance of alcohol being drunk as i for one night escaped the toil and moil of my working reality. Back then along time ago as a twenty something i could still function as a adult still felt like i part of the human race. Still was imbued with a feeling of belonging to this species unlike now where i feel like a grotesque alien creature leaving on the outside in my rusty cage. I reminisce at these rare moments when I had friends ventured outside my enclave to socialise with warm amicable humans. These memories fill my heart with melancholic nostalgia of the joyous time there is regret the sadness at the person i used to be. Now I’m almost a completely different being a emotionless robot living detached from human contact escaping to a elaborate inner fantasy world for emotional nourishment.

Despite my aversion to divulge my inner emotions to peter our intense bond continued to flourish. He was this beacon of light a figure of solace who mitigated my melancholic tendencies. Peter a symbol of coruscating inner beauty who assuaged the boredom of working at TWC. He made me laugh he made me smile with his dazzling wit his effervescent charming personality. Our conversations were easy no stilted awkwardness no dissonance between us. For years he was a protector who guarded with his enduring friendships against the demons lurking inside my subconsciousness. He was my main witness in the world who kept the walls and chains of schizoid at bay until i inevitably succumbed to the detrimental effects of my pernicious disorder.

A pivotal time in our relationship was when peter graduated from university. He had been concurrently studying for a degree at a prestigious university whilst working at TWC to supplement the cost of his education. He had successfully accomplished his goal of earning a university degree in english literature. From gaining a degree he would be able to progress out of Mayberry and move onwards to his ambition to become a eminent journalist or published writer. In light of the euphoria of graduating earning his degree with diligent hard work peter decided to throw a lavish post graduate party in his modest 2 bedroom house share. A house which he shared with fellow university students who likewise had just graduated from university with honours.

The party featured a multitude of his university peers his school friends and various employers at TWC who he beguiled with his warm extroverted personality. In this raucous party there was a cornucopia of alcoholic drinks available. There was also the consciousness distorting cannabis that was provided by the attendees to freely smoke and inhale. This party would be a critical moment in time, my best friend had achieved his higher education dreams and had the opportunity to leave this boring humdrum town. Whilst i would have to meander forever in menial employment being condemned to wander through adulthood in directionless apathetic nothingness. Having no goals no hopes no future. Now i had to contend with the imminent departure of peter from my life. He had made plans to escape from the trappings of Mayberry forthwith for the lure the excitement of London. He planned to vacate Mayberry indefinitely to leave me all alone without a best friends or potential soul mate.

All these forlorn thoughts were circulating in my head as i arrived for a rambunctious party. Of course i was overcome with joy at peter fulfilling his intellectual ambitions but was immensely sad and envious. He has studied assiduously to earn a prestigious degree at a prominent higher education institute. Whilst i had abandoned my intellectual aspirations through loss of drive and my social maladroitness. I had the intellectual acuity to emulate peters accomplishments but lacked he relentless drive lacked the fortitude to earn a higher education credential.

At the party i was on the outside projecting a exuberant vivacious visage that masked the pain of peters imminent departure from Mayberry. The festivities commenced early in the evening with loud music blaring and the imbibing of alcohol with insatiable fervency. The atmosphere of the party in peters humble rented abode was boisterous with newly graduated students revealing in this moment of educational achievement. Many of the guest who weren’t students were here to have a jubilant night of stimulating conversational and ecstatic public intoxication.

I however came to the party with surreptitious plans to finally disclose my love for peter. This would possible be the final occasion he would drink get stoned together. He confided with me that he had barely a month left to work at TWC before he would make the bold step to emigrate from this town forever. Where he venture into the field of journalism or maybe become a published writer. A month that’s all i had left to bask in the glow of this wonderful celestial creature descended from heaven. In a month he’d be gone to a better more economically and intellectually prosperous place where his stellar intellect could blossom. I was in this joyous evening resolute in my mind that i was going to finally declare my love for peter. Years i had squandered repressing these amorous feelings holding the homosexual desires inside of me. I feared the rejection the scaring humiliation of being that vulnerable and not have peter reciprocate my feelings. Now in the fervency of a lively party the last chance to realise my fantasies of falling in love of having sex with peter. All these years of fantasising of the nirvana of being in love of having that erotic intimacy where 2 spirits connect with the infinite cosmic beauty of love. The tantalising possibility that love was within my grasp both terrified and electrified my body with the sweet dream of tangible love. The kind of love and sex that only existed for me in my elaborate inner fantasy universe where love was a fantastical far fetched dream.

In this jubilant party I would have a final chance to pronounce my love for a statuesque unblemished uncorrupted heavenly creature. The alcohol fuelled celebration was gaining steam shots of whisky and vodka were ebulliently being drunk. I was drinking whisky and coke that helped to steady my nerves as I prepared myself to proclaim my lustful desires to peter. The guest were gradually getting drunk with each passing hour with each alcoholic unit that was ingested into their intoxicated bloodstream. Raucous rick music was played at a thunderous volume as the sounds echoed in the thin walls of this humble home. Peter was standing captivating me looking resplendent dancing to artic monkeys with youthful exuberance. He was drinking like me a cocktail of whiskey and coke,,, he drank voraciously like a man who wanted to bask in the glow of his stupendous educational achievement.

Hours flowed by so rapidly as our perception of time was distorted by abundant alcoholic intake. Midway through this celebration one of peters friends broke out the cannabis he’d brought along to peters party. Firstly he rolled a cartoonishly enormous joint that was passed around the party attendees who were eager to inhale the sweet psychoactive cannabis smoke. I partake enthusiastically in the smoking of this powerful illicit substance. Then after the fat cannabis joint was consumed he placed another batch of cannabis in one of peters rudimentary bangs. I like many of the guests participated in both of these methods of taking cannabis which elicited in me a immediate state of highness.

After the excessive devouring of alcohol and consciousness transformative chemicals i was in a blissed out sanguine mood. My body was still in a state of disquietude despite the sedative effects of cannabis. The enormity of what I was planning to do to articulate for once my rawest most sincere feelings to peter. Like always i procrastinated my declaration of love until later in that party when i was sufficiently intoxicated to carry out such a uncharacteristically bold action. Later on the nighty I planned my confession when my inhibitions had abated from the socially beneficial effects of getting inebriated on a variety of drugs.

Approximately at midnight where my body had reached the apex of drug induced nirvana. I made the courageous terrifying decision to finally reveal my love to peter. Finally for once in my vapid inconsequential life i would emancipate myself from the cage of repression and take a intrepid chance on love.

As I entered peters bedroom he was laying on his bed smoking whats remained off the cannabis in drifting into dazed euphoric states. He was all alone listening to joy division with the alluring aroma of marijuana permeating his cosy bedroom. I tentatively walked up the stairs still resolute in my conviction to bare my soul to this immaculate figure of masculine beauty. With every incremental footstep my heart was beating faster and faster, sweat was forming on my brow. Now i found the mere act of breathing a onerous task as the anxiety intensified as I approached peters private chamber.

Eventually after ascending to the peak of the steep stairs I reached peters room. I timorously knocked on his door peter with characteristic warmth beaconed me inside his private kingdom. I entered his bedroom gazes upon a heavenly being who was elevated by the voracious inhalation of cannabis. He offered me a hit of the bong which still contained a large quantity of cannabis. I ardently agreed to another mind altering hit of the illicit narcotic.

Then after inhaling the strong hallucinogenic chemical i opened the conversation. I made the first initial steps in the bold act of emotional revelation. My memory of our interaction is imprinted on my mind. I can recount verbatim every word every sentence every minute moment of non verbal communications that transpired in peters bedroom. The memory of our prolonged conversation exist in my mind as a vivid haunting memory.

After the potent dose of cannabis we were both sitting upright on the edge of peters luxury double bed. I broached the subject of my long-standing feelings for peter in my awkward manner. “ I am so high right now but there’s something important information i have to impart to you”. Peter responded lethargically in his stoned dazed state. “I am so high right now this is incredible weed what were you saying”
By now i was viably shaking with anxiety and had to hold back the tears before i divulged my secret to the alluringly stoned peter.
“ I need to make a confession this is possibly the last time we will be drunk or high together. I desperately need to convey some private intimate information to you”
by now i was sniffling holding back the dam of emotional torment that was threatening to cascade down by face. Peter responded with consternation he was perturbed by my odd behaviour.
“ Why are you acting so peculiar. You are behaving odd even for you whats on your mind.”
At this juncture the atmosphere in the cannabis infused room altered dramatically. There was a palpable tension as i began to sob almost uncontrollable as i responded to peters agitated remarks.
“ Please don’t go don’t go to London don’t leave me all alone in this desolate god forsaken place”
My eyes were now bloodshot as my face was drenched in a profusion of tears. Peter now gaged the sadness in my eyes ascertaining how despondent i was at his decision to vacate Mayberry.
Peter said “ I have to leave for myself. I have to exit this town to fulfil my potential. Why are you crying we will still talk we will still see each other from time to time. You wont be all alone in Mayberry you other friends”
I replied with a forlorn desperate declaration of my infatuation with peter. I was barely able to lucidly articulate my thoughts as my ashen face was soaked in waterfalls of emotional anguish. My voice trembled as i utter every word.
“ I need your friendship without you I’m nothing. Peter I’m in love with you i have been since the moment i first glimpsed your majestic angelic face. Every time i see you i feel alive i feel electrified my body is rendered ecstatic my otherworldly beauty.”
I became unconsolable with a rare display of emotional candour I allowed myself for once to be completely vulnerable. After I made this sincere proclamation of my love I could barely look peter in the eye. I knew in the depths of my psyche this statuesque intelligent socially adroit adult would refute my amorous desires for him. Peter was apoplectic at why i waited so long to proclaim my sexual desires my love for him until he was departing to London in a month.
“ Why are you telling me this now why have you wasted years suppressing theses emotions”
Peters blunt incandescent response still left me with a morsel of ambiguity whether he reciprocated my love. However in my self loathing mind I fathomed he wasnt in anyway sexually attracted to me. I with my melancholic demeanour elucidated why I suppressed these carnal desires for years.
“ I knew you’d reject me I protected myself from the hurt of your inevitable rejection. You are this beautiful charismatic intelligent person whereas I’m a socially awkward loser who can barely look in the mirror to look upon this grotesque image of a man”
I then sat down on the floor with my head in my hands as a broken man waiting anxiously for peter to deny me. Peter placed his delicate soft hands on my head and tenderly responded on my exacerbated proclamation of love.
“ You’re not ugly stop being so self deprecating so hard on yourself. I’m sorry though I’m not gay or bisexual. I’m just not attracted to you or men in general”
I got up felt emotional naked wanting to vacate this place knowing in my heart I’d never have a sexual relationship with the luscious peter. I walked towards the window observed the night sky with the elegant constellations illuminating the bleak Mayberry landscape. Then I starred deep into peters sky blue alluring eyes.
“ This is why i concealed my attraction to you because i knew you’d repel my sexual advances and i knew never in a million years you would reciprocate my love”
By now i had ceased crying but my visage was still wet with the profusion tears. Eyes still red from the excess of emotions that emanated out of my tear ducts. I was ready to abscond from peters rented residence to the safety and solitude of my dilapidated flat. Peter uttered one last before i left
“ I do care for you but as a friend please don’t let this destroy our friendship”
Then we embraced in a prolonged platonic hug with both of us crying being fully cognisant that our friendship was doomed to die as our lives drifted apart. After the hug was over i felt truly vulnerable for once in my emotional guarded adulthood. I preceded to run out of peters home leaving the party without uttering a perfunctory goodbye to any of the guests or to peter. I sprinted home needing the safety of my private enclave.

When i was inside the walls of my flat I made a private affirmation to abandon love to give up on the illusionary possibility of having a sexual partner. I decided to lead a life of chastity of solitude. The pain of my confession would leave indelible scars on my fragile heart. From this pivotal moment onwards I started to alter as a person. Before this event in peters bedroom i was exhibiting abnormal antisocial behaviour. I had few friends lead a life bereft of sexual validation. I struggled to be a fully autonomous person and existed in protracted periods of isolation. Now after the harrowing memory of peters rejection I altered considerably my behaviour. I began to retreat further inwards relaying on my extensive fantasy world for emotional nourishment as i eschewed human contact in favour of the allure of my idyllic inner dream wold.

The next few days weeks after being shunned by peter after i had that devastating heartbreaking moment, i fell into a dark depression. At work whilst peter was serving his final month of employment i avoided him entirely. I declined to answer the frequent phone calls refusing to respond to the deluge of vociferous text messages. On numerous occasions he attempted to contact me by knocking on my flat. On these occasions I simply laid down on my floor turned off all the lights turning off all the electrical appliances giving the false impression I wasn’t home. After the fateful party we never communicated meaningfully again i affectively ghosted peter from my sad nothing life.

At work when he came across each we would share a monosyllabic superficial pleasantries. I found maintaining the friendship would too painful given the deep wounds i suffered from his repudiation of my sexual desires for him. At TWC i shunned him almost completely rarely mailing eye contact. On the innumerable occasions he would stroll past me he attempted a superficial greeting I ignored him pretending he was a ghost a apparition. That what affectively we became a ghost a sad haunting memory that would never leave my gnarled mind. He now existed as a aching melancholic memory with the fantasy of what could have been. Falling in love having stupendous homosexual sex with a beautiful person who electrified me intellectual and sexually.

Peter after a long month of being ignored by a asocial weirdo finished his tenure at TWC and departed posthaste to London to hopefully bring his literary aspirations into fruition. I would never speak, meet or interact in any form of mass communication with this divine heavenly creature ever again. After his departure my already abnormal personality deteriorated over the next few years. I became cognisant i was afflicted with schizoid personality disorder when i was 19. At the time was aware i manifested schizoid like symptoms however up until my mid twenties was a able to live a seemingly normal functional adult life. When peter left me to spread his luscious wings and see the world his devastating rejection of my love only exacerbated these negative personality traits. These changes my increased propensity for solitude took place over a number of years. I still clung onto my sparse selection of friendships after peters devastating abrupt exit from Mayberry. However my need my desire to be alone to be separated from the human race, my aversion to intimacy left my minuscule selection of friendships doomed to fail. In a few years I abandoned these deeply meaningful friendships as my atypical personality disassociated further from mainstream society.

Slowly I faded away disappearing into the vast wilderness as i ceased venturing outside apart from going to my contractually mandated visits to the TWC warehouse. I made no effort whatsoever to cultivate new friendships as i collapsed within myself becoming submerged completely in my alluring utopian fantasy world. My entire personality changed drastically after the traumatising incident at peters graduation party. I went from being a kind warm timid introvert who had a limited emotional range to this emotionless aloof alien creature. I regressed retreated inwards and absconded from normal human relationship as i sequestered myself from fulfilling human connection.

That singular crushing moment where i was vulnerable and I had my fragile soul shattered changed my relationship with the human race. In the outside world in these rare occurrences i went outside my enclave i adopted a insouciant emotionless detached persona. Never did i smile laugh and i rarely conversed with the other humans except in monosyllabic responses. I sheltered myself in hermitage only appearing from my cave to traverse back and forth from my menial warehouse employment. I was always destined to deteriorate into a socially maladroit figure it was the harsh rebuff from the divine peter that was the catalyst that accelerated my decline.

Peters memory never faded from my mind. His coruscating image is ingrained in my psyche, now he’s a ghost haunting me fills me with regret. Everyday I daydream about him about the memories we shared in our brief but intense friendship. He never vanished from my vivid imagination his pallid pure visage his piercing radiant blue eyes were imprinted in the recesses of my mind. When i wasn’t fantasising about being a lionised rockstar I’d daydream about peter. Imagining the impossible dream of being in love having sex with the magnetic vision of human perfection.

I would look upon old photos of peter on Facebook which preserved the fading memory of our fleeting homoerotic friendship for posterity. I would gawk habitually at his new life his rich fulfilled life. A life he carved out for himself in the intimidating streets of London. From the photos from his Facebook page i gathered he had a beautiful wife 3 children and a prominent position in the publishing business as a editor and copy writer. He never attained his lofty ambitions to become a published revered writer. He did though diligent hard work construct a prosperous existence in London with his photogenic family. Whereas i languished in my intellectually barren unexceptional path I forged for myself because of apathy and mental illness. Peter strived he flourished as a Londoner living a colourful enriching life.

In the years we were estranged from each other I constantly checked how he was doing on social media which gave me a accurate representation of his situation. His beauty his radiant presence his warmth remained with me years after i severed my ties with him. I was wrecked with painful regrets at letting our friendship vanish into nothingness. Regret at not attempting to forge a romantic relationship earlier why did I procrastinate my bold decision to proclaim my love for him. There was regret at ignoring his vehement calls to reestablish our bond.

I view old photos and new whilst weeping tears of despair at letting this tender friendship slip away. He’s always there a thought a illusionary dream of homosexual love. I will never speak interact with him in any form of mass communication with him again to do would be so onerous on my fragile spirit. To break open the wounds of a past friendship a person i fell in love with would be excruciatingly painful. Peter will remain a enduring emotionally scarring memory that will torture my damaged soul until i cease being alive.

Chapter 9 Trapped Inside A Big Blue Dream

Ever since i was a infant i had this innate predilection to fantasise. Before I developed this emotional crippled personality disorder i had this atypical inclination to disappear into a elaborate fantasy world. A inner universe in which i created a alter ego alternative version of myself. A character that i could live vicariously through and his exciting imagined life. I always had a overactive imagination a propensity in my atypical personality to become submerged in a alluring dreamworld. It’s why i had a affinity for literature for long form storytelling for video games which enabled my childhood imagination to run free untethered from the constraints of the real world.

The early genesis of the creation of my expansive big blue dream world in which i could live out these exciting elaborate adventures was when i began to attend my primary school. This need to escape to fantasise started mainly because of how socially adrift i was even as a young child. I struggled to cultivate healthy long lasting friendships. I was this painfully shy deeply introverted child who was verbally inarticulate. The desire for friendship for a modicum of emotional connection that was absent from my life was compensated by the creation of this inner utopian world. This is why i began to conceptualise a vast fantasy universe in my head as a defuse mechanism and to negate the loneliness i faced from my early formative years. My childhood was marred with loneliness where i regarded myself as a other. Not a accepted normal human but a outsider who was precluded from the glorious normal human life affirming experiences. The world that existed in my head my infinite imagination was a perfect emotional anecdote for the void of friendship of meaningful human connection.

In my inner fantasy landscape i wasn’t this social outcast who struggled to form friendships. I wasn’t this verbally laconic emotionally inarticulate socially marooned individual but a articulate charismatic charming personality. I envisioned myself as a exciting traveller exploring new horizons. Creating this inner terrene was a means to enable my imagination to run free untethered from the constraints of being me and existing in the real world. The world i inhabited was a dull dreary black and white reality. The landscape in my head was a vibrant picturesque inner virtual reality. No boredom no mundanity but a utopian universe of boundless possibilities.

In my childhood the fantasising wasn’t as extensive as it became in my schizoid adulthood it was a background white noise in my infant consciousness. The fantasy land was a realm I retreated towards in these protracted periods of isolation. I had this crippling loneliness this aberrent self perception that i was a alien freak with a personality type which was alarmingly different to my school peers. The escapist mechanism of fantasising was integral in my survival in me functioning as a child with a abnormal personality it kept a semblance of sanity acting as a release valve. In reality i was a loser a bumbling inept child who struggled greatly to integrate with mainstream society. From my infancy i hated myself i was suffused with overwhelming feelings of self loathing. This quirk to escape to a elaborate dreamworld in my atypical character provided a assuagement and escape from being me. This propensity to fantasise prevailed in my personality throughout my childhood. Even as i started to develop socially and became less acutely introverted the need to exist in a fantasy realm persisted. Never liking myself or seeing myself as being a part of the human race. This trait of a atypical personality helped to mitigate the inner suffering the depression I experienced with being me.

This proclivity to fantasise stayed with me from my childhood into my adolescence. Even as i began to have a more normalised average childhood who had healthy friendships with my classmates. Daydreaming disappearing into fantasy role playing in which I could vicariously live through a imagined alter ego perfect version of myself never left me. It wasn’t at the time a symptom of a abnormal personality substituting a lack of emotional intimacy with a idealised inner reality. It was a idiosyncratic quirk of a hyperactive childhood imagination. It wasn’t until i manifested the alarming symptoms of a impairing personality disorder when I started to create a more complex inner fantasy existence.

When I was about 18 the indicators of a severe socially paralysing personality disorder became apparent in my behaviour. Around this pivotal period i had began to dissociate from the world to detach from my essential human relationships. I devolved into a aloof uncommunicative solitary figure as this inner virtual reality was being cultivated in my dysfunctional mind. It was a compensatory mechanism to alleviate the dearth of interpersonal connections i had as a young adult. As the schizoid metastasised in my character I yearned to be alone to disengage to disconnect from society to become a peripheral exiled figure. The genesis of this alter ego character a perfect alternative version of myself was forged in my private parallel universe.

As I abandoned the far fetched illusion of being a successful person who escaped the chains and fences of living in a deprived English town. I relinquished all these grandiose teenage dreams of being a creative charismatic musician who is adored by millions of fans. All the avenues and opportunities of exciting vocational endeavours were being shut down. As my aspirations for love seemed unimaginable due to the hinderances the detrimental symptoms of my disorder. As i regressed i needed this fantasy life as a emotional anaesthesia to ease the pain of being so socially marginalised. Never did i envision that i would turn out this way so alone cut adrift from humanity. I desired a life surrounded by people a life imbued with warmth. The intense anxiety the inability to connect with humans beyond the superficial being incapable to foster profound intimate interconnections lead to being a virtual social recluse. In the inception of my adulthood this alternative inner reality was being augmented in my consciousness. It was fostered as a function of escaping the boredom of my monotonous daily life. A mechanism that enabled me to escape being this alien freak prohibited to partake in normal rudimentary human activities. The inner world was perfect in escaping the self loathing the depression the feelings of depersonalisation.

This intricate universe started to take shape it evolved into something as full formed as vast as complex as actual reality. It was a virtual reality environment that i existed in vicariously, a interior landscape that sufficed me to live out my wildest fantasies. In this virtual imagined province i was truly free not inhabited by the impairments of my maladjusted personality. In my big blue dream the character I created was a socially gregarious verbally eloquent charismatic person. The character I created in my head was the complete antithesis of who i was in reality a ebullient extrovert. This world was so thoroughly intoxicating so much that my self collapsed into it. I disappeared neglecting the beauty the wonder of the real world into this imagined fantastical reality. In this universe i was liberated from the stress of interpersonal relationships. I could have long term romantic attachments without all the agitation all the internal anguish i would endure having this tangible experiences in reality. I could discern this utopian life from the drudgery of actual reality it wasn’t as if i was suffering under the embryonic stages of schizophrenia. Reality became so unappealing with no avenues of human connection that i collapsed into this alluring matrix of my own imagination.

The character I invented for myself to live vicariously through was a charismatic bipolar bisexual aspiring musician. Unlike myself he had the fortitude to pursue his dreams. He had the talent the relentless ambition to achieve his stratospheric goals. Even though he was this idealised version of me this figure was a flawed damaged soul. His extroverted personality diverged from me with his fearless drive his capacity for displays of emotional vulnerability. This person would never hide his innermost feelings wouldn’t retreat to a private fantasy world. Rather than being petrified of being vulnerable appearing emotionally naked informs of people he was this candid open hearted soul. Whereas i am frozen with terror at the mere thought of divulging my deepest darkest secrets to another being. This alternative figure needed to be emotionally naked to intimate friends in order to survive in order to maintain his sanity.

He had the temerity to leave the enclave of his home town my home town to seek a more unconventional bohemian existence. Wanting a life liberated from the drudgery of the rat race from dead end 9 till 5 soul destroying vocations, free from the manacles of family. By venturing into the world embarking on a spiritual and physical adventure he was free form all the noxious fumes of Mayberry. By extracting himself he was free to live a autonomous unbridled bohemian lifestyle. It’s a alternative set of life choices with a diametrically opposed personality type that I’ve created in the tombs of my mind. A alternative existence where i fantasise if i was this adventurous courageous man who broke free and had a completely uninhabited life. I ponder what if I wasn’t so trapped by a extremely introverted personality.

In this utopian fantasy land its a perfect idealised life that i have envisioned as a ambitious precocious teenager. Before the ravages of this pernicious disorder left my dreams crushed never to be fulfilled. In my elaborate fantasy life i map out an entire vibrant colourful lifespan. From early beginnings as a ambitious musician until a tragic death. Firstly i start the journey at the age of 16 where instead of continuing his education he leaves the doldrums of his hometown of Mayberry and embarks on a audacious bohemian adventure. This is the first aberrant act to defy the norms of society to break free from mainstream society and life the life of a aspiring creative artist. To go boldly on a exuberant traversal across various European cities seeing new cultures meeting exciting people. A excursion my timid introverted soul never had the resolve to undertake. I wanted desperately to live the life of a bohemian to traverse the globe as a successful musician. Instead i exist in sadness in regret that i am ensconced in this narrow enclave of Mayberry precluded from seeing the bright neon lights of other cities.

This fantasy existence allowed me to satiate my wanderlust a desire that would never be satisfied due to my severely impaired atypical personality. My alter ego left home abandoning family and was estranged for years from his immediate family. In this reality i castaway the shackles extracted myself from the toxicity of family. I severed the links in a bold act of youthful defiance and ran away. This imagined character was beset with psychological problems with undiagnosed bipolar manic depression. He is paralysed with lifelong mental health ailments. Even though he exists as a idealised version of me this character is besieged with mental health issues. However its a romanticised depiction of the tortured artist who battles with his demons. Who uses his depression as a muse for exemplary work of artistic genius. Ive given my alter ego a more poetic mental illness that doesn’t inhibit his artistic aspirations. A condition which doesn’t impede his desire for fame for love for financial prosperity. It’s a divergence from how my personality disorder has so adversely affected the quality of my life. A disorder that’s rendered me alone without love without friendship in a vapid life devoid of emotional connection.

He traverses across various cities exploring the alluring nightlife. Living as a backpacking traveller using his meagre savings to explore the lush vivacious European cities. It’s the fantasy of leaving behind the boredom of home and flying the cuckoos nest. My alter ego spends months navigating firstly to Paris spending weeks having a carefree hedonistic time. He explores the picturesque Parisian city with its breathtaking art and sublime architectural beauty. Sleeps most of the day and habitually goes out at night to the various Parisian nightclubs. Consuming illicit substances for the first time in his life where he experiments with consciousness altering narcotics which open him up to a new altered perception of reality. He smokes cannabis instantly becomes transfixed with this drug that takes him to higher plains of being. A wondrous drug that transforms his melancholic disposition into transitory moments of nirvana. I have fantasied endlessly about having a a life with taking copious quantities of exhilarating illicit substances. I’m prohibited due to my inability to form relationships and my proclivity for the solitude to purchase to consume these alluring drugs. I imagine getting stoned in my real life I have on sporadic occasions gotten high and on these rare instances it was a glorious experience. I want the daily dosage of being stoned to have that lifestyle you are required to form drug connections with acquaintances to barrel out of the inertia of my hermit shell. I have these illusions of being high having psychedelic drugs transforming my intellectually malnourished brain and Implanting this stimulation into my consciousness.

In this fantasy arena i am getting high with a vivacious extroverted group of friends experiencing these sublime psychedelic adventures. In my imagined life he travels across Europe being introduced to new sensations. Meeting exciting humans where he can explore his sexuality breaking open the barriers of sexually repression. It’s the life of sexual hedonism the lust the canal desires satisfied that I yearned for despite my inclination for the solitude. I desired a extensive range of sexual encounters with a multitude of sexual partners. The harsh reality is I’ve never had a boyfriends or girlfriend had only a singular unfulfilling sexual encounter. I desire greatly with every waking day dreaming of sex and being in love. All of these enriching fundamental human endeavours i have been deprived of due to this crippling disorder.

In this fantastical imagined life in which i am a radically different personality type than the real me. Contrasting not only in terms of being a ebullient charismatic individual but in my physical appearance. In reality i am this ugly repulsive unsightly man who cant even bare to gaze at his grotesque reflection in the mirror. In this fantasy realm my alter ego is this blindly attractive statuesque aesthetically pleasing beauty. His skin is pure and unblemished no spots no scars a immaculate complexion. His teeth when he smiles reveal a beaming iridescent smile. My alter ego never feels the depths of self conscious i endure. Never feels the need to hide his teeth in shame at the hideous smile. He shares comparable traits to me i that he is crippled with a pathological self loathing and doesn’t regard himself as being physically attractive. Despite being the recipient of sexual advances from people who find him sexually magnetic.

In my fantasy creation my alternative self relocates to Amsterdam where he fully explores his sexuality leading a promiscuous lifestyle. Amsterdam is where my alter ego lets go of the constraints of this awkward sexually repressed English teenager. Metamorphosing into a sexually adventurous young man with rapacious sexually appetite. I imagine a number of exhilarating scenarios that my alter ego encounters in a few months as he is located in this vibrant European city. Amsterdam is the locale where he officially loses his virginity. Rather than it being a romantic sentimental experience I imagined the loss of his sexual innocence into adulthood being a seminal moment of almost spiritual awakening. I have imagined my alter ego loses his virginity to a buxom Dutch prostitute. A lady prostitute of exceptional beauty with a voluptuous physique and fiery red hair and a body clothed in crimson attire. A figure of pure sexual fantasy that takes him to stratospheric states of sexual ecstasy. This women i imagine who introduces him to the wonders of erotic pleasure is the image of physical perfection that exist in my mind. The voluptuous hour glass body type the red hair the rouge lips with a red dress all are paradisiacal images that satisfy my sexual appetite. The sexual desires that will never be satisfied or validated in the real world. I can only dream about receiving this level of sexual bliss with a almost celestial beauty. My alter ego loses his virginity and its starting point for the rest if his adult life for losing himself in a hedonistic sensual life.

In the months he resides in Amsterdam he spends his saving living as a bohemian. He dreams of being famous being a venerated artist finding affirmation through notoriety. Amsterdam is the commencement of that colourful journey towards the actualisation of these grandiose visions of a auspicious career. In this alternative imagined life he embarks on a excess of sexual partners in the Venice of the north. He frequents the gay clubs to satiate his voracious sexual desires. At the same time he habitually visits the cafes by indulges his passion for mind altering hallucinogens. It’s the unconventional uninhabited alluring life free form the slavery of the 9 till 5 job. A life free from the oppressive forces of work and family. A truly autonomous life where he exist for new experiences new sensations new intoxicating characters. It’s a stark contrast to the boring isolated rut of a life i am cursed to endure. In the fantasy realm there’s no unfulfilled unrealised passions dreams and sexual desires are attained. Finding a alleviation of suicidal depression and self loathing with him forging genuine human connection in the picturesque streets of Amsterdam.

In my parallel imagined life with my polar opposite personality type he is a young man survives on a few thousand pounds of savings. He lives on the outskirts of society consuming illicit chemicals. He embarks on a series of casual sexual encounters with other men. At this pivotal moment he is still confused on his sexuality where on the sexual spectrum he lies cant decide whether he’s gay or bisexual. Sex is a validation of his existence to be regarded as physically alluring by other gay men. These sexual encounters are connections based purely on lust they are not encounters with individuals he shares a profound connection with. This life of hedonism is the life I always desired to have if i was a gregarious extrovert who had the social acuity to participate in this promiscuous lifestyle. In this fantasy arena i am consuming a cornucopia of narcotic stimulants to enhance the homoerotic sexual escapades. Snorting cocaine taking speed in gay nightclubs then engaging in pure hedonistic excess with other young men. These one night stands occur over a number of weeks where my alter ego becomes unconstrained from the chains of family of tradition of his previous repressed self. He forgets abandons entirely the agony of family. Abandon the lifeless vacuum of Mayberry to explore the rich universe of humanity.

In Amsterdam he continue to indulge his senses to expand his consciousness by taking marijuana whilst religiously devoting himself to the playing of the guitar. Playing for hours at a time in the fervid hope of mastering this musical instrument. This period in Amsterdam is not only when he is sexually emancipated but where his impressionable mind is turned on by great works of literature and poetry. Devoting all his free time towards reading revered poetry and eminent novelists. His mind is opened up to a fertile world of esteemed art. His childhood in Mayberry was a childhood deprived of culture where I wasn’t encouraged to illuminate my imagination with reading enrapturing verse and prose.

This pivotal period in my imagined existence in Amsterdam culminates in his first experience of being in love of discovering true emotional intimacy with another human. He falls in love with a man it is a heavenly life altering episode of this imagined life. A older Dutch man called David who he falls madly in love with in short ecstatic moment in my characters life. It’s a intense 2 month long romantic affair which serves as a brutal education into the agony and elation of being in love. This kind of intimacy this feeling of falling in love only exists in the depths of my imagination. My imagined fantasy character is able to articulate his poignant feelings for David with clarity with aplomb. Being vulnerable removing the mask of emotional repression is a quality my alter ego has which I greatly envy.

In this brief blissful spell he develops he matures as a person experiencing grievous pain as a result of being in love. He never hides behind a cloak of emotional numbness he engages deeply with the world with the human race. In my actual life I’m too petrified to be that candid a person to terrified to be completely vulnerable with another soul. I have these rare opportunities at happiness at love and never grasp these fleeting openings at love remaining this guarded aloof figure petrified of love of the tumult of being in love. Hence i hide from real tangible love and disappear into the allure of the fantasy environment where the anxiety of human interrelations isn’t their but i can experience emotional attachments in this utopian idealised world.

My idealised character feels for the first time the joy the emotional turbulence of love. It’s a profound learning experience as he is introduced into the world of adults to the infinite beauty of love and art. He is inaugurated into the bohemian milieu of Amsterdam into a exciting subculture of musicians, poets, printers, and writers. A fertile environment of creativity of excessive consumption of transformational psychedelic drugs that expand his teenage imagination. David my lover is abstract painter in his early thirties who imbues in him a fervent passion for life and art. The abrupt affair with David is a glorious education in love in the spiritual beauty of being in love in having intimacy with another soul sharing your bodies and innermost feelings. That level of intimacy I have discovered in reality so elusive almost unattainable with my asocial personality type. The imagined love is paradisiacal with their bodies rendered incandescent with the intensity of their connection.

This love romance lasted for months then ends abruptly. It was like awaking from a heavenly dream into a brutal nightmare of the harsh reality of being alone. The love as transitory as it was in this fantasy world is a place I revisit endlessly despite the fact it ends tragically the affair provides sustenance for my love starved soul. My alter ego after feeling the acid pain of being alone again of having his fragile heart shattered into shards of glass descends into a black dog of depression and suicidal contemplations. He suffers his first existential crisis seriously excogitating ending his life. Despite being a perfect version of me with a diametrically opposed personality he is a flawed damaged person. However his flaws his demons are muses for his artistic creations bringing him success. His defects are exposed to the world without evasion or reticent. My personality glitches my darkness are hidden away in the tunnels of my consciousness never to be articulated to another soul.

He realises he has to depart from Amsterdam and relocate to another enticing European city. He struggles with depression with the deep seated emotional scars of this intense romantic engagement he has with David. He takes his sadness his ambitions for artistic greatness takes his meagre savings he has left after months of profuse drug taking and departs to another beguiling city.

In my imagined existence of imagined version of me realising my lofty aspirations this imagined character embarks on his next enticing adventure in the majestic city of Dublin. It’s a city I’ve always exalted I’ve romanticised in my vast imagination. Dublin is my version of Paris a city in which illusions of love of meeting a soul mate can be actualised. It’s the city i had dreams of visiting or perhaps emigrating to if I wasn’t so acutely socially impaired with the detrimental symptoms of a schizoid personality. In my virtual inner world my alter ego figure migrates to Dublin after the turmoil of having his heart broken. He moves to this vibrant poetic city allowing himself to escape the depression the negative memories of a broken affair that had so much promise. He moves into the most deprived area of this cultural city.

He lives initially a humdrum life living on the outskirts of society. Not knowing anybody feeling like a alien in a strange land. He is desperate to cultivate meaningful connections with people wanting to break out of the hollow of despair after the cession of his tumultuous romance with David. For a cursory moment he abandons his bohemian unconventional life for a more prescriptive ordered 9 till 5 insipid life. Working in a factory earning a paltry wage making barely enough to survive. He resides in a crime ridden block of flats where there is a epidemic of drug addiction and homelessness. His bleak desolate backdrop serves as a muse for his creative pretentious. However his situation his living quarters the prosaic employment seem a million miles from these grand illusionary envisions of fame. This is a point in which my fantasy life runs parallel pattern to my reality. Where this idyllic imagined life seems comparable to my forlorn life. He finds himself completely alone in a strange city not knowing anybody barely surviving in soul destroying poverty inducing employment. His life ruins a duplicate pattern to my bleak existence however he resides in a different city and his extracted himself form the pernicious tentacles of family.

He still unlike me holds a flickering candle of a dream of musical eminence that he assumes will nullify the myriad of psychological problems he is afflicted with. He hasn’t yet neglected his musician vocation he writes poetry voraciously. Composing bountiful musical verse that will one day become seminal songs that be viewed as anthems of a generation. He persists with his intellectual literary education in reading lionised works of European literature in the hope it will inspire him to birth sublime songwriting creations. This is how he occupies his free time away from the drudgery the mental slavery of his factory work existing as a virtual recluse religiously devoted to his calling of being a musician. Working fervently to enhance his musical prowess with the electric guitar. Playing day and night working diligently to elevate his musical proficiency. At this juncture in his life he has sunk into the valley of despair. He lives without the ameliorating benefit of friendship living a life devoid of any meaningful human interaction. He exists as a marginalised figure occupying a dark flat with minimal possessions. He struggles to function with the detrimental conditions of his undiagnosed untreated mental illness. This might seem perverse that I fantasise a perfect life with a character completely alone submerged in depression. Yet in my damaged mind its a romanticised view of the starving tortured artist having a prolonged period of being socially exiled living in the wilderness.

My alter ego is on a precipitous downward spiral towards suicide. It’s a fatalistic path he is descending to after the glory of the preceding months travelling across Europe having transformative life altering experiences. Then one day his his melancholic life chances irrevocably with a chance meeting with a magnetic stranger. On a rainy Dublin night he is drowning his sorrows in a Dublin bar. Not engaging in fluent verbose exchanges with the fellow drinkers at this traditional Dublin drinking establishment. He sits down getting increasingly intoxicated in his solitude then in this dank public establishment appears a Venus a overpowering image of feminism beauty. In my fantasy life this is the most momentous moment when his life transformed with this serendipitous meeting with a coruscating Irish beauty. When he falls in love with a beguiling voluptuous Irish redhead and has that lifelong emotional attachment that’s been so glaringly absent in my vapid life. In my reality the fantasy the nirvana if being in love of having sublime transcendental sex never happened for me.

In this utopian virtual reality existence a stunningly attractive curvaceous Irish redhead walks into this particular bar walking into my characters life. Like an angle descending from heaven she appears to save him from the wretchedness of depression saving him from his downward spiral into oblivion. She engages him in conversation treating him like a equal making him feel human. Up until this pivotal moment he had been going down a dark path towards suicide. He had been meandering in a directionless empty life existing as a complete stranger in a strange new city. Then this Irish angel materialised in his life and the iridescent glow of her effervescent warm personality washed away all the sadness. In this night he and this ethereal Irish nymph named Corrina had a instantaneous attraction to each other. As she laughed engaged in discursive loquacious conversations he was mystified why this heavenly creature was so interested in him asking himself why is she flirting with laughing at my jokes. It was a wondrous night of laughing, drinking and flirtatious intercommunication. A night where he breaks the vicious cycle of the bleak lonely life.

Corrina is this perfect vision of feminine beauty that exists in my imagination. A luscious Irish redhead with generous physical proportions who exudes this aura of warmth and kindness. This women exists in the real world but my maladjusted personality is precluded from broaching a conversation with a intimating beauty. I never make myself physically or emotionally available so the chances of falling in love seem remote. If this scenario occurred in actual reality I wouldn’t partake in small talk i would become overwhelmed with the stress the awkwardness conversing with a buxom photogenic redhead. I would hide inside my hermit shell put on the schizoid mask of aloof and indifference despite having these unexpressed libidinous desires. He unlike myself grasps this opportunity with vigour with a lust for being alive. Participating in deep conversation with this women of porcelain complexion and finds a soul who pulls him up of the funk the suicidal thoughts that had preoccupied his mind since the collapse of this affair with the Dutch painter.

The night concludes with him walking Corrina home to her student apartment. As they reach her apartment they embrace in a passionate hug whilst making a sincere promise to reconnect on a actual romantic date. After this transformative encounter he is imbued with feelings of joy of hope the crushing weight of heartbreak has lifted away. Certain that he has just had a connection with the love of his life with a person who he might just spend the rest of his adult life in close intimate proximity with. He has the overwhelming sensation of being in love of meeting his saviour. A angelic sentient being that will be a figure of comfort of emotional blanket that will protect him in periods of prolonged suicidal depression. Corrina in the future will be his muse who will inspire prominent work of songwriting genius.

This is the most consequential night of my alter egos life where he meets his soul mate his creative muse. A women who opens up his mind to a vast ocean of possibilities. A Irish seductress who exposes his impressionable mind to the artistic community in Dublin she ingrains him a confidence to fulfil his prodigious talent in the field of music. Corrina this beacon of light who gives him blinding rays of hope that will protect him in the darkest time when he seriously contemplates suicide. This life defining experience is another example of how my imagined perfect life takes a radically divergent path than me. In my pathetic ostracised life there have been fleeting rare opportunities of love of happiness which have been presented to me. Like a coward I’ve have run from these brief windows of finding love.

In my big blue dream my alter ego has his spirits elevated from a abject despondent state to this elated state of consciousness. He saunters home with blood pulsating in his veins with illusions of love with a new revitalised list for life. This once barren bleak vista is transformed into a lush land of promise. Walking home to his dingy grim 1 bedroom flat in the most deprived impoverished area of Dublin with a renewed zest for being alive. The dysphoria he felt upon relocating to Dublin has monetarily departed from his melancholic spirit. He arrives to his abode in the decrepit setting but his adolescence head is transfixed by his chance encounter with a ravishing women of his dream. Just interacting with Corrina for a evening floods his consciousness with inspiration as he spends the night composing poetry inspired by meeting this angel who descended form heaven. For days after connecting with Corrina her arresting beguiling countenance is imprinted in the consciousness of his young mind.

He maintains his mundane menial employment which pays him barely enough to survive. All the while being obsessed with this voluptuous charismatic redhead. At home in his protracted isolation he writes epic lines of poetic verse galvanised by meeting such a enchanting women. He waits patiently for another rendezvous wanting to be introduced to her circle of friends to finally break the cycle of terminal loneliness.

In Dublin at this time he is comparable to my life in that he exists without meaningful human contact having no friends no acquaintances. Only encountering humans at work of the infrequent encounters with his neighbours. In which he finds great solace in these rare human conversations. Even if it’s with a neighbours who’s ravaged by drug addiction who exists on the outskirts of society. Now this fateful encounter takes him out of the mire of social deprivation out of the bleak future he was aimlessly falling into.

A week came to pass when he finally plucked up the moxie to arrange a legitimate date with Corrina. It would be a momentous evening that alters his life irrevocably for the better. He arranges a night out at a restaurant in Dublin in the heart of this vibrant city. This is the memorable evenings of romance of dining of conversation and drinking i endlessly fantasise about. With meeting the love of your life having a profound spiritual connection with another human being. Being entirely vulnerable to be uninhabited being unafraid to bare your soul to another person. Falling in love going on a paradisiacal date in which 2 lost souls find the spark of love in his cruel savage world. This empyrean night never happened to me, i have been deprived of love never embarked on a date never had the gumption or fortitude to ask out another person on a date. Never been the object of lustful advances i have remained a ghost to the human race a asexual aloof social dream.

In the fantasy landscape this date is the continuation of his auspicious journey towards the treasure chest of love. I visualise in my mind every specific minuscule detail of this sublime night out. Fantasising about him getting ready making this self conscious neurotic individual feel alluring when taking a heavenly beauty of pure physical perfection on a date. Even in his existence he finds it unbelievable almost unfathomable why a shimmering Irish nymph is attracted to him physically or enticed by his personality. Yet despite these paralysing self doubts swirling in his neurotic adolescent brain he recognises the fantastical possibility of going on a date which might lead to passionate sex to a lifetime of spiritual ecstasy. Before he departs outside to a fateful date he clothes his scrawny ashen body in his most comely attire. Then he checks his pasty visage in the bathroom mirror before embarking on a date of destiny.

As he traverses towards the chosen restaurant his body and soul is consumed with panic attack inducing anxiety with the weight of expectation. Never before has he felt so infatuated with another person not even with his brief tumultuous affair with david were these amorous feelings so intense. Now as walks with nervous energy he is near to the restaurant close to Corrina his luscious date. His heart is pounding at a accelerated pace. He can barely walk from the fervent of anticipation swarming round his body.

Then the moment arrives he reaches his destination his destiny awaits inside the restaurant he sees this iridescent celestial beauty beckoning him to enter the restaurant. She welcomes him in to a night of enrapturing jovial conversation with the enticing possibility of physical and emotional euphoric bliss. As he beholds Corrina adorned in a seductive costume his consciousness floods with psychedelic visions of love. Then his eyes fix upon this Greek goddess who’s body is draped in a sea of crimson clothing. She has fiery red hair red lips a low cut red dress which reveals her voluptuous figure. Corrina is the idealised image of a women he wanted to fall in love with a women adorned in a vision of red a seductive sensual colour that electrifies his libidinous desires. The dream the ecstasy of having a date interacting with a sensuous crimson haired Irish women. She is the archetypal vision of female perfection my fantasy of a perfect physical form. A women who also possesses many of the positive personality attributes. A women who exudes warmth and humanity a extroverted gregarious person who would give him the courage the support to overcome his demons. This opportunity this fortuitous chance meeting at happiness never occurred in my love starved emotionless wasteland of a life.

In my inner world the date commences they sit down at the trendy eatery. The conversation is initially uncomfortable. Then as the nerves subside the repartee flows as they recommence their cordial human connection. Corrina conducts the majority of the talking in her effusive loquacious verbal manner. My alter ego sits there in awe in transfixed nirvana at this beauty envisioning how this relationship will flourish in the future. He gazes intensely into Corrinas luminescent sparkling green eyes that eminent kindness. He looks upon her sensual passionate red lips his body tingles with excitement that this Irish nymph is sexually attracted to him. On this transformative date filled with effusive conversion a date amplified with laughter, on this date there is a bond a cosmic connection that transpires over the course of the evening. He feels a serenity a heavenly blissed out state just existing in the vicinity of this Irish angel. The date in his exemplary Dublin eating establishment lasts for a couple of hours in the romantic ambience. This date is my idealised vision of a perfect with laughter with eloquent fluent verbal exchanges. With the tantalising promise of physical consummation of love.

In this imagined idyllic first real date Corrina and my alter ego have devoured a bountiful quantity of various alcoholic beverages. They are intoxicated with the side effects of profuse intake of alcoholic libations and are intoxicated with the drug of desire. After many hours of exhilarating interlocution the couple settle the bill depart from the romantic ambience of the trendy restaurant into the picturesque Dublin nighttime.

The time is fast approaching midnight they stroll casually interlocking their arms around their youthful bodies. It’s a radiant clear night in Dublin where they are transfixed at the majestic beauty of the cosmos illuminated in the skyline. The couple hands feeling electrified with sexual fervour. This imagined idealised date is everything I perpetually fantasise about with sadness at the lack of love and physical intimacy in my pathetic existence. To be loved to be touched to have a poignant connection with a beautiful person who’s very ameliorating presence dissolves all the self loathing. On this date that only exists in my overactive imagination the beguiled couple arrive at her student accommodation. His body is tingling with the tantalising promise of a passionate kiss of those honeyed sensuous lips with the dream of sexual intercourse.

Corrina invites him inside her apartment he is transfixed by her majestic porcelain skin and her curvaceous sensual body. They get inside her comely aesthetically pleasing student accommodation. His heart is pounding at the heavenly feasibility of sexual intercourse. He scrutinises the living room quarters of this lush multi roomed apartment he looks at the surroundings filled with art hanging on the walls sees a assortment of musical instruments including a classical piano. The aesthetic the decor of this artistic student abode are the antithesis of the decor of his sparsely decorated bleak flat. The area of Dublin where this apartment is situated is a more affluent area of the city. The architecturally pleasing apartment is located in the bohemian artistic quarter of Dublin. Where he lived was in the crime and drug infested region of the city. His part of city was permeated with drug addicts homelessness and individuals living on the outskirts of society. In Corrinas apartment which was cohabited with her fellow student comrades was a vastly contrasting environment to his impoverished area of Dublin. It’s a world of colour of young aspirational idealistic bohemians living in a artistic fertile area.

On this glorious night the apartment was vacant there’s only him and the luscious corrina with the tantalising promise of carnal satisfaction. Corrina rolled a joint whilst playing romantic classical music that reverberated across all the rooms of the apartment. The music helped create a more serene amorous ambience in the living room. The cannabis infused joint was smoked together they shared this psychoactive substance. Now as well as being throughly intoxicated with the copious units of alcohol they consumed at the restaurant they were stoned immaculate feeling the euphoric effects of this wonderful illicit narcotic. Consuming this chemical with the music blaring in the background helped to intensify the sexual energy in this colourful vibrant apartment. The cannabis served as a percent aphrodisiac taking him to a elevated heavenly state helping to alleviate the anxiety he was feeling earlier in the evening before the excessive devouring of intoxicants. As the joint was finished the potent effects were being felt by the erotically charged couple. After they finished the joint they kissed it was a kiss of love of electrified erotic embrace. A physical demonstration of the love they felt for each other a kiss a manifestation of love i am precluded for ever experiencing in reality. This elongated amorous embrace served as foreplay for the now inevitable possibility of sexual gratification. The beneficial effects of the smoked hallucinogen were flowing deep in our altered state of consciousness. Then corrina requested that they entered into her private kingdom into her bedroom.

It’s obvious they were going to consummate their burning desire for each other. She beyond all rational sense found him attractive and he apparently possessed many of the alluring personality characteristics that made this voluptuous sensual Irish beauty want to sleep with him. As he accessed corrina boudoir the decor of the room is awash in these feminine colours. His stoned mind was racing with anticipation at the majestic realisation they were about to have sex. The kind of passionate intimate sex that i have sadly been deprived of in my lonely empty life. In fantasy my desires are satisfied in this paradisiacal imagined vision of passionate lovemaking. Corrina sits with him on her bed he lays down in his stoned chemical altered state. She gently gets undressed removing individual items of clothing in a slow and measured manner. The gradualness of the undressing only serves to heighten the sexual energy that pulsated through his teenage body. This will be the first instance he will be engaging in sexual intercourse with a women he has deep emotional feelings for. It is a seminal moment in my characters life where a pathway opens up into a exciting world of sexual gratification in the physical perfection of sex. This essential human experience which due to my debilitating disorder have been denied from participating in. In the harshness of reality i will never get to taste the sweet honeyed fruits of sex. In this elaborate fantasy universe a imagined version of me can acquire the sublime experiences of sex and love.

On this night of initiation into immaculate pleasure into a realm of spiritual nirvana My alter ego feels his body feeling his blood race at the tantalising prospect of sex. Corrina this angelic beauty slowly reveals her perfect voluptuous naked body. She presents this perfect image of feminine beauty. She was vulnerable and unafraid at the same time wanting him to be inaugurated into a heavenly world of shared erotic bliss. Her naked frame displays her prefect ample breasts with curvaceous hips and a body bereft of any imperfection. Corrina in her naked vulnerability asks him his thoughts on her flawless Irish body. He’s was struck inarticulate not being able to verbally elucidate his feeling upon seeing this wondrous naked vision.

Corrina then politely asked if he wanted to reciprocate and reveal his skinny ashen teenage body. He agreed to her request with trepidation slowly removing items of clothing until he was completely naked. Rather then being repulsed by his lean pencil frame corrina beyond all logical explanation found him physically attractive. He in that moment felt fiercely vulnerable and discovered the transformative beauty of 2 naked souls experiencing cosmic intimacy. As he and his Irish lover are naked they make rapturous love connecting as one. He felt the lead weight of the sadness the loneliness the self loathing evaporate in these moments of erotic elevation. The passionate voracious lovemaking lasts for hours it’s the immaculate flawless sex that only exists in depths of my imagination or in pornography. It’s him by chance meeting a perfect women of his dreams with long flowing auburn hair and generous physical proportions taking him into stratospheric levels of bliss.

After many hours of intense fornication they adjourn to be 2 quavering young bodies lying together in a blissed out state of oneness having a emotional kinship which would last for eternity. It’s the physical fruition of being in love of having fearless intimacy that i will always be excluded from due to my socially impairing disorder. I have fantasied about this euphoric night of love and sex complemented with the consumption of consciousness altering drugs continuously. I repeat it in my love starved consciousness, frequently its a sad reminder of the emptiness of my real life. In my dreamland of a perfect existence my alternative self has a blissful sleep wakes up a radically altered human being. A individual in love inducted into the magical theatre of fulfilled realised sexual fantasies.

He wakes up in this terra incognito landscape. A world of love of emotional and sexual validation. In this world he is transformed from the mire of suicidal depression into a heavenly state in this heavenly place of corrinas bedroom. In a bedroom adorned in flowery wallpaper with a abundance of flowers and plants filling this artistic bedroom. A decor that has a aura of femininity and warmth with the flower colours and exorbitant amounts of flowers and house plants inside corrinas private sleeping quarters. As he and his new lover awakened from their enchanted slumber. She looks passionately into his iridescent vulnerable eyes they share a exquisite kiss a emblem of their immortal spiritual bond. The type of love that seems so unattainable so unimaginable to me that can only exist fo me in my wild imagination.

Then they arise from a horizontal position in corrinas boudoir and he is introduced into her circle of artists student who reside in this multi roomed apartment. The student occupied apartment is a 4 bedroomed filled with a variety of students studying in art based studies. It’s a den of creativity a salon where ideas are discussed. A fertile environment where artistic talent was allowed to flourish to flower without fear of ridicule or failure. These wonderful young Irish students greeted him with stereotypical Irish friendliness and amiability. He was imbued with something i have never had in my own existence a real connection with a large tribe of acquaintances. Where his personality was accepted where he could live emancipated form his inhibitions as a consequence if being initiated into a circle of bohemians.

Over breakfast they shared lucid conversations they talked about their creative aspirations he divulged about his past his current bleak living situation. Then corrina sauntered in fresh from the shower she sat right by his side holding his hand and the butterflies of love ran through his youthful body. This is the fantasy of love and friendship that is so elusive a illusory dream that will never attained in reality.

In my inner fantasy my alter ego leaves this idyllic apartment situated in the more cultured artistic area of Dublin to my bleak desolate residence. Corrina frequently visits his minimalist flat she has no qualms no prejudges about dating somebody who resides in a impoverished neighbourhood who is a starving artist. He cautiously shows her his poetry which he hopes will one day be translated into iconic music. Corrina rather than rejecting these youthful embryonic artistic creations was blown away by the lyrical eloquence of his poetic verse. Many of these poems were about corrina who by now had become his muse. I have this wild vision of him showing corrina his poetic compositions and she is overcome by the beauty of his poetry bursts into tears and embraces him in a impassioned hug. Only in my vast imagination are these beautiful experiences seem plausible and tangible.

Corrina not only provides him with a artistic awakening but also was this figure of encouragement that give him renewed self confidence in his ability to become a successful artist. That he firmly believed he had the musical acuity to succeed as a musician and songwriter. This was a momentous period of his life where he engaged in the early stages of a everlasting love affair and was also inducted into a circle of friends. Irish friends which would provide him with comfort and sanctuary from his emotional tribulations.

The most important friendships within this intimate group of young artist that he cultivated was with a young man named Cillian O’Connor a charismatic guitarist and painter. It’s with Cillian he develops a profound musical kinship with. He will become his primary artistic collaborator who will share his success and with their songwriting partnership they will conquer the world experiencing the wonders of fame and musical eminence. In the early stages of their friendship they bonded deeply over music, mainly rock music. Music was the catalyst for their artistic connection it’s where they formulate their profound essential friendship. The type of intimate homoerotic connection that’s so lacking in my solitary life. I yearn for that platonic spiritual connection with another man a deep kinship that endures over throughout our adulthood. Instead i have to resort to fantasising about having a companion like Cillian.

When we first met cillian was 17 going to art college where he was studying creative arts and design. His primary passion was music passions which were elucidated through his immaculate playing of the guitar. His secondary artistic pursuit he excelled at was the visual arts where he painted abstract artistic visions on the canvass. Mainly though he had a overriding insatiable desire to be a rockstar to be a iconic immortalised venerated musician. With my alter ego cillian found a musical soulmate a person who could fulfil his lofty ambitions. In my imagined existence my alter ego is a underdeveloped guitarist who is still learning to master his craft. With the teachings and inspiration of cillian he was able to undergo a metamorphosis into a consummate guitarist. This miraculous transformation occurred over the course of a few months in which he dogmatically devoted himself to improving his proficiency with the guitar. This obsessively devotion to his guitar enabled him to become a highly dexterous guitarist.

In my inner world i envisage a wondrous night out with his tight group of Dubliner cohorts. It’s a life changing night which is fuelled by abundant intake of alcoholic libations and illicit substances. This is the genesis of his poignant friendships are formed on this pivotal night out on the effervescent streets and clubs of Dublin. A night where indelible bonds are cultivated over our shared love of music. These friendships were forged shortly after he commenced his tumultuous relationship with his ravishingly Irish goddess.

A couple of weeks after falling for Corrina and consummating their love, she encourages him fervently to relocate to her more affluent cultured apartment located in a artistic alcove of Dublin. She wants him to make a significant brave commitment in the nascent stage of their blossoming relationship. Again in reality i would never take this courageous step. My asocial personality that craves solitude has acute disquiet over living in close proximity with anybody. My fantasy creation finds this level of intimacy considerably more preferable indeed he needs intimacy as a emotional crutch to mitigate his bouts of depression. He moves in with corrina shortly after she vehemently requested he relocated to her apartment. Moving in with corrina and a intimate group of artists, students, and struggling ambitions free spirited extroverts who are living a unconventional life. It’s a imagined exciting full life surrounded by beautiful exemplars of humanity who turn him on to exemplary works of literature, poetry and art. It’s a idealised existence i desired but because of my atypical character I have to resort to creating elaborative immersive fantasy universe to vicariously experience this romanticised fantasy of being a struggling artist.

Corrina invites him into this arena of intellectual discussion of fertile artistic collaboration. It’s not only a magical world of love where he’s sheltered from the storms of depression but a environment that his precocious artistic talent can flourish in. She invited me like an angel into a life of sex, love, being hugged being treated as a human being with value. I imagine this life where illicit drugs are voraciously consumed. Where he digests a daily diet of weed combined with amphetamine stimulants to enhance his prolific creative output and enhance the pleasure of being alive. He experiments in the safety of his newly founded circle of friends with powerful psychedelic consciousness shifting drugs. These innumerable drugs experiences these psychedelic trips are of great benefit to his creativity. They give him inspiration for new ideas for mew poems new songwriting compositions. I have always dreamed about devouring a cornucopia of psychoactive and stimulant drugs that expand my narrow perception of reality. The impediments of my social dysfunctional personality make it impossible to procure these enticing mind altering chemicals.

I envisage getting stoned with corrina enjoying mind blowing intercourse. In my inner fantasy universe I regularly fantasise about having sex whilst high on magic mushrooms or on lsd. Combining sex with cocaine its the life of a hedonistic libertine I wanted but never had the fortitude or extroverted personality to live this type of lifestyle. A fully hedonistic uninhabited vivacious life free from the chains and walls of my disorder can only be actualised in my imagination.

This is the life he envisioned for himself in his teenage years before his transcendence into musical immortality. Even though this fantasy creation is a exemplary version of me. This alternative character I’ve invented in my head is far from a perfect human being. He’s a flawed antihero who is afflicted with prolonged bouts of depression. I have created this bipolar artist tortured with untreated suicidal depression. The depression will inspire him to create exquisite poetry and musical songs. In his adolescent period his mental illness remains a untreated suffering regaulary from acute bouts of black dog depression which regularly threatens his fragile finite existence.

After coexisting with corrina for a number of months she becomes convinced that he is afflicted with a undiagnosed mental illness. Her love her boundless compassion compelled her to demand her lover to seek help for his untreated psychosis. In my reality i never had a special person who cared deeply enough to push me towards the enormous psychological benefits of speaking with a qualified professional therapist. Instead in protracted isolation my symptoms and illness has festered like a virus infecting my entire body. Corrina recognises his untreated psychological condition forcing him with her indomitable unconditional love to seek the ameliorating help of a therapist. He hates the idea of going to a therapist and divulging his darkest secrets. Corrina has to drag him kicking and screaming Into this terrifying arena of psychotherapy. In this alternative reality he has that emotional support network that impels to see a trained therapist. The treatment sessions allows him to take prescribed medications enabling him to mitigate the symptoms of his mental illness. The therapy helps him to alleviate the depression it also serves to stimulate his poetic writings. Having a qualified therapist where he confides his darkest innermost feelings his fears is a tremendous advantage for his further endeavour as a venerated rock star.

His coerced decision to visit a therapist is another glaring example of where my alter ego and myself have taken radially divergent pathways in life. In not having the gumption to seek the psychological healing embrace of a counsellor or a therapist has detrimentally affected my personality the quality of my mental health. In the matrix of my imagination the therapy prevents him from committing these injurious self destructive acts. He despite the therapy sessions regularly self harms still contemplates suicide. In his teenage adolescent period he is compelled to cover up these self mutilated wounds only revealing his masochistic actions to his therapist. This future rock god has to undergo frequent treatment on various depression and rehab centres. The therapy the prescription medication helps to alleviate the symptoms of his bipolar depression however it doesn’t thwart entirely his spirals into suicidal depression.

I imagine his life from 17 until he is 21 when he is a struggling artist learning his craft learning to adjust to his mental disorder. In these formative period before he actualises his grandiose ambitions of success he exists mostly as a unemployed bohemian artist spending the majority of his free time writing imaginative exemplary poetry. Spending numerous hours dedicated to improving his virtuosity with the guitar with the piano. In between his obsessive compulsive dedication towards his artistic passions his love for corrina continues to blossom. It is a tumultuous passionate relationship having incessant arguments where they broke up and made up on a regular basis. I envision this perfect fragile intimate connection with him and corrina. Where she is his vital buttress protecting him from his destructive suicidal tendencies. She is his muse for his future works of lyrical genius.

His adolescent pre fame years were occupied with insatiable consumption of a array of narcotics that stimulate that inspire his lyrical eloquent writings. Mainly though he is this unemployed starving artist struggling with a paralysing mental illness. In my twisted maladjusted imagination its a idealised romanticised vision of artist struggling to discover a modicum of recognition for his prodigious talent. It’s a poetic impression of a young artist endeavouring to survive with being emotional tortured with being afflicted with protracted bouts of severe depression.

In this pivotal juncture of his life he’s still cultivating his talent by performing live. He takes the courageous act of forcing himself to be vulnerable by performing original poetry at bohemian clubs. Clubs in which poets stand ups avant agree artist debut their creations. Concurrently as he developing his poetry style with live performance he accepts a invitation from his best friend cillian intro his rock band. This undiscovered band is a indie band called the beatniks. Named after the infamous group of seminal writers that emerged in the 1950’s who adopted a unconventional lifestyle. My alter ego like me was enamoured with the writings the lifestyle philosophies of the beatniks and drew immense inspiration from the novels of jack kerouac, the seminal poetry of Alamein Ginsberg.

The musical ambitions were beginning to take shape as the beatniks continued to perform and write new material. The writing and performing of poetry was a method where he developed his lyrical talents in the hope of emulating his literary and musical idols. He idealised artists such as Bob Dylan, led zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix influential voices of a generation bands like nirvana and joy division. There are his and his band mates sources of inspiration who’s musical brilliance would inspire prodigious works of songwriting excellence.

In the years before they broke through and became successful he was crippled with depression. He relied on prescription anti depressant medication to balance his moods to alleviate his suicidal predilections. On one critical occasion he was blighted for weeks with a relentless oppressive depressed state. Then in an act of desperation he requested his divine lover corrina if she would assist him in ending his painful existence. Rather than it being a legitimate suicide attempt its a desperate cry for help. In this world we has the moxie to divulge his darkest feelings of suicide to his lover. We have the mental acuity to express his despairing feelings to ameliorate a dark psychological situation through an extreme act of emotional revelation. After this extroverted cry fo help he is convinced to enter a depression centre. A safe space where he can rehabilitate and receive essential treatment for his injurious mental illness. In his life his bipolar manic depression will habitually result in him having to stay in rehab depression centres and occasionally mental institutions.

This is the first instance of him voluntarily entering a place where he will be treated for his clinical depression. The first of numerous occasions in which he is required to stay for a prolonged period of time at a rehab centre to treat his psychological condition. In this particular depression centre the patients are young people in drastic need of treatment for a variety of issues. Mainly the centre is permeated with patients suffering from clinical depression. This is also young patients suffering with drug addiction with eating disorders.

My alter ego who exists solely in my head is lost in the darkness and shadows of his tortured fractured mind. Convinced he’ll be unable to carry on breathing the sweet oxygen of life. His mind mired in consumed with thoughts of suicide contemplating innumerable methods of ending his life. He enters the facility for the social outcasts for those afflicted with life threatening metal illnesses. This brief period where he resides in a spiritual rejuvenating ambience of a depression centre. A centre in which can connect with other comrades broken beaten by their addictions by psychosis. In this dublin rehab centre for lost souls there are drug addicts, anorexics, those who have long term depression. In this place of healing he through months of group therapy sessions through daily psychological analysis is able to overcome his life threatening black dog depression. The months away from the hum and mire of the austere world cloistered in this serene beneficial environment. He is able to mediate to introspect to full recover from a bleak sustained period of depression.

He’s able to revitalise his weary soul to find new inspiration by connecting with amazing people who share their painful stories. Having these shared experiencing in a locale in which everyone is free from the judgement of normal people. Gives him new insight into other mental conditions that blight a young persons development into adulthood. There is one extraordinary human being that he meet in this rehab centre. A person who makes a significant impact on his life. This individual is a 20 year old women named cara who’s been acutely afflicted with anorexia eating disorder. She’s painfully emaciated to the point she faces great adversity in even walking. Cara has to resort to use a walking stick as a support for her fragile painfully skinny frame. In this depression centre she has become his confident he intimate acquaintance. In this depression centre catered for young people you are assigned a companion who shares a beneficial alliance assisting each other in your recovery and redemption form your condition. Cara is assigned to my alter ego who assists him, they forge a platonic intimate connection.

Since the age of 12 cara has been blighted with a life threatening eating disorder. Never seeing herself as beautiful having this distorted perception of herself, being afflicted with a hatred of herself. Her pernicious eating disorder has resulted in cara spending prolonged periods in rehab in clinics that specialise in treating eating disorders. Despite her malnourished skeletal frame she is a radiant beauty. Behind all the sadness the self loathing the depression is a otherworldly ethereal beautiful women. She has eyes of piercing beauty that gaze deep into the depths of your soul without aversion or artifice. He develops over the duration of a farewell months a profound deep interconnection with cara. It’s a friendships based upon mutual shared experiences of emotional torment.

His association with this angelic celestial beauty is a enormous beneficial friendship that flourished in a short time period into a beautiful platonic kinship. He seriously considers leaving corrina for cara. Despite caras glaring imperfections and flaws she is a wondrous beauty who appreciates understands his internal suffering. Cara inside this insular depression centre community demonstrates the depths of her precocious artistic talent. She is a proficient painter of impressionist art. By painting this impressionist canvasses she is able to elucidate her inner battle with depression and anorexia. Her other talent was her exquisite playing of the cello. Playing the elegant cello concerto to him in this depression centre which has access to a multitude of musical instruments. She is able to convey to my alter ego her vulnerability her torment her beauty her love for him though the gorgeous meditative cello concerto.

In the fantasy realm i vicariously exist in, cara suddenly one day declares her love her infatuation for him. She is immensely attracted to his physically apperception and his alluring charismatic personality. There’s a moment in rehab where she confronts him unleashes her feelings for him. This is a tender moment of vulnerability and sensitivity where he tells her that he cant leave corrina for her. That he desires he needs her warmth her friendship to prevent him from descending into the valley of desolation. Their love remains a platonic one my alter ego does love her passionately and finds her attractive but his love his commitment to corrina is unbreakable. He could never start a affair even with a beauty a living tinker bell cara. He needs badly corrinas strength her kindness to keep him from falling into the abyss of mental illness. Corrina was the rock that prevented him form slipping into the mire of depression. She dragged him kicking and screaming into therapy into rehab. She hugged him when he bled tears of desolation she made him feel a worthy loved human being he could never forsake her.

After a sustained stay in this depression centre he departs for the outside world as a healed transformed person. He is greeted by corrina who radiates love and beauty. They hug and kiss he feels elevated to a higher plain of consciousness just being in close proximity to her sublime divine presence. These are the connections the poignant enduring friendships i ached for, intimate relationships that are impossible to obtain. Being hugged by a friend sharing a kiss with a lover having even a modicum of human contact will only be realised in my inner fantasy world.

After vacating the depression which was a salutary experience he was revitalised fully rehabilitated from his protracted bout of grievous depression. He was released into society into a terrifying exciting ocean of possibilities. He was embraced by the loving bosom of corrinas love he was reintegrated into the salubrious environment of his closest tribe of friends. He was showered with love cherished as a person made to feel like a human being that had value.

After months apart from each other the amorous couple reconnect emotionally and physically. Corrina with her feminine allure with her seductive charismatic personality reminded him of the beauty of being alive of being in love. Also he was reconciled with his vivacious circle of bohemian companions. The wonder to be reconnected with this vibrant group of young artists, musicians poets that provide him with a lush fertile social milieu for his artistic creativity. A environment where he was free to divulge his inner demons and he wasn’t mocked derided for his struggle with a crippling mental illness. A beguiling environment I always dreamed of existing in. A place surrounded by artists intellectuals dedicating there lives to their creative passions. People who have untethered themselves from the slavery of the rat race. A social climate in which i am free to be myself free from the chains of shame and emotional repression.

At this point in my alter egos life he is in his early twenties, still toiling to break through and achieve the validation of artistic success. He struggles to maintain a semblance of sanity trying by continuing his therapy and taking antidepressant medication to hold back the black wolf of suicidal thoughts. Upon leaving the depression centre he nurtures preserves his platonic kinship with cara. Their friendship helps cara recuperate form the doldrums of depression she endured when they first were acquainted. With being intimately associated with my alter ego cara cultivates a more salutary relationship with her body image with food. The relationship is platonic despite caras infatuation with him and the deep emotional attraction they feel for each other. Cara by socialising with him outside the cloister of the depression centre is inaugurated into his intimate conglomerate of charismatic young artists. Corrina my love my venus in human form embraces cara as a friends as a equal, showering cara with abundant warmth. Recognising this fragile anorexic special connection with him and why he needed and still needs this benevolent friendship

In this time he is reinvigorated to write poetry to write new songs with his undiscovered band. He is reborn after the trauma of the near fatal experience with a critical bout of depression. He has a new lust for creativity he performs his written lyrical writings regularly in the poetry clubs. Performing these original pieces of verse with fresh vigour exuding a ebullient extroverted energy with every uninhabited performance. He senses the genesis of something exceptional after the turmoil of his adolescent depression. He believes him and his bands breakthrough into musical immortality is imminent. Still they are a collection of starving unsuccessful artists trying to survive trying diligently to fulfil their stratospheric musical ambitions.

At the same time his relationship with his luscious lover corrina flourished into a pure intense passion that will never fade never dim with the ravages of time. They traverse around the world in exotic exciting excursions that broaden their depth of knowledge that illuminate their understanding of humanity. He partakes in the type of transformational foreign adventures i have fantasised about but due to the social limitations of my disorder I’m hindered denied from experiencing. Travel adventures in Europe into the Far East travelling as backpacking freewheeling bohemian nomads being imbued with the wonders of the naturals world of different exotic cultures. These enterprises abroad enabled him to broaden his creative palette, to expand his collection of experiences giving him a more enlightened understanding of humanity of the human condition. These life affirming intoxicating excursions involved his charismatic tribe of free spirited eccentric friends. In my fantasy world my alter ego traverses to these romantic picturesque awe inspiring vistas that illuminate his bipolar imagination.

His ebullient mixture of idiosyncratic characters live liberated from the mental slavery of a 9 till 5 menial vocation. They broke free from a prescriptive regimented routine to life a pure nirvana adult existence. He and his effervescent Irish cohorts are free form the moil the dirge of soul destroying employment to expand their collective consciousnesses. They glimpse visual stunning landscapes whilst broaden their perception of reality of the meaning of life with consciousness expanding psychedelic drugs. This is the exhilarating perfect existence that i had envisioned for myself in my idealistic introverted teenage years before the schizoid personality disorder shattered my illusions for the future. I can only have visit these far flung exotic locations in my vast elaborate inner fantasy world.

There’s a significant dark event in his life. A tragedy that befalls him a cataclysmic event which irrevocably changes him. A event that permanently scars his soul with a wound that he’ll never fully recover from. The beautiful fragile person cara that he cultivated a intimate connection with who enabled him to recover from a critical bout of suicidal depression suffers a tragic self inflicted accident.

The beautiful friendship that was fostered in the salutary depression centre continued to flourish outside of the shelter of the rehab clinic. Cara religiously devoted herself to playing the cello. Expanding her repertoire of cello concertos to become a more adept and dexterous cellist. She appeared to be improving in her fragile mental state putting on weight going regularly to therapy sessions taking prescription medications which mitigated her illness. She began to attend musical college where she was studying to become a virtuoso with the cello.

Then one day my alter ego was hit with a tsunami of despair. He received a terrifying phone call from Cara’s mother she said that in a erratic moment of desperation had taken her life. Cara had taken a nihilistic decision to end the pain to end the interminable emotional torture of being anorexic. She hanged herself ending the excruciating pain ending the misery of being so tortured on the inside. As this appalling news gradually hit him as the weight of losing a close friend forever he fell to his knees. He sunk on the floor in a moment of inconsolable pain. Rivers of despair streamed down his pale face. He fell rapidly into a gloomy haze of depression and uncontrollable unrelenting agony.

After learning of this harrowing news he got up from the floor where he laid prostrate and got inside his bed. He was in fetal position hoping for some relief some abatement in the blackness he felt in the depths of his soul. He searched frantically for another person to comfort him to share his unbearable grief. He found corrina this goddess of infinite warmth and humanity. She hugged him as he delineated the grievous news of the tragic suicide of cara. Corrina who had grown to feel a feminine kinship with cara reciprocated his tears with waterfall of emotional despair emanating down her perfect porcelain face. They hugged kissed shared passionate intimate embraces of affection on this grave day of wretched sadness.

It’s weird to have moments such as these that I constantly revisit in my intricate inner fantasy universe. To fantasise romanticise about life altering tragedies is indicative of my melancholic imagination. In my real life i have never experienced suicide never felt that acid sadness. Never felt such a harrowing ordeal of losing a person i shared a cosmic connection with. In reality i never feel that level of pain that grief. I walk around in prolonged stress of emotional numbness appearing like a lifeless listless zombie to other people. Feeling nothing for anybody not being incapable of forming meaningful relationships. I fantasise about experiencing moments of abject emotional desolation. I fantasise also about encountering moments of pure ecstatic happiness having these experiencing that are so vital so beautiful but unimaginable with my detached isolated maladjusted personality.

My alter ego descends deeper into a emotional abyss as the grief hits him harder with every incremental minute that passes. In the midst of this desolation corrina embraces him hugs him they share together as a couple this overwhelming loss. They listen to seminal classical music mainly listening to meditative cello compositions. In remembrance of cara’s virtuosity with the cello especially the cello concerto of Elgar. Which they listen to on repeat for hours with tears pouring down their broken dejected faces.

Days of mourning followed with him submerging into a critical depression. He refused to even visit the decaying body of cara, the pain of glimpsing her fragile ravaged body would be too much for him to deal with in his brittle mental state. Instead he started to descend into a state of paralysing shock exhibiting the preliminary symptoms of ptsd. Rather than healthily mourning for cara he represses he numbs himself to the broken shards of glass lurking in his subconscious. He withdraws from society pushes those who love who cherish him away. The depression the darkness takes hold of him the cancer returns as he detaches himself from the warm bosom of corrinas love. He withdraws removes himself rom his close collection of eccentric friends taking more drastic self destructive actions to numb the pain. He ceases taking his vital anti depressant mediation which is imperative in preventing severe cases of depression.

In the midst of this tsunami of sadness came the dreadful inevitable funeral of his beloved friend cara. A friend he shared a deep spiritual kinship with a women he contemplated engaging in a sexual relationship with. He loved her as a platonic soulmate he loved her forever cara would be forever in his thoughts. She had made a indelible impression in the brief time they were acquainted with each other.

At the funeral he was emotional numb with his face ashen like a ghost. All of the friends, relatives, fellow eating disorder sufferers were adorned in traditional black attire. My fantasy character was asked by caras mother to write a poem. This was the request of cara on her forlorn succinct suicide note he obliged wanting to obey caras ardent funeral demand. The funeral service commenced my alter ego sat in a robotic almost catatonic state unable to process or express this level of grief.

The decisive time had arrived when he was required to deliver a poetic oration. A poem he planned to elucidate his thoughts on cara on depression on the enormous beneficial impact this beauty angel had on him. He illustrated with lyrical eloquence the hollow of sadness he was feeling from caras untimely demise. For a fleeting instant he became emotional allowing himself to articulate his private agony of losing cara. Then he sat down eyes drenched in tears he sank into a distant isolated place removing himself from society. The service carried on the moving piece of classical music was thunderously played inside this Catholic Church. Caras favourite piece Elgar cello concerto boomed out of the rudimentary church speakers the sound was deafening. The soaring melancholic playing of the cello the sadness enhanced with every note every sublime playing of the cello. It was agony and ecstasy rolled into a emotionally exhilarating 7 minute piece. Still he retained his stoic exterior his robotic shellshocked face despite all the inner suffering he was enduring.

That poignant piece of musical genius by Elgar was tattooed onto his damaged consciousness. It would forever be a remembrance of caras incandescent beauty a brutal reminder of the tragedy of her fleeting life. Hearing that haunting playing of the cello was a devastating memory jolt of the waste of her prodigious musical talent by suffering under a pernicious pathological mental illness.

The funeral concluded the mourning, grieving continued long after the torturous funereal service. None of his thoughts of suicide seemed to subside for weeks after her sudden shocking death. Time didn’t mitigate the sadness rather these negative feelings were intensified as he had to cope with losing on of his closest dearest friends. In the days that followed he prolonged his ptsd depressed state in the wake of caras death. Rather than seeking professional help or taking antidepressant medication or embracing the beneficial salutary glow of friendship he withdraw from life from humanity.

The death and subsequent funeral of a confidant resulted in several months of a critical mental breakdown. He ceased consuming vital life preserving pharmaceutical medication that would help to alleviate to nullify dark suicidal predilections. He discontinued his psychotherapy sessions because of the unbearable pain was too much to divulge to a qualified professional. Finally he took the drastic detrimental decision to sever his enormously enriching loving relationship with corrina. He retreated away from the incandescence of love regressing far away from the warmth of corrina into the dark forest of isolation. He knew in the vaults of his mind he was descending into a shadowy desolate barren emotional inner landscape. By rejecting the love of his enchanting Irish goddess he posited in his damaged mentally ill mind that he was protecting corrina and himself from the hurt she would endure by being so intimately associated with him.

After callously breaking up from corrina he relocated to cillians flat. Corrina was inconsolable with anxiety over his sudden decline in his mental faculties and over losing her soulmate. She begged him to seek help to not back apart from her. In her luminous character she attempted passionately to persuade him to preserve this passionate love connection. He was to stubborn to resolute in his thinking to reverse his destructive actions. He believed he needed to exile himself form friendships form those who loved him.

Weeks went by he resided at cillian cosy 1 bedroomed flat where he slept on a large sofa. He became increasingly withdrawn uncommunicative in his demeanour . He put on a stoic aloof exterior persona that he postulated would protect he him from a cold icy indifferent world. By repressing the negativity allowing himself to deny to numb these painful haunting memories of caras death the grief calcified into a protracted state of pernicious life threatening depression.

Instead of consuming soft harmless narcotics like cannabis or alcohol or taking mood stabilising antidepressants that regulated his maniac depression. He started to procure and take powerful dangerous drugs which were having a deleterious effect on his physical and mental health. Disappearing for days taking abundant amounts of crack cocaine getting high on speed allowing his body to feel some elation in a ocean of despair. He had effectively given up on life gradually lost the will the lust to live and subsequently was taking these self destructive masochistic choices. By this time he was close to suicide was desperately searching for a reason to exist to sustain his tenuous fragile life.

He spent days at a time ensconced in the local crack house in the deprived area of Dublin. A crack house which was populated with heroin addicts junkies voraciously nihilistically digesting opiates and methamphetamines. This house of junkies was inhabited by the economic underclass those who were marginalised forgotten by society. The occupiers of this illegal crack house were lost they were physically broken people many were afflicted with untreated mental illnesses. Here was my alter ego languishing in this island of human ghosts. He was inoculating his noxious depression with potent hard core drugs that allowed him to dull the painful haunting memories of cara of the love he shared with corrina.

He would drift between the crack house the abyss for broken damned souls and cillians flat. He was increasingly unresponsive a withdrawn a virtual ghost never venturing outside to the pubs and clubs where his bohemian friends frequented. He incessantly thought about death the aura of death permeated his consciousness as his social interaction outside of cillian and a few junkies became increasingly limited. This once effervescent gregarious charismatic young man had been reduced to this shell of a man slowly dying letting all his glowing lights inside of him become extinguished by the darkness.

Cillian grew progressively concerned with his rapidly detracting mental condition. He pleaded vehemently for his best friend to seek help to stop voraciously taking these powerful illicit substances and recommence taking his antidepressant medication. Cillian implored him that he urgently required professional help of a therapist telling my alter ego that he loved him immensely. Everyday cillian reminded him of his fact hugging him imbuing him with his platonic homoerotic affection. Cillian at this juncture was gravely concerned that his best friends would commit suicide. He was seriously contemplating having him sectioned or voluntarily placed in a mental institute that would treat his severe depressed state.

Cillian would meet up with his circle of eccentric Irish companions and discuss my characters drastic mental decline. He pleaded and implored them to consider having my alter ego sectioned having him legally committed into a psychiatric institute because he believed he was a danger to himself. He petitioned his closest acquaintances to supervise to care for his dejected English friend making certain he wouldn’t kill himself in this dark sustained period of critical depression.

When my alter ego had a mental breakdown in the darkness he was protected he was sheltered from the fire and rain of his own damaged mental state with the salutary glow of friendship. Cillian in the heights of his disquietude over his band mates mental state begged corrina to speak to her exlover. He was cognisant that he still loved corrina that her warm ebullient personality would offer him a chance at salvation a slither of hope from the emotional abyss he was floundering in. Corrina acquiesced to cillian insistent plea to reconnect with her estranged ex.

In the weeks months since they last me when my imagined version of me had taken a sudden decision to tear asunder this beneficial romance. In that time the ethereal sensuous redhead had plundered into a states of anxiety and depression. The abrupt dissolution of their glorious love affair had plunged her into a torturous period of sadness and grief at the loss of her love. She felt perpetual anguish at the love of her life precipitous decline in his mental state. I imagine that corrina entire world is negatively affected that she is rendered a emotional wreck by the sudden separation from her English lover and his mental breakdown following caras successful suicide attempt. The breakup had a deleterious effect on her mental health as she suffered from insomnia and anxiety over her lovers descent into becoming severely mental ill. Racked with guilt with sadness over the desperate situation she yearns to see him once again to embrace him to be his salvation his redemption from his private hollow of despair.

It’s with tremendous apprehension she consents to cillians vehement requests that she finally reconnect with her mentally ill lover. She would attempt to use her feminine womanly charms to lure his from the jaws of oblivion. She hoped to compel his to seek the help of a therapist to persuade him life was worth living. The meeting occurs corrina knows in her soul its a last desperate audacious attempt to salvage the love of her life from his nightmare ordeal.

Corrina for this rendezvous wears a alluring red coat her entire attire is intended to evoke vivid memories of love. She is audaciously attempting to charm to persuade him to reverse his destructive nihilistic behaviour. With her alluring voluptuous beautiful presence she wants to seduce him to make him fall in love again with this sensuous Irish goddess once more. When she is adorned in her crimson attire she is a exemplary image of warmth and beauty striving to bring him back into the world assiduously trying to avert another tragic early suicide.

My alter ego in his emotional purgatory still holds deep feeling towards corrina. The love hasn’t diminished she is sill in his mind this ethereal iridescent nymph sent form heaven to transform to save this flawed tortured young man. He though is drowning he has severed his bond with corrina in a attempt to safeguard her from the pain of being intimately associated with him. He is convinced in his damaged psyche that he’s on a dark journey towards eradicating himself from the world or he’s going to exist surviving in protracted states of psychological torture. He’s believes he is saving her from the hurt the suffering she will have to weather being bonded intimately with this tortured young artist.

In this rendezvous occurring in cillians modest apartment corrina knocks on the door. My alternative version of me reluctantly and lethargically answers the door. Agreeing to let his former lover inside his current living quarters. Just seeing corrinas beautiful porcelain flawless visage is a painful experience. Corrina represents love and sanguine feeling for the future she is the light that illuminates and enlightens his entire sentient being. Therefore meeting her is a final grasp of a slowly fading dream of a happiness. He’s lost in the abyss in the valley of despair unable to perceive of a pathway out of his forlorn mental state.

When corrina enters the apartment he is high on a variety of dangerous substances. His mental state is fragile and is precariously close to the edge of oblivion. He opens up the door with his sad empty eyes transmitting a numb vacant expression in the windows of his soul. She embraces him with a passionate vivacious hug that was indicative of her boundless unconditional love for him. Her demeanour and aura is the polar opposite to his languid emotional vacant disposition. The initial conversation is awkward corrina the loquacious extroverted iridescent beauty conducting the majority of the talking in her characteristic effusive style. He shows no discernible emotion retains his stoic countenance. He is gone has removed himself from the world of people and is seriously contemplating ending his life.

Corrinas lustrous otherworldly beauty cant salvage him from the psychological nightmare he’s trapped inside. Her kind words of love wont salvage him form his doomed drowning ship. This reunion serves as a futile effort corrina diligently attempted to redeem him form the ruinous direction he was heading towards. She tenaciously tried to persuade him to visit a therapist to recommence consuming his diet of antidepressant medications. All these efforts were to no avail as he obstinately refused rejected her vehement requests pushing away corrina, knowing he needed to extricate her form his life to alleviate her of any future emotional torment. The abrupt rendezvous ended the 2 young souls kissing each other on their respective cheeks. He visually articulated to her that he still passionately and profoundly loved her. Through a simply gesture of affection he conveyed his love his devotion to her. He articulated to her candidly that he ended the romance to protect her form the inevitable hurt from being physically intimate with a manic depressive with suicidal predilections.

As the final interaction ended after my characters kind impassioned display of unequivocal love for her she sheds a profusion of tears that poured down her ghost like face like a waterfall. She was cognisant with gut wrenching anguish that despite her charms her best efforts she couldn’t convince him to get help to retiring to the wam bosom of her effusive love. He was resolute in his stubborn tortured mind to end his life expeditiously.He looked on with despair as he watches this ravishingly angelic beauty depart from his life. He knows now in the depths of his soul he’ll never see, speak, feel, kiss her sublime face again. After that he sat down falling on the sofa and starts to dry floods of tears at this devastating realisation.

He has come to the edge of a precipice in his damaged psyche. Ascertaining that the intensity of the pain is unbearable to continue subsisting. Now he is resolute in his mind to take the nihilistic decision to commit suicide. By now he’s not a functional young adult but merely a mentally ill emotional crippled tortured soul ravaged by drug addiction and haunted by memories of caras suicide. He is fairly cognisant of the reality that’s he cant survive function existing anymore in this universe.

Now he begins to meticulously plan his untimely demise. Feeling there’s no light no reason no purpose in continuing to exist in a inhospitable world. Planning rigorously the manner of the suicide deciding whether or not he will leave a courteous note. A note which would elucidate the reasons for his death. A note illustrating the darkness in his mind. The suicide note would be a final piece of artistic expression musing on his inner demons. A powerful piece of verse paying homage to the beautiful beings in dublin that imbued his tragic finite life with transitory moments of elation. Writing this elongated piece of poetic verse a exquisite eloquent elegy from his unfulfilled tortured mind. In this final artistic composition he would express his deep infinite love for corrina describing how she transformed him and brought colour into his bleak melancholic life. He would conclude this despairing poetic lamentation describing succinctly his final thoughts on himself on the lovers and friends who we fraternised with. He writes this with bloodshot eyes haunted by depression and harrowing memories of cara. A gaunt body with a face devoid of colour wanting to end it. A body and soul ravaged by mental illness and pernicious hard core drugs. The poetic note is concluded as he prepares the lethal concoction of chemicals that will hopefully render his body lifeless.

In this fantasy universe he decides to consume a abundance of sleeping pills and a lethal dosage of absinthe, a toxic cocktail that would surely poison his fragile body. He acquired the deadly amount of sleeping pills with ease from the pharmacy and the dangerous absinthe from the local liquor store. He surreptitiously planned his suicide telling nobody his plans for self annihilation. He remained locked inside isolation hidden away from the world. Cillian invites him out for an evening of drinking and sanguine conversation. He naturally declined in a terse listless manner. Then as cillian vacates his humble apartment he glimpses his beautiful face for perhaps the last time. Hs is cognisant of the mortifying realisation once agin his bloody opiate laced eyes well up with tears of abject sadness. His ashen emaciated body makes the final plans before he expunged his sentient body form the world indefinitely.

Spending his final hours listening to joy division listening to the now haunted Elgar cello concerto with his body being ravaged with excruciating pain. Whilst the moving poignant music is reverberating the small humble apartment he is slowly poisoning his frail body with copious deadly volume of sleeping pils and shots of absinthe a poisonous cocktail. As the music and noxious chemicals swirl around his defective body he looks outside at the picturesque Dublin night time panorama. The final time he will view the iridescent luminous city lights. The final occasion he will glimpse this vivacious city filled with gregarious people brimming with a lust for life.

The dangerous concoction of sleeping pills and potent alcohol were taking a pernicious effect on him as he feels himself drifting into unconsciousness. This will be the final time he will be a fully cognisant human being instead of a ghost a fading memory. His is close to being terminated form the earth. Their is sadness their is desolation of the tortured soul lost in the hollows of his mind. Their’s no regret just a strange kind of relief that he will soon be a deceased being a mere statistic.

In this elaborate universe I’ve created in my head my alter ego has the moxie to commit daring acts even if these acts are self destructive such as attempting suicide. He lives on the edge executing these audacious acts that i have always dreamed of having the gumption to execute. Even somethings as nihilistic as suicide I fantasise about perpetually. Fantasising abut carrying out a smorgasbord of methods of suicide. Regarding suicide as a glorious profound act in a otherwise inconsequential vacuous nothing existence.

In my perfect elaborate private fantasy universe i have created a character who executes these bodacious destructive actions i am too timorous to attempt. In his imagined world he successfully consumes a deadly concoction of prescription drugs and powerful intoxicants which he firmly believes will end his short tragic life.

However on this his short serious attempt at a nihilistic suicide attempt he is unsuccessful. His failure at rendering his body devoid of life is a result of a fortuitous set of events. Cillian out of sheer compassion for his best friends delicate mental condition arrives at his home early from a night of convivial social intercourse and exorbitant consumption of alcoholic libations. He rang my alter egos mobile phone on numerous occasions throughout this night. He became increasingly anxious as their was no reply no indication his best friend was still a conscious breathing human being. Cillian was the figure who was caring for him over the previous several months in which he had a nervous breakdown after caras suicide and funeral. He consistently vociferously expressed his disquietude to his clique of student friends. That’s why in a emphatic moment of panic he rushed home to his cosy apartment he was the one person he was fully cognisant of how close my alter ego was to killing himself.

As he entered his apartment suddenly his countenance became ghostly as he was appalled at the horrifying sight of his best friend. He saw him slumped unconscious on the floor with a empty bottle of sleeping pills and a half finished bottle of absinthe. On the coffee table there was a note from my alter ego in which he elucidated his reasons why he would commit such a drastic injurious action. Cillian scanned frantically this eloquent piece of suicidal verse with horror as he became fully aware of the calamitous situation. That his best friend his artistic soul mate had committed suicide. Tears and panic came across his youthful pallid Irish face. His body was frozen with dread with shock not knowing how to handle this potentially nightmarish emergency. He with dread inspected his friends body there was no pulse the body was still warm. His unconscious body maybe would never again reagin consciousness.

Cillian hysterically failed 999 contacted the local emergency service as he explained the dire situation. He described in ample detail that his best friend his flat mate had attempted to kill himself and his body was in a critical life threatening state. Whilst he waited interminably for the arrival of essential emergency support, he performed rudimentary cpr on his comatose body. As the purgatory of waiting for the ambulance to arrive my characters body was in a precarious state hanging on a thin wire between life and oblivion.

In this purgatory when cillian was impatiently waiting for the ambulance to reach it’s destination he felt the initial shock leave his body. His body now was racked with despair with anger with sadness. Streams of emotions flowed profusely down is face he could no longer suppress his emotions. He pleaded to god as he got down on his knees and prayed to a omniscient deity to not let this beautiful soul die in such a tragic untimely manner. He was angry with himself with his best friend with the universe for allowing these tragic confluence of circumstances to take place.

Then finally the winged angels arrived the emergency service came to take my alter ego to the nearest hospital to perform critical medical procedures on his dying body. Cillian came in the ambulance refusing to be separated from his best friends. Explaining to the ambulance staff effusively his desire for this angelic creature to remain alive and a fully functioning unimpaired adult.

The ambulance expeditiously arrived at the hospital the hospital staff frantically rushed his frail body to perform critical life saving treatment on his body. At his juncture cillian was situated in the waiting area of the hospital. In a agitated panic stricken state he informed all of his social circle closest friends the dire series of events that transpired on this potentially fateful night. Firstly though he contacted corrina and calmly succinctly informed her of the disastrous circumstances of the night. He holding back the tears attempting to remain stoic and dignified in the face of the potentially catastrophic suicide of her former lover. Corrina was overcome with despair at the appalling reality that the love of her life had such a dire nihilistic action wanting to end his finite time on earth. She had been in a permanent state of disquietude since her ex lover had in a detrimental self destructive act severed their passionate relationship. Now on this forlorn night she received the traumatising news which was the manifestation of her darkest fears. The horror this eccentric beautiful tortured soul who had transformed her irrevocably for the better wanted to die that the pain of being of alive was too onerous to continue existing.

She in a state of absolute dismay and abject inner turmoil rushed to the hospital. Arriving with a her intimate gang of cohorts informing those who resided in her multi roomed apartment of the devastating news of her estranged lover suicide attempt. They like her were blinded with sorrow and shock over his self destructive selfish decision to attempt suicide. Just like corrina and cillian had witnessed his increasingly introverted antisocial neglectful behaviour and his behaviour was the product of severe psychological problems. In the middle of this gloomy Dublin night corrina gathered a assortment of concerned comrades to wait patiently at the local hospital whilst my characters life hang precariously in the balance.

The scene at the hospital waiting area was a forlorn one with young Irish people hoping desperately that the ordeal would be over. Many tears flowed from many pale checks as the shock faded into a despairing acceptance that this might be another case of a prodigiously talented artist having a tragically abridged life. It was a melancholic atmosphere inside the hospital waiting room in which there was a palatable tension. All the colour all the vitality had evaporated from these young Irish individuals as they were filled with a sense of dread at the nightmarish prospect of witnessing another young soul dying so prematurely. There was sparse conversation with the hospital guests rendered inarticulate by the abysmal catastrophic scene in this dreary hospital. Corrinas eyes were bloodshot from the excessive volume of tears that emanated from her sad haunted eyes. Cillian and the males colleagues were frozen in a canonic paralysed state unable to lucidly articulate their feelings.

Whilst in the hospital room doctors and nurses were endeavouring valiantly to restore him from back from the edge of oblivion. The vast quantity of sleeping pills and strong alcoholic spirits he had consumed meant that he urgently needed his stomach to be pumped. This medical procedure was imperative to ensure he remained alive the deadly quantity of chemicals needed to be extricated from his body. This operation had to happen before the combination of alcohol and sleeping pills permanently damaged his vital organs and nervous system. Fortunately though he was admitted to the hospital and given important life saving medical treatment within a sufficient time period to avert successful suicide attempt. The heroic efforts of the hospital staff enabled him to remain a living breathing human being. The hospital staff thwarted the potent combination of drugs from poisoning his body by inducing him to vomit out the poisonous drugs.

After the ordeal which he miraculously survived he remains in a fragile condition his body was thorough undamaged by his failed suicide attempt. However his mental state was still in a fragile place. As the various people who patiently for some news of his precarious physical condition were informed of the positive news. There was a euphoric jubilant response from his friends at the news was delivered he had a narrow escape from death. Corrina hugged cillian intensely as they shed tears of absolute relief that this beautiful precious soul was alive. There was a ebullient elation from all of the visitors at this magnificent news.

The hospital receptionist informed this assortment of eccentric characters that there friend remained in a stable condition. Informing them to vacate the hospital and return in the morning to visit this mentally vulnerable young man. Corrina pleaded and begged the staff to permit her to spend the night in the hospital. She wanted to embrace her lover to convey her compassion for him to let him be cognisant of how profoundly she loves him. She had to though obey the strict hospital rules and leave the hospital premises until the following morning.

The following morning came and the caravan of eclectic characters arrived to remind this tortured soul of his indispensable intrinsic value to their lives. He felt the ameliorating glow if humanity heal his damaged soul. Mainly though he felt the luminescent feminine glow of corrrina who embraced him hugging him kissing his pallid face. There was no malice no hate in her tender forgiving heart only sadness that her love had contemplated and executed such a masochistic self destructive act. She forgave him for erratically ending their relationship and understood his detrimental actions and that she had to exert greater fortitude in the future when he experienced these protracted bouts of servers suicidal depression.

Then the cavalcade of various bohemian friends came by to bestow him with their kindness and warmth. All of these gifts of friendship he was bequeathed in the aftermath of his unsuccessful attempt to die lifted his spirit from a place of abject desolation to a rejuvenated feeling. The hugs the kisses the excess of such logical beneficial human contact all which i am deprived of in my real life. Hence why I fantasise about being lavished with love from friends in this idealised imagined inner landscape.

After the failed suicide attempt the Dublin hospital requested he remain as a patient whilst they monitored his recovery. It’s standard practise in a Irish hospital to assess a psychologically fragile patient who has committed a unsuccessful suicide attempt to complete a diagnostic analysis from a professional psychiatrist before discharging the patient from the hospital. In this scenario his therapist who he infrequently visited for therapy gave him a comprehensive psychological assessment. The therapist assessed his vulnerable mental condition deciding on whether he was well enough to re-enter mainstream society. His psychologist asked him a rigorous series of questions pertaining to why he attempted to kill himself why he discontinued his therapy’s sessions. Why he ceased taking the vital antidepressant medication which would surely have averted a suicidal episode. It was a highly stressful but necessary experience that aided in his continued rehabilitation from this traumatic scaring experience.

His therapist came to a conclusion on his patients mental state and what was the appropriate action to prevent any future suicide attempts. He ascertained that my alter ego was sufficiently mentally stable to be discharged from the hospital. That he was no longer a danger to himself or anybody else. However there were several stipulations that he had to agree to. Firstly my alter ego had to attend a variety of group therapy sessions on bipolar expression on coping with loss. Also he had to attend regular therapy sessions and be required to consume the critical life saving anti depressant medication. He had to strictly abide to these set of conditions for a couple of months whilst he was still recuperating form a severe emotional scaring mental breakdown.

He reluctantly acquiesced to these onerous provisos if he failed to abide to any of these conditions his therapist had the authority to force him to enter a rehabilitation centre where they treated patients with mental illnesses. My characters mental health improved slightly since the near catastrophic mental breakdown. He still suffered from a acute depressed feeling still was like a frightened boy lost in the black forest. Eventually after weeks and months his condition had recuperated to the point he could safely coexist in society. He was persuaded to move back in with corrina to revitalise this intense love connection that helped to mitigate the defects in his personality. He agreed with unbridled enthusiasm to return into the warm bosom of corrinas love. The loving couple once again collaborated in the glorious union of love sharing each other bodies and souls in the cosmic beauty of love.

The weeks that followed since his discharge from the hospital were extremely arduous. He was still recovering from the traumatic ordeal of a near fatal bout of depression. Despite the enormously beneficially ambience of being surrounded by friends and a luscious Irish redhead he still was burdened with the black cancer of long term pathological depression. The uphill struggle of recovery was a onerous task where there was only incremental improvement in his psychological condition. He was forced to be vulnerable to be emotionally naked in front of equally emotionally brittle strangers. No longer could he hide repress deny his suicidal tendencies. The group therapy classes was a emancipating sensation. In his resumption of his psychologically advantages one on one therapy sessions he felt born again as if he had been gifted a second chance at life by a forgiving benevolent deity. Now he had been handed the enlightening experience of surviving a nightmarish ordeal of a complete mental breakdown and suicide attempt. Slowly as the depression and suicidal inclination subsided he felt invigorated as a human being regaining his voracious appetite for writing poetry and music. His extroverted gregarious personality gradually was restored as the a scar tissue of his experience faded away. This charismatic effervescent young mans personality was fully restored out of the shadows the doldrums of a suicidal episode.

Going to therapy interacting with fellow suffers of manic depression and individuals who had endured a recent loss had enabled him to heal the grief and pain. Now he was immensely determined to become a success to achieve true self actualisation by becoming a eminent musician admired by millions of adoring fans.

Many elements enabled his full recovery from his mental illness. Firstly the support network of friends he bestowed him unconditional love despite his destructive detrimental at time infuriating behaviour. The friends who welcomed him back to the community who greeted him at the hospital lavishing a abundance of kindness reminding him of his enormous value. The most significant element that precipitated his recuperation from depression was corrina the ethereal Irish nymph who transformed his life. It was in this critical period of recovery that his angelic being nurtured him out of the valleys of darkness into the glimmering light of eternal love. He was healed through the transformative power of love of corrinas limitless warmth that she transmitted to her English lover.

There was one glorious enriching evening where the couple reignited their amorous passionate connection for each other. Corrina meticulously planned a night where these 2 souls could rekindle the fires of there romance. They had temporarily postponed the resumption of their sex life saving it for a magical evening of excessive consumption of drugs and libidinous satisfaction. They were going camping overnight in a iconic location in Dublin near a lake. A location where on numerous occasions previously they made passionate love and experienced the ecstasy the sublimity of 2 souls lost in the beauty of love of each other in a picturesque vista. A location that was the source of countless positive memories. On this specific evening the couple brought copious volumes of alcohol they brought music, psychedelic drugs to enhance the heavenly night. Corrina and been preparing for this majestic evening for weeks since her lover resurrection form the hollows of his inner despair. Her body was fervently energised with anticipation at the resumption of their carnal relationship. He reciprocated her feelings of heightened electrified anticipation of resuming their physical intimate bond. It had been many months since they had engaged in the beautiful act of sexual intercourse. His body was screaming out for physical gratification he desperately wanted to demonstrate his deep feelings of infatuation and devotion for this voluptuous Irish nymph. She could have discarded him given up on this tortured broken man. However her kind forgiving heart allowed my alter ego back into the orbit of her incandescent love

They came to a iconic venue situated in the laugh Tay. A place they renamed as the Louth Eden due to the sublime joyous memories they created in this picturesque panorama. Lough Eden a gorgeous vista with its lush scenery it became a place where they could retreat from the tumult of the world to this natural paradise. This divine night started early as the two lovers set up their camp near the Dublin lake. Setting up in a locale marooned from human company where they could be intimate without the prying eyes of strangers. They constructed their solitary campsite near to the lake in the early evening hours. As they played blissful classical music which would be the soundtrack for this sublime night of hedonism. They opened up a bottle of wine which was a splendid bottle of white Chardonnay. A perfect complement to the visually breathtaking psychedelic sunset. They combined the aphrodisiac intoxicating bottle of wine with a smorgasbord of culinary treats. It was a sumptuous banquet where these two lovers supplemented their lustful sexual appetites with rapaciously devouring of exquisite culinary provisions.

Then hours later with they gazed at a majestic awe inspiring sunset. They finished the bottle of sumptuous intoxicating wine that enhanced their camping experience. The two youthful lovers sat down on their rudimentary campsite on a traditional picnic blanket in close proximity to the breathtaking lake and heavenly landscape. As the light slowly dimmed in this tranquil setting the couple started to eat voraciously the psilocybin magic mushrooms which had a hallucinogenic side effect. They wanted to experience each other through a consciousness bending powerful psychedelic drug. The psilocybin mushrooms would also act as a potent aphrodisiac eliciting intense sensations of sexual attraction towards each other. As usual with shrooms they had to wait patiently for approximately an hour before the powerful mind altering hallucinogenic visual effects took hold of their sensory apparatus. Corrina wanted the recommencement of their sexual escapades to be a perfect euphoric night to remember. Consuming a combination of sensuous culinary treats with alcoholic libations served as a stimulating appetiser for his luxurious nights of physical and spiritual intimacy.

Finally the visual effects of the shrooms took full effect on their bodies. The drug initially induced a perfection of being high the same feelings of being stoned where slowly you’re perception of reality of time gets blurred by this intoxicating hallucinogen. Eventually the evocative psychedelic visual feast were felt by the young couple. They drifted into more serene meditative states where they laid horizontal viewed the magnificent nighttime skyline and stunning landscape whilst feeling the powerful enlightening sensation of this consciousness altering narcotic.

They were enchanted by the combination of being surrounded with the beauty of nature and a transcendental enrapturing drag taking trip. The paradisiacal ambience of the night the perfect clear skyline the two lovers filled with amorous desires. As they felt a cosmic connection towards each other they slowly became filled with a lustful insatiable sexual appetite. A appetite that was blossomed by the mixture of intoxicants they digested throughout this splendid night. Gradually after many hours of psychedelic tripping they connected physically in a immaculate union of two stoned souls. They made love for the first time in many months under the watchful gaze of the heavenly stars which is in full illumination in the clear unpolluted night sky. The ecstatic blend of drugs and passionate sex combined to take the lovers into elevated blissed out states of pure being. His transformation was complete he was fully out of the mire of suicidal desolation into a euphoric drug infused utopian plain of existence.

As he made exhilarating erotic sex he closed his eyes and was blinded by the kaleidoscopic images that floated throughout his mind. A endless spectacle of iridescent colour flowed seemingly onto the edges of a infinite universe taking himself and his alluring Irish lover to a dreamlike place of emotional ecstasy. All the while the voracious epic love making continued for hours with the background of meditative classical music and a awe inspiring environment. There was a cessation of the insatiable love making as they sat upright still high still inebriated form the mushrooms and copious alcohol they devoured. Corrina convinced him to eat the remainder of the psilocybin shrooms. In order that they could observe a majestic sunrise which would be amplified by the glaring polychromatic visions if the magic mushrooms. Whilst they waited for a resumption of a hallucinogenic trip to take hold they smoked two joints of cannabis to keep the entranced stoned feeling going. Then gradually the concoction of various illicit substances took hold of their senses. Again like before the psychoactive substances altering their perception of reality intensifying their cosmic connection. They conversed with ease with effusive loquacious streams of consciousness flowing from their tongues. They laughed listened rapturously to every word every syllable that they spoke to each other. With the rich tapestry of highfalutin conversation heightened the heavenly passionate feeling and excessive intake of mind ending drugs facilitated these intimate profound conversations.

Slowly and patiently whilst still high on psychoactive drugs they watched the radiant incandescent sun appear in this vibrant setting. Their minds stoned with the intoxicating brew of love. In the early morning hours still high still deep in a trance like state being affected by the bounty of psychedelic drugs they consumed throughout the night. This night had been a immaculate way of resuming the beauty of their physical union. They reconnected as lovers as soul mates in a night under a the constellations of the cosmos of hedonistic amorous ecstasy.

The time had arrived when they surely had to depart from loch Eden. This Irish loch the luscious blindly beautiful rich landscape in the first hours of daylight beauty was only surpassed by the ethereal beauty of corrina. With her long flowing auburn hair and her voluptuous alluring figure that shimmered in the strange ambience of the early morning loch Eden. They departedposthaste and made this short journey home away from the garden of Eden away from all the wonder they shared on this special night.

Corrina has planned a tiny diversion in their expeditious traversal to their Dublin apartment. She had arranged in her sly little mind without informing her lover to visit the grave of cara. Believing it would be a chance finally for both of them particularly her english lover to mourn for a cara. My alter ego had refrained from visiting the solemn gravesite of cara. He found it too emotional onerous to confront the overwhelming grief of her suicide. By paying a visit to this gloomy gravesite of his beloved platonic soulmate cara it would provoke oceans of suppressed emotions to emanate out of his emaciated body.

Corrina stopped abruptly informing her soulmate that she greatly desired to pay her respects to cara. He was shocked by this seemingly capricious decision to see a gravesite to visit a theatre of sadness. Corrina made her carefully orchestrated plan to end the camping trip by paying her respects seem spontaneous. As he acquiesce to her ardent requests to see her grave he became apprehensive at the grim possibility of confronting his unexpressed grief in a public setting. He became upset even at the entrance of the cemetery, displaying a mixture of nervousness and a sadness that permeated his entire body. Slowly they approached the grave of their deceased friend he was struck with outpourings of emotional despair as they get closer to her bleak gravesite. Finally they arrived to the fresh unspoilt grave of cara who had only been buried for a few months. Suddenly all the colour all the vivaciousness of the night faded away in this forlorn melancholic venue.

The couple sat down next to the pallid gravesite. There was fresh flowers, poetry, photographs and many items of tribute that adorned the grave of a precocious young musician who died so tragically young. Her gravesite had become a shrine for those afflicted with eating disorders or young people encumbered with a debilitating mental illness. My alter ego was sitting adjacent to his compassionate Irish lover. There was a deafening silence in the air then he began to sob, tears cascaded down his face. He then plunged his tear drenched face into corrinas loving arms. Embracing her in a therapeutic redemptive moment where he was finally able to heal the emotional wounds of caras sudden suicide. After he profusely cried corrina then slyly brought out from her handbag the poem which he had so eruditely orated at caras funeral service. By now they were both unrestrained in the grief which was displayed on their respective faces. Corrina began to recite his powerful poem as they held each other’s hands both expressing deep sorrow. This brief visit to caras grave was a pivotal moment in his rehabilitation from depression from the deep wounds of losing a intimate important confidant. All these months of pent up sorrow all these months of suicidal depression where he suffered a mental breakdown all the isolation the alienation he endured was exorcised in a poignant visit to a lost precious angels grave. In this moment the grief was extricated from his tortured mind. The tears felt like ecstasy as he unburdened himself from the acid sorrow of caras death. Corrina then completed this sublime piece of verse which would become a homage to caras tragic heart wrenching end.

The fleeting visit to caras grave was over it would be a consequential memory in his development as a adult. Where he shedded the toxicity of her death of his near fatal suicide attempt. He left the cemetery not feeling depressed or beng overwhelmed with grief but feeling almost euphoric after his demonstrative display of mourning for his treasured adored cara. He left with the resurrection of his romance with corrina a almost indestructible level of intimacy. Now he was resolute in his conviction that this mortal goddess was the person he wanted to spend the truest of his life with. Walking out of this melancholic setting into the lights of Dublin. Strolling hand in hand two young charismatic souls who it seemed were fated to be perennial lovers who’s cosmic bond would last for eternity.

This transformative night the expedition to caras grave had been a salient night in his rehabilitation. He felt truly restored regaining the lustre of his old gregarious extroverted self. In the weeks months that followed his failed suicide attempt and reestablishing his love life he reconnected with his circle of friends. In this virtual universe my fantasy character had a enormously beneficial support network of this large group of benevolent companions. In this world there are people who care for him who shower him with empathetic displays of humanity. In this land he was loved admired. He was a pivotal charismatic figure in their exhilarating bohemian existence.

After he had returned to resume his relationship with a crimson haired Irish nymph and was fully restored to his charismatic extroverted self. Now in his early twenties was fully committed to his chosen vocation of a becoming a idolised musician and venerated poet. No longer was he a precocious adolescent now he had fulfil his colossal artistic ambitions and become a eminent musician. He had spent years living in Dublin living as a outsider living a unconventional lifestyle. In these formative years he was religiously devoted in his duel crafts of poetry and musical performance, which gave him a outlet for his interminable emotional torment. Years spent perfecting his craft incrementally improving as a poet as a songwriter. His laborious bouts of depression his protracted battles with severe mental illness would become in time his muse for works of poetic genius. The bipolar depression was at times a detriment in his artistic progress. Now in the iridescent light of being resurrected from the abyss he was disciplined committed to developing into a successful artist. He was enlightened by the traumatic set of ordeals and his rebirth from these emotionally casting events.

This was a significant juncture in his journey towards musical immortality where he either continued to meander on the outskirts never achieving his stratospheric dreams of stardom. Also in this important period corrina had competed her university education and was ready to embark on her exciting illustrious career in investigative journalism. In my inner fantasy world my dream women isn’t a glamorous photogenic supermodel or a charismatic actress rather shes a dedicated lauded journalist. A journalist who crafts award wining documentaries that uncover abuses of power. She becomes a lionised consequential print journalist and documentary film maker. Mother nature has endowed her with all the alluring physical attributes to be a glorious iconic model. Corrina has the photogenic looks the sexual charisma to be a object of adolescent fantasies however she took her intellectual acuity into a profession that was significantly more intellectually stimulating. A vocation that allowed her to venture into new horizons to experience exotic cultures. To bring light to the western world of the suffering of indigenous cultures around the globe. Her documentary filmmaking and investigative journalist writings will make her a infamous figure in her field. It’s a career that places her in perilous life threatening regions of the world. All with the altruistic pursuit of providing revelatory journalism that sheds light on forgotten underrepresented areas of the world.

Her vocation and her partners artistic odyssey take them to divergent pathways in life. Despite that they sustain the intimate union that was forged in their adolescent formative years. They do though due to their individualistic unique jobs experience sustained periods if separation from each other. Whereas corrina makes her preliminary wages in the medium of investigative journalism by working diligently for a local newspaper. My alter ego with his band is still undiscovered working ardently and laboriously to becoming prominent musical figures. The band he performed with are by now a fully formed formidable outfit.

The band since they formed several years ago had rarely performed preferring to practise without a audience. Over several years of assiduous practise they honed their musical virtuosity. In time my alternative version of me would become renowned for his poetic performances with his sublime stream of consciousness poetic style. The beatniks would convene regularly several times a week to improve as a musical collective.

In their embryonic years when my alter ego was asked to be the bands charismatic frontman and co songwriter they had only 3 members. With cillian the supremely gifted lead guitarist also they had a stereotypical idiosyncratic drummer. The drummer was called Daniel O’Connor who had been a intimate friends of my alter ego since he arrived in Dublin many years previously. Daniel was a scruffy unkempt but a adroit percussionist. He often had a ragged hipsters bearded his appearance may have been bedraggled but he was a proficient artist in a myriad of creative fields. A adept painter of kaleidoscopic abstract art he also harboured acting aspirations, appearing sporadically in plays. His dreams of becoming a famous actor remained a illusion never to be fulfilled. His main area of artistic eminence was in music especially as a effusive drummer. Daniel had a parallel education path as closest confidant cillian. Studying at the identical secondary school enrolling and attending a prestigious art college with cillian. A higher education centre was the ideal setting to nurture fervent artistic talent. A milieu in which they were studying alongside fellow artists, poets,and actors. A rich ecosystem that enabled the fertilisation of precious young wannabe artists. Daniel and cillian cemented their commitment to be professional musicians in this fertile environment. They lured my alter ego requesting him to be the pivotal charismatic figure in the band. They admired his obvious lyrical adeptness his natural onstage charisma and willingness to be vulnerable in the realm of performance and in his poetry.

For years they practised played as a threesome just like our musical idols nirvana. However they began to ascertain there was something missing a final component that they required to turn our band into a exemplary musical outfit. They in unison decided they needed a bassist to complement the 2 guitarist and percussionist. In the period after his recovery from the near calamitous mental breakdown they diligently auditioned a prospective bassist. The auditioned a myriad of young enthusiastic bass players of varying abilities. Then came a individual to our unprofessional audition setting who replied to the online social media advertisement. Strolling in was a young 17 year old women called Isabella who exuded self confidence. She was a diminutive 5 foot 2 inches women who was clad in gothic attire. Isabella wore jet black hair and black gothic makeup she played the requested bass instrument with effortless aplomb. It was obvious to the band mates she was the final piece in the jigsaw puzzle that they desperately needed to transform into the next nirvana. Not only was she a accomplished bassist but she had a magnetic effervescent personality. Isabella confided that she was also a adroit player of several musical instruments. She demonstrated her mastery of the piano which was situated in the student apartment where they held these auditions. With youthful ardency she claimed she was a proficient player of the cello. Vociferously demanding that she demonstrated her mastery of the cello on a future occasion. In her self assured extroverted manner she wanted to incorporate classical instruments into this prototypical rock band music. Wanting to bring the cello and viola into a integral part of the beatniks musical performances. To see what glorious music would be created from this fusion of classical and modern musical instruments.

At this point my alter ego and his fellow band mates were certain this strange women was of requisite musical ability to be in our exciting undiscovered musical collective. They told Isabella that they were unanimous in their conviction she should be our permeant bassist. A week later she arrived at the multi roomed student accommodation this time arriving with her precious cello. My alter ego requested to Isabella would she give a recital of Elgar’s cello concerto in the passionate style of Jacqueline du pre. She agreed to his effusive request and gave a immaculate recital playing with intense fervour for 20 minutes. As she performed this seminal piece of cello music my alter ego become increasingly emotional. The performance elicited evocative haunting memories of caras tragic untimely passing. It invoked in him vivid memories of cara playing the cello with youthful fervency. Isabella in may ways reminded him of cara. She resembled cara in her physical appearance in her slender diminutive body however Isabella wasn’t as emotional fragile as cara. She was a strong confident extroverted musician who wasn’t impaired with any noticeable mental illnesses.

The band was fully formed as a dynamic musical foursome. The beatniks become this intimate mystical collective. The 4 bend members abandoned their education pursuits their miscellaneous artistic endeavours in favour of being entirely devoted towards this exciting musical adventure. The tantalising possibility of becoming a successful iconic rock group permeated their bodies with youthful exhilaration. My alter ego during this formative period before they achieved success in his early twenties was a prolific writer of poetry sporadically performing his poetry in Dublin poetry clubs. Writing regularly producing a abundant quantity of exemplary verse. He still considered himself a struggling poet however he became fully committed to being a singer songwriter in a rock band. Now he wrote lyrical compositions that he hoped would be transformed by the miraculous power of musical alchemy into majestic emotive music. All 4 individuals sacrificed everything in the resolute belief that this particular band they were a part of would achieve monumental success.

The beatniks set forth in the world venturing into dark waters going to become a illustrious adored musicians who would transmit beautiful music into the universe. In my fantasy world I envisage my alter ego creation and his musical cohorts struggling for several years to break out of obscurity. Constantly touring writing prolifically composing a abundance of new material in their years of being a unsigned undiscovered impoverished act. When they set forth in their early twenties the beatniks were still learning to master the craft of creating illuminating enchanting music.

In the pre fame formative years they still enjoyed the liberation of this tough profession. Living the dream travelling across Europe across Britain. Enjoying the battle to be signed to be successful to actualise their lofty dreams envisioning being supported by selling millions of albums having millions of adoring fans. In his chapter the band toiled to earn a substantive living. Finding it immensely physically and emotionally vexing to not yet realise their dreams. Their was a tremendous temptation to give up to accept a compromised existence. Earning a comfortable living in a tedious vocation that allowed them a modicum of financial security. The type of compromise I’ve made in the real world whee I’ve lived a prescriptive predictable boring lifestyle as oppose to taking chances in a more spiritually enriching vocation.

In the inner dreamworld my alter ego never relents in his single minded pursuit of musical eminence. Never yields to the temptation of giving up leaving behind the spiritual emancipation the pure joy of being a performing artist untethered from the rat race. In these several years living without success surviving with far fetched illusionary visions of their musical future was hard for the beatniks. All 4 band members had grandiose dreams of creating seminal music that would be listened to for eternity. Despite the endless moil the lack of a record contract they had numerous instances of great pleasure in performing incessantly Britain and Europe. Rivalling in the joys the emotional catharsis of performing original raw material to a love audience. Songs inspired form the pain of living with a mental illness songs that drew from all his sad memories his losses his setbacks. In these laborious years of fighting desperately to be recognised as a superlative rock band the band mates got immense satisfaction from this unconventional bohemian life they had become immersed in. Living a hedonistic life in which they consumed a abundance of mind expanding drugs. In the pre fame period they would spend a vast proportion of their paltry income on illicit substances. Getting high made them feel truly alive giving them the perception of being wild outsiders existing in a pure ecstatic joyous reality.

The bears years lasted a considerable time in the beatniks illustrious history. In these hard times where they endured poverty due to their lack of genuine success my alter ego and his angelic Irish soulmate decided to get married. By this time corrina had established herself as a distinguished respected investigative journalist. She traversed to dangerous regions of the world in order to provide substantive journalism. Whereas my alter ego floundered as a musician corrina found acclaim as a print journalist and as a writer director of award winning documentaries. In their distinctive professions they spent protracted periods separated from each other due to their atypical occupations. Despite the elongated periods apart from each other they maintained a ebullient relationship. The initial passionate effervescent connection had not diminished in the passing of time.

My alter ego had decided to take a momentous life altering decision to ask corrina to marry him in the scared binding commitment of marriage. He meticulously planned his proposal which would be made in a weekend in the magical city of Paris the city of blinding lights. He perceived this would be a idyllic location to make this profoundly romantic gesture. This weekend was intended to be a reconnection after having months away from each other. A forced separation due to his bands relentless touring across Europe and corrinas journalistic excursions that took her to faraway regions of the globe.

They arrived at the city of light in a serene environment in a clement Parsian July. It was a picturesque romantic city the first time the couple would experience the overwhelming beauty of this iconic city of love. They arrived in a modest hotel which was situated in the heart of this exuberant city. A city which was populated with a multitude of various cultures religions and races which helped foster this buoyant multi cultural melting pot. They entered their energetic romantic locale filled with interesting charismatic Parisians. A city where the seductive aroma of love permeated throughout the entire city landscape.

The two lovers came to Paris cafe in the heart of the afternoon where they immersed their souls with the wondrous awe inspiring beauty of the city of blinding lights. Corrina was radiating beauty looking like a lustrous bouquet if flowers. She had decorated her curvaceous body in a vivacious low cut dress with her sensuous lips painted red. Passes by turned their heads at this ravishing ethereal beautiful women who could have easily become a desired supermodel. He relaxing with his luscious Irish partner he had a moment of pure amazement that this beguiling intelligent women is his lover and maybe future wife. The first day Friday was a day for traditional sightseeing as the couple observed the architectural sublimity and artistic delights of Paris. Visiting the art galleries the museums the idolised tourist attractions. Immersing themselves fully in the breathtaking beauty of Paris. After this epic odyssey of experiencing the aesthetic wonders that the city of lights has to offer the amorous couple retired to their modest Parisian accommodation. They then prepared for a night of excess of hedonistic. A night where they were attempting to appreciate fully the Parisian nightlife in which they would enhance the nocturnal adventure with mind bending consciousness expanding substances.

The young lovers departed from their hotel towards the picturesque Parisian nightlife. My alter ego imbued with nervous energy of his planned marriage proposal. Still he disregarded that momentous proposition for a memorable night of music and carnal pleasures. A night I fantasise about perpetually to have that deep telepathic connection with anther person to be able to socialise in a unfamiliar dangerous city. To be a extrovert who immerses himself in other cultures who feels intricately connected to the human race. They had a ebullient night of excessive consumption of alcohol, dancing effusively to seductive rhythmic music. Two charismatic star crossed lovers passionately enjoying the candescent Parisian night. Meeting conversing with fellow young individuals enjoying the alluring nightlife. Throughout this glorious night they fervently danced to mesmerising dance music. Devouring a cornucopia of alcoholic cocktails spirits in a exuberant life affirming night out. The two lovers had shared a divine evening of alcoholic intoxication and emotional bliss with the transformative power of music and shared human experiences. After a epic night of raucous socialising of excessive drinking they retired from the iridescent luminous city lights to their humble temporary accommodation.

The hedonistic activities of the night hadn’t ended. In the intimacy of their secluded hotel they voraciously inhaled psychoactive drugs. This time instead of alcohol they smoked the potent marijuana out of a pipe. A narcotic which would elicit hallucinogenic effects. This beautiful drug also enhanced the experience of sex acting as a powerful aphrodisiac stimulant. After they rapaciously smoked the cannabis plant and were fully feeling its alluring visual effects, they began to prepare for a night of unrestrained passionate sex. Corrina was siting adjacent to her english lover on the hotel bed she transformed into this stoned Irish goddess. Beams of light were radiating from her immaculate porcelain body. The two young souls were erotically charged with sexual stimulation. They were preparing their bodies for copulation removing items of closing expeditiously as they rapidly became too makes bodies. Becoming 2 beautiful vulnerable young bodies who were about to share the paradisiacal act of sexual congress. Under the blissful influence of psychoactive cannabis they engaged in a marathonic ceremony of love making. The sex lasted until the early hours when the sun was arising for the commencement of another sun soaked Parisian day. The loquacious extroverted lovers lay inside their bed until midday in this idyllic scene.

It was now Saturday the day of destiny when he would eloquently propose to corrina. He envisioned a perfect proposal on the port des arts bridge just as the sun was setting with a psychedelic sunset. The proposal would be made following a sumptuous dinning experience at a eminent Parisian restaurant. He had meticulously prepared a itinerary for this romantic evening.

Corrina and my alter ego waited until midday before they awoke from their tranquil slumber on this pivotal day. They had a relaxing uneventful day after last nights hedonistic exertions. Staying inside the hotel room getting high on cannabis luxuriating in each other’s company. As the hours passed he became increasingly apprehensive with nervous energy pulsating throughout his body. Today they opted for a reduced set of activities. On Friday they had thrown themselves got lost in the infinite beauty of Paris. Visiting an array of iconic Paris tourist attractions. Today despite the proposal planned in the evening was a more serene occasion. The evening would be a shared exemplary culinary adventure followed by hopefully another night of debauchery.

In the evening they vacated their room and commenced the nighttime sensual pleasures. After a day of basking in each other’s company in prolonged states of tranquil sedentariness. They departed towards a exquisite french restaurant where they indulged their decadent desires by devouring high quality french cuisine. Complementing this superlative food with lavish quantities of alcoholic libations. Getting slowly intoxicated with divine french wine was serving as a magnificent introduction to the nights romantic events. Corrinas as usual was a figure of pure feminine beauty. Her voluptuous sensuous body was emanating a vision of fiery red. With her red dress red lips fiery red hair a immaculate visual feast on this potentially significant night. Whilst he was internally suffering from anxiety as the moment of proposal drew ever nearer.

The time had arrived when they concluded their sublime dining experience. It was the ideal time to leave from the restaurant and take a casual romantic stroll towards the port des arts bridge. The sun was setting with the light fading away. The twilight was fast approaching bringing the neon iridescent city lights. My alter ego holding hands with his prospective soulmate the Irish goddess. The pivotal moment had come when we would deliver his proposal to corrina on the port des arts bridge with a stunning psychedelic dreamlike sunset as a perfect backdrop for this moving marriage proposition. He had composed a powerful poem a ode to the love he love of his life. He then resisted this love poem on the infamous Paris bridge. He serenaded corrina with this eloquent romantic poem on this momentous night

Ode to Corrina

Before you there was only darkness I was a lost discarded soul
Wandering aimlessly in the desolate wilderness
Lost in isolation lost in spiritual twilight

One day you appeared into my sad life
like a goddess like a incandescent vision of pure light
This prefect utopian vision of feminine beauty
A fantasy a angel showering with unearned affection

I was mystified why you were attracted to me
An angel a sexually charismatic Irish nymph
You wanted me opened up my soul to the wonders of the universe
Exposing me to the heavenly nirvana of love

In your lustrous presence i could be vulnerable completely free
The depression the suicidal thoughts dissipated through your unconditional love
I became healed from the wounds of my past
No longer lost i was welcomed into the bosom of your love

We fell in love together we made passionate love
We connected with sex with art with shared passions
You corrina became my muse
The illuminating ethereal beauty of my life

When i was close to the edge
Consumed with suicidal thoughts
Falling deeper into states of despair
You this angels saved me from certain death

Time and time again you were my redeemer
Saving me from endless isolation
Saving me with your boundless unconditional love
Without your kindness your humanity I’d be another tragic victim of suicide

Now i gaze at you i feel complete
I’m rendered breathless my your infinite incandescent charms
Your crimson hair that flows down your voluptuous body
Your piercing emerald green eyes that sparkle that render me inarticulate with wonder

Corrina your a idealised fantastical vision of physical exquisiteness
You’re my soul mate my cosmic mistress
I’m requesting with all my love my adoration for you
Are you willing to make a sacred commitment by accepting my honourable proposal and take my hand in the hallowed bond of marriage

As he recited this homage to his enchantress he held her hand whilst simultaneously bending his knee in traditional marriage proposal protocol. Throughout his impassioned reading of this poem corrina became increasingly emotional. Tears of joy of elation cascaded down her porcelain face. As he concluded his eloquent poetic monologue corrina with her waterfall eyes embraced him in a passionate kiss. She then responded to his sincere emotional vulnerable marriage proposal with a vehement yes. She was overwhelmed seduced by his heartfelt passionate ode to his Irish Venus. She from the genesis of their amorous relationship was convinced this beguiling young man was her soulmate.

This night in Paris was the perfect occasion the idyllic locale to consent to the sacred union of marriage. After his verbose poetic marriage request and corrinas affirmative consent to become his wife. The two lovers were in a state of rapture they danced they celebrated as prospective life partners do in the city of blinding lights. My alter ego had meticulously secretly planned this romantic night he envisioned the post proposal night if corrina had concurred to his proposal. He had visualised in his mind a night of unconstrained fornication with the aid of drugs with hallucinogenic properties.

He had carried with him to Paris in the event corrina said yes a couple tabs of lsd. Enough acid to give 2 young adults a powerful psychedelic trip. Acid was the ideal drug to celebrate their engagement. Hence they celebrated their engagement by having a consciousness distorting night on the streets of Paris. Surrounded by all the beauty the shimmering lights and alluring romantic sights of Paris they took a transcendental drug induced trip. They subverted their perception of reality whilst traversing across the Parisian nightlife in states of hallucinating rapture. With the exhilarating realised reality of marriage they subjected their bodies and minds to a wondrous heavenly night of youthful hedonism. The colours the visions the sight the beauty the blinding lights the intimacy the sex the ecstasy of being in love. All this was experienced in one celestial night of elation. A paradisiacal combination of sex and the mind blowing side effects of lsd.

In my inner universe many months pass by with the detailed fastidious planning of their wedding. The planning of the wedding completely consumes their lives until the exact wedding day. Corrinas family according with traditional comply to pay the bill for this modest Irish Catholic wedding. Her family were a upper male class family who were employed within academia. Corrina the daughter of university professors. Despite their academic prestigious status they were radical free spirit ex hippies. Who had a liberated enlightened attitude towards sex and displaying your emotions. In contrast to my alter egos family they could never be characterised as being repressed.

In the wedding ceremony and party my alter egos family weren’t invited. In this virtual realm he remains estranged from his family who he ran away from many years previously. He has no desire no yearning to be reunited with his odious family. A family he has utter antipathy and disdain for, not so much a family more like a selection of strangers who are genetically bonded to each other. In this utopian world his immediate family are indefinitely extracted from his life. From the pivotal moment he leaves home at the tender age of 16 he never again has a singular point of contact with his dreadful family.

This paradisiacal wedding is populated with corrinas populous eccentric family and their assortment of colourful vivacious friends. The multitude of relationships my alter ego forged with his extroverted gregarious personality over the years in Dublin attended the heavenly ceremony. This celebration of the eternal bond of love.

The wedding day arrived after almost a year of rigorous planning. A detailed relatively humble vision of a idyllic wedding with a perfect setting perfect music perfectly composed wedding vows in this immaculate sacred ceremony. The wedding began on a radiantly sunny June Dublin day. No clouds in the sky not a chance of a rain to blight this magnificent day. All the women were adorned in vibrant wedding attire. The men attending this glorious wedding were exhibiting traditional wedding garb. Wearing sharp suits that complement perfectly the setting and special occasion. The groom my alter ego looked resplendent in his navy blue 3 piece suit. The polarity of the wedding guests were sweating under the sweltering heat. Slowly the guest gathered inside a stunning catholic church. A architectural masterpiece a symbol of the majesty of god of the teachings of Jesus Christ. They excitingly congregated inside the awe inspiring venue a ornately decorated church with elaborate depictions of Catholic art. It was the ideal place to hold a ceremony of eternal love with 2 young souls making a sacred sincere commitment in the house of god. Despite the grooms aversions to organised religion despite his rejection of the dogma of Catholicism. His atheism didn’t preclude him from appreciating the aesthetic beauty of this centuries old Catholic Church. He compromised to his future wife’s desires to celebrate their unbridled love in this picturesque setting.

The momentous scene was set the guest sat patiently for the arrival of the luscious bride adorned in her heavenly wedding costume. The groom and his assortment of his closest friends had arrived. The groom waited nervously for the bride to arrive. He looked immaculate in his bespoke tailored 3 pice suit looking like the charismatic future musical icon. Then suddenly the ravishing bride appeared with her eccentric professorial father. The groom once again was overcome with her otherworldly enchanting appearance. Corrina walked down the aisle at a leisurely pace locked arm in arm with her idiosyncratic father. With every incremental footstep my alter ego anxiety heightened. The level of nervous anticipation was palpable within the interior of the church.

Finally the bride reached her destination at the altar where the start of this traditionally religious ceremony would commence. Corrina looked intensely into the eyes of the groom with desire with rapturous infatuation. The groom reciprocated her passionate non verbal lustful glances. He gazed deeply at this sublime vision this Venus in a wedding dress. He was unable to avert his lascivious gaze from his enchantress. The bride was standing there with flaming locks of auburn hair that cascaded down her luminous wedding dress. The groom grew ecstatic whilst staring intently at her piercing green eyes at her perfect ebullient smile. Whilst corrina was sauntering down the aisle the musics of u2 was being transmitted in this vast Irish church. The star crossed lovers had chosen the song all I want is you to be the soundtrack of the commencement of heir wedding. It was a song which evoked strong memories of falling in love of connecting physically and emotionally as young adults. The soaring music reverberated inside the walls of the church before the priest initiated the start of the ceremony.

Then a electrified silence fell in the church before the priest started the service. The majority of the service was a traditional marriage service until the 2 loves had requested for a reading of their self composed wedding vows. The groom gave a impassioned recital of his marriage proposal poetic ode to corrina with a few alterations to fit this occasion. Whilst his bewitching lover had a a composed a passionate succinct poem. She eloquently expressed her deep intimate bond her love for the groom. She articulated in this short poem the indestructible eternal bond they shared and had cultivated in the years they were together. After these 2 fiery displays of lyrical oratory the priest moved onwards to the final chapter of the ceremony. The final act of the service when the priest instructed the best man to give the ring to the groom. The final vows were recited these solemn sincere promises to the presets to the witnesses to each other and god. With the modest but exquisite rings were placed tenderly on both lovers and the vows were completed the preset made the glorious proclamation, declaring the young couple as husband and wife. My alter ego and corrina were enshrined under law as everlasting soulmates. The now married couple embraced in a elongated kiss the witnesses responded with joyous applause at this moments life changing event. The grooms nerves that preceded the wedding ceremony had transformed into feelings of pure exaltation of being in love. To make a sacred commitment before a collection of friends family members was a profoundly moving moment.

After the dreamlike wedding of my deepest fantasies a utopian imagination of love. The wedding celebrations continued with alcoholic excess the traditional post wedding itinerary. The post wedding banquet where the guests congregated to eat exemplary food and drink alcohol voraciously as important guests made speeches in reverence at the newly married couples love. Cillian had the honour to deliver a witty but heartfelt best man speech. He reminisced about the good times and the grooms travails his battles with a pathological mental illness. His speech was interspersed with moments of levity with emotional pathos. Telling anecdotes of the grooms destructive journey when he almost died. He articulated with unrestrained emotional fervour how thankful he was that the groom was unsuccessful in his desperate endeavour to cease to be alive. Concluding his impassioned speech by telling the multitude that he always believed these crazy people belonged together. That they had a intense connection even in the embryonic stages of their relationship.

The post wedding activities of eloquent sermonising and irreverent speeches concluded. Then came the epic Irish wedding party which was held in the local Irish pub. A large enough establishment to accommodate the majority of the wedding attendees. It was a party that lasted until the early hours of the following morning with drinking and consuming illicit drugs until the sun arose to illuminate the Dublin streets. The party was a marathon of music dancing drinking getting high on illegal substances and indulging in carnal desires. A wondrous event that venerated the mystical beauty of 2 souls finding love in a cold indifferent universe. The rich community of artists, painters, musicians all coming together in a celebration of humanity. This night this wedding day was a seminal juncture in his life where he and his guests were imbued with the radiant ecstasy of love. The night in this Irish pub with effervescent young people revelled in the music the intoxicating drug of human company. The night starts with a impulsive abundant consumption of alcohol after the already lavish intake of alcohol that was drunk at the wedding banquet.

Later as the party progressed when it became a more raucous atmosphere the drugs choices alternated. Now the bohemian wedding attendees started to partake in stronger psychoactive drugs. Edible cannabis was devoured with insatiable fervour. Some of his stoner friends had procured edible marijuana and brought it to the wedding as a present for this boisterous wedding party. They were precluded from smoking it in a public house as in this virtual world like reality cannabis was a illegal controlled narcotic. Hence they eat the highly potent edible which complemented perfectly the profuse intake of alcoholic cocktails. The married couple got drunk got stoned they sweated as they cavorted to the musical beat they laughed becoming intoxicated in the nirvana of their cosmic union. Corrina the alluring bride was their greeting stoned immaculate with the groom in her angelic glowing white wedding dress with her luminous porcelain visage. She danced kissed her besotted lover who felt so blessed to be legally bonded with a goddess. He envisioned a lifetime of exhilarating excursions with this women.

Unfortunately like all good time this boisterous epic party ended in the wee hours of the following morning. It was a enduring memory day that passed without a single instance of violence. A peaceful occasion with beautiful people coming together to venerate the perennial intangible power of love. When this wedding concluded the now married couple departed for a exotic honeymoon destination. With the generous present they were bestowed from corrinas financially prosperous family who gifted them a luxurious honeymoon in Jamaica.

This was a 2 week odyssey in a idyllic part of the world. They stayed in accommodation that was proximate to a luxurious Jamaican beach. It was the summer of their lives a heavenly honeymoon. Two weeks of lounging on picturesque beaches surrounded by gorgeous scenery. The honeymoon in Jamaica was a endless festival of sex and getting high getting inebriated night after night. The two newly married lovers immersed themselves with the Jamaican nightlife with the with the bustling nightclubs and bars drinking like 2 stereotypical Dubliners to intoxicated excess. Enjoying the utopia of this love, taking enormous pleasure in the cornucopia of Jamaican cocktails and strong alcoholic spirits which heightened the elation of being in love in a glamorous destination. It wasn’t only copious eclectic alcoholic cocktails they devoured with exuberance but also a variety of hallucinogenic and illicit stimulants were indigestion in this brief holiday of pure sensual pleasure. Potent cannabis was liberally smoked manly when they were inside their modest beachside accommodation. It was usually smoked after a night of excessive alcoholic fuelled partying. The cannabis served as a perfect anecdote to a mild hangover. It was inhaled throughout the day hence the amorous newly weds were in a perpetual state of drug induced bliss on this fleeting honeymoon. Other powerful mind bending enticing substances were also devoured in this memorable vacation. The couple would snort cocaine as a ideal aphrodisiac to enhance the pleasure of these endless sexual intercourse sessions. The newlyweds in this paradise of a honeymoon destination engaged in unconventional bohemian behaviour. The behaviour the lifestyle of hedonistic and narcotic excess that would be a foreshadow of the destructive unhealthy behaviour he indulges in when he a charismatic famous musician. Unfortunately this paradisiacal holiday in Jamaica had to end. The endless partying the festival of sex and getting high and waking up in a sublime part of the world had to end.

Returning home to reality in Dublin leaving behind the serenity the nirvana of the honeymoon. Corrina returned to her illustrious dangerous career as a distinguished journalist. Whilst my alter ego carried on his arduous journey towards achieving a modicum of success. My now he was in his mid to late twenties still persisting stubbornly with his fantastical dreams of artistic success. He just like the rest of his band would never relent in their pursuit of being a lionised artist. They watched as fellow artists, painters, poets and actors rose to prominence in their respective caregivers professions whilst the beatniks floundered in obscurity. They toured pertinaciously and were writing new songs at a prolific rate in the desperate unlikely hope their lofty ambitions would one day be realised. Still despite their obvious prodigious creative talents remained unsigned undiscovered.

Then one fortuitous night in Dublin when the band were playing to a devoted adoring audience in a intimate music venue. When a record scout was in the audience observing this dynamic life performance. A person who was eagerly looking for new exciting musical talent to sign to his record label. He saw this accomplished rock band of twenty somethings playing exhilarating music to a bewitched enthralled audience. He observed this charismatic frontman who would eventually become a iconic musician in the near future. This A&R scout after listening attentively to the beatniks play their standard set was certain in his mind this musical act was destined for musical immortality. After seeing this obscure undiscovered band in a small Dublin rock club he felt in his gut this musical collective could develop into something truly exceptional.

This ambitious charming A&R scout approached the band mates with a enticing offer of auditioning for a prospective record contract. This was the beginning of the beatniks ascension towards stratospheric levels of adulation and success. The A&R scout recommended the beatniks to a prestigious record company based upon witnessing this virtuoso musical outfit perform on several occasions. On his vociferous adamant recommendation the record company auditioned the band for a potential record deal. They auditioned providing a recorded cd of the majority of their finest material. The record executives were overwhelmingly impressed with the exemplary collection of self composed songs on this bootleg cd. They made a momentous bold decision to sign this promising band. From that day forwards my alter ego and his musical comrades go on a illustrious journey achieving fame riches and musical immortality.

In my elaborate fantasy land I imagine a 10 year period of continuous success from being signed. After years of struggle of toiling in obscurity the beatniks are transformed into being a group idolised by millions of entranced fans. Their first foray as a signed musical band was a towering commercial and critical success. Selling millions of albums a rapid ascension into the top echelons of music universe. The dizzying level of success is the realisation of his artistic aspirations giving him everything he coveted as a struggling undiscovered starving artist. With the instantaneous success comes the trappings of fame and financial prosperity. No longer living a onerous lifestyle of constant financial hardship with being initiated into another stratosphere of existence with the fulfilment of his dreams. He and the band were introduced and welcomed into the world of the entertainment glitterati with living in luxurious opulent mansions. With the towering success of their first album financial security was guaranteed. My alter ego and his cohorts were inducted into a seductive world of luxury of pure unabated unrestrained hedonism being able to procure whatever drugs he liked because of his fame his newly acquired wealth. He also took his circle of long suffering eccentric bohemian friends along with him on this exhilarating ride of financial riches and hedonism.

Throughout this sustained chapter of the beatniks ascension to the top echelons of the musical success corrina retained her eminent position as a investigative journalist. Using the newly procured financial security and celebrity of being a wife of a illustrious rock star to produce a prolific output of important documentaries. Using her soul mates wealth and fame to create even more explosive provocative journalism. Corrina wins acclaim and recognition for her substantive documentaries and long form print journalism which expose abuses of power around the globe.

Meanwhile there relationship continues to flourish despite some of the pernicious consequences of fame and wealth. Their bond is unbreakable strong enough to withstand the strains of being famous. A bond strong enough to combat the loss of privacy, the relentless intrusion from the media. They use their stupendous fortune to traverse the globe visiting exotic locations expanding their horizons to experience illuminating awe inspiring vistas. Using their obscene level of wealth to enjoy fully the beauty of nature exploring these untapped visually breathtaking landscapes. The limitless wealth from selling millions of albums and playing tours to millions of adoring fans afforded them a lifestyle of private planes vacationing in luxury with lavish accommodation. They lived a libertine lifestyle with a voracious sex life and profuse amounts of dangerous drugs that satisfied their insatiable appetites.

Being a prominent musician lead to many emotionally beneficial upshots. The emptiness the depression was temporarily abated with constant validation from besotted fans. The frequent requests for autographs for selfies from devoted fans was a positive byproduct of being mega famous. Enthusiastic supporters of the beatniks music expressed constantly their appreciation for the transformative effect their music had on their lives. Fans would confide that the beatniks exemplary music has provided them with comfort in times when they felt alone when they contemplated suicide. The music gave them a emotional catharsis that briefly assuaged the pain of being alive.

The greatest aspect of being a idolised talismanic frontman in a successful rock is the live performance of their creative material to tens of thousands of entranced supporters. Creating this sublime music from the depths of their imaginations into transcendent music is a magical experience but performing live music is pure ecstasy. Being on stage playing these confessional emotional naked musical creations having night after night the catharsis of performing the powerful music was a intense experience. Having the freedom the courage to be vulnerable to thousands of fans who reciprocate their feelings in a sea of love. This beautiful experience allowed my alter ego to reveal his suicidal predilections his tortured soul in the realm of a live concert event which was a substitute group therapy session.

Throughout his sustained career of critical and commercial acclaim my alter ego suffered from sporadic bouts of critical depression. He found that fame that artistic self actualisation didn’t cure him of his debilitating bipolar disorder. The periods when he was afflicted with suicidal black dog depression served as a muse for seminal music. Before he realised his ambitions he suffered infrequent protracted bouts of mental illness. When he was a poor struggling musician he treated his mental illness by going to inexpensive depression centres that enabled his rehabilitation from severe depression. He took a assortment of antidepressant pharmaceutical medications to combat to mitigate the negative behavioural traits of being a manic depressive.

When he became a artistic luminary of the music world this mental illness didn’t vanish from his consciousness. The same detrimental symptoms and traits remained ingrained in his extroverted personality. Now he had the financial resources to adequately treat a crippling mental illness. Having this wealth this eminence as a celebrated singer song writer didn’t prevent the prevalence of suicidal thoughts or reduce the likelihood of a suicide attempt. When he metamorphosed into a lionised ultra famous rock star he and his fellow band mates indulged in a debauched hedonistic lifestyle. Using the money the power of celebrity to consume a cornucopia of dangerous illicit narcotics. A smorgasbord of drugs were voraciously taken from amphetamine stimulants to cocaine to the family of hallucinogens that they consumed to instinct the elation of being alive. A endless cycle of partaking in mind altering substances was the normalised pattern of being a high flying rock star surrounded by beautiful people existing in a realm of drug induced bliss. Occasionally in this fantasy envision of being a illustrious rock star my alter ego used and abused these consciousness expanding chemicals to escape reality. He would self medicate with substances such as cocaine that worked perfectly in numbing in mitigating his protracted states of mental desolation he fell into. Trips to rehab getting addicted to cocaine to opioid painkillers having failed suicide attempts were negative part of his life as a tortured artist. He had infrequent stays in drug rehabilitation clinics to treat his multitude of drug addictions and cognitive psychoses. He found that achieving previously unimaginable levels of success didn’t inoculate him from his long standing psychological defects.

Over a 10 years period of continuous musical excellence the beatniks created album after album of sublime innovative music. Every new album was a reinvention of their musical style. They never became staid or derivative in their musical material it was original groundbreaking. The later work was more experimental and was political in its lyrical subject matter. Despite constantly altering their artistic sound the beatniks remained a perennial millions selling chart topping stadium filling phenomenon. Playing emotionally impactful songs that thousands of fans connected with. Every tour that followed after another critically lauded album was a dynamic visually mesmerising immersive entertainment experience. The band brought blood sweat and tears into these emotional raw life shows connecting deeply with millions of devoted fans. Just like the album the live gigs were provocative political charged events. The beatniks were fearless in their adamant determination to critique injustices around the western world. Like true renegade artists they challenged the status quo sung about dark subject matter and dark places humanity was heading towards. Throughout the beatniks history as celebrated musicians they became the most significant musical acts of their generation. My alter ego was christened as the spokesman for his generation. A venerated iconic figure comparable to kurt cobain or bob dylan who’s music deveined an entire generation who’s songs encapsulated the tumultuous time they were living in.

In this time there was innumerable triumphs many moments of elation and times when he endured personal setbacks. With his terminal battle with mental illness failed suicide attempts and his fortuitous in escaping from life threatening drug overdoses. However the decade of success of fame was predominantly permeated with happy memories. One day though all that joy all that light vanished from his life. Corrina had been filming another crucial documentary. This time in Gaza where she was documenting the plight of the Palestinian people. Chronicling the egregious human rights abuses committed by the Israeli forces on the occupied Palestinian people. This was another documentary film in a series films accurately critiquing the horrors of being Palestinian living in permanent occupation in a 21st century apartheid state. Whilst corrina was doing dangerous vital work interviewing oppressed downtrodden individuals living in Gaza a Israeli drone fired upon a suspected terrorist hotspot in Gaza. She had been situated filming interviewing Palestinians when her body was critically struck by a weapon of death. She was gravely wounded dying minutes later from the profusion of blood that emanated from her ravaged body.

The news of her death spread throughout the world. A prominent Irish journalist and wife of a iconic rockstar killed by another flagrant war crime committed by Israeli forces. The news of her untimely tragic death was broadcasted on all the 24 hour news stations it became the top news story of the day and week. Her death became a global scandal how a supposed democracy had accidentally killed a esteemed documentarian journalist. My alter ego was quickly alerted to this tragic news. He was informed by a grief stricken documentary cameraman who miraculously survived the drone attack. He was shell shocked by the harrowing news of the love of his life death. Then as the shock evaporated from his mind he felt a enormous wave of greed and sorrow hits his fragile mind. The horrifying unfathomable reality of corrinas tragic demise became in his head a tsunami of despair. The nightmare had become a reality of losing his angelic Irish beauty. To never speak to her again to never embrace her in a passionate kiss never again to be hugged to be healed from the hollows of despair by her limitless unconditional love and kindness. The initial shock of the news was replaced with despair and anger at Israel and the universe for taken away this ethereal beauty form his life.

As this tragedy became a international news story my alter ego and his army of closest companions comforted each other in his lavish Dublin mansion. A assortment of characters ravaged with grief consoled each other with a effusive demonstration of bereavement over this nightmarish tragedy. These weren’t stereotypical stoic Irish people rather these were emotional extroverts who were unrestrained unafraid to emote to express their sorrow in public.

The closest friends of corrina who gathered in my alter egos opulent mansion had decided to travel to Israel and Palestine to visit the exact location of corrinas tragic end. To traverse to Israel in the hope of returning her remains to her homeland of Dublin. This would be a horrific journey to visit the ghastly where corrina and many innocent Palestinians had been murdered by another abhorrent war crime perpetrated by Israel. The travelling crew had prognosticated that there was a distinct possibility Israel security forces would refuse them from entering Gaza. They hypothesised this because of my alter egos and the beatniks had been vehement critics of the Israel government with its inhumane treatment of the Palestinian people and African refugees. Still they persisted with the necessary ordeal of bringing home corrinas ravaged corpse. They departed from Dublin airport and shortly afterwards arrived at tele aviv airport for the short journey towards the subhuman dystopia that is Gaza. Throughout this perilous route my alter ego grew increasingly anxious increasingly despondent over the horrifying reality of visiting and identifying his lovers barely recognisable corpse. Traversing with a selection of motor vehicles containing the grieving intimate friends of corrina. They arrived promptly at the heavy militarised entrance to Gaza. It was a long laborious process being granted access to Gaza where the Israeli border officials were uncooperative in allowing the group from entering Palestine. After a long process the border officials reluctantly relented and allowed the eccentric crew of Irish people into Palestine into the occupied territory.

Then the true horror started as they were confronted with the aftermath of the devastating results of another round of Israeli bombing. As they meandered through the streets of Palestine they came across the poverty the dilapidated building all suffering rom the ruinous effects of endless occupation and war. Travelling further greeting ever closer towards the grisly scene where corrinas body would be found with numerous other innocent Palestinians. Now sitting in the backseat of the car tears streamed down my alter egos pallid face as the cavalcade of vehicles were close to the location of corrinas death. The rest of the travelling crew were a mixture of shell shocked and extroverted demonstrative displays of abject despair.

Finally the dreadful moment occurs when they reached the site of carnage of corrinas death. The gang arrived observed the ghastly scene of devastation caused by the savage Israeli attack on Palestine. They pulled up to within close proximity to the desecrated buildings that were bombed they got out of their various vehicles. My alter ego then fervently embraced the cameraman and the documentary crew who miraculously survived the savage attack despite being in the vicinity of the bombing. This was a poignant emotionally charged moment where there was a profusion of cascading tears from everyone the documentary crew and the travelling Irish friends of corrina. The area was filled with families of the murdered victims there was identified bodies hidden in body bags waiting to be identified and transported to the local mortuary. Eventually he time had come for corrinas mutilated body to be identified as definitely her.

My alter ego and corrinas closet friends volunteered to undertake this mortifying ordeal. He was shacking was overwhelmed distressed at identifying that this ravaged body was the love of his life. The body bag was opened up to reveal a grisly heart wrenching sight of a barely recognisable mangled corpse. This particular body was clearly corrina despite how badly her beautiful body had been damaged by this deplorable drone attacked. He was rendered inconsolable by this harrowing sight the grief flowed out of him he hugged tightly one of corrinas closest crimes who was with him to identify her corpse. Desperately he needed the love the warmth of his lifelong community of acquaintances to comfort him to prevent him from drowning in this maelstrom of desolation.

The ravaged body was correctly identified as corrinas so it could be sent to the mortuary to be preserved to prevent any further decomposition. The crew spent the night in this desolate landscape in Palestine with the beautiful oppressed people who welcomed the morning Irish people with open arms. The Palestinians we’re there also grieving another needless all too frequent loss of life.

The next day he became more seriously depressed almost suicidal as the desolating reality of corrinas death hit his fragile heart. He wandered alone in the streets on the beaches of Gaza in states of despair. He cast a solemn forlorn figure as he walked alone. Looking up to the heavens weeping uncontrollably for corrina weeping incessantly for the loss of her love the loss of future memories. The beauty the loss the sacred human connection with a perfect angelic human being shattered in a instance with a inhumane egregious act of war from a despotic regime. He cried a profusion of tears until he could cry no more. Wanting to feel every ounce of pain wanting the nightmare to end wanting to awake from the private perdition he had descended into. In the morning he mourned with friends with his Palestine comrades who had also suffered the traumatic loss of life of a intimate family member. There was consoling outward displays of emotional release in the streets if Palestine.

My alter ego and his array of grief stricken Irish friends were invited to attend a Palestinian funeral. A memorial to commemorate the innocents who were so cruelly murdered in another savage bombing of Palestinian territory. This funeral would be a cathartic venting of grief in a public venue where the mourners would find a modicum of solace in a visceral outward expression of grief. A public event in which those blighted with a tragic loss of life could pay homage to the newly deceased loved ones in a sacred religious ceremony. A ceremony with traditional music being played and mourners carrying the funeral caskets of the deceased. In Muslim cultures funerals take place within 24 hours of a persons death. After they reached the gravesite there would be a reading of a prayer with eventually the burying of the dead in hallowed burial sites.

This mass funeral was a glorious celebration of life a enlightening experience which showed the Irish people how other cultures commemorate the death of family or friends. My alter ego felt a intense bond with the Palestinians who had show brutally lost family members. They shared a horrifying connection through their grief their heart wrenching suffering of losing a cherished beloved figure in their lives. After this funeral the Palestinians and the Irish hugged bending deeply with a shared ordeal they were enduring.

After this cathartic indelible experience of the Palestinian funeral ceremony the travelling crew departed out this haunted land filled with beautiful people. Leaving the holy land to bring home corrinas slowly decaying corpse home to the motherland of Dublin. Bringing with them the footage from this important documentary which would be released posthumously. Getting this documentary corrinas swan song across the border was a onerous ordeal. The Israeli government were keen to seize this material which depicted the inhumanity of the permanent Israeli occupation of the Palestinian people. It was a arduous undertaking smuggling the vital footage across the occupied territory into Israel land. They managed to get the film footage into Israel and preserve it for posterity as a historical social document that portraying the abhorrent treatment of Palestinians by a savage authoritarian occupying force. The entire few days of this nightmarish ordeal left my alter ego with a deep hatred at the deplorable actions of Israel. For killing his beloved soulmate for robbing him of heavenly future memories. All the joy all the hope all the lust for life had vanished in a singular devastating tragic moment.

Now the despondent friends of corrina could return home to bury this celestial beauty in her hometown. Finally they absconded from Jerusalem to return home to the warm bosom of Ireland. My alter ego was relived and glad it be extricated from the precarious situation in Gaza. The constant danger of staying in a war zone with the threat of being bombed or shot at by Israeli forces. He left behind a ocean of tears left in Palestine he was left with a transformative memory of the wonderful warm compassionate Palestinian populous. The beauty of the people the tragedy of their plight haunted him it angered him of the egregious flagrant human right abuses being conducted by Israel on the indigenous people of Gaza.

Returning home on this onerous flight eventually landing after several hours in Dublin airport. Due to the fact of my alter egos mega stardom as a iconic rockstar this story became a momentous international news story. As a consequence the airport was overwhelmed with a cavalcade of journalists reporting for every conceivable prominent media outlet. There was also at the airport a sea of fans of the beatniks who were there to console to convey their compassionate super for the unimaginable pain of the loss of his soulmate. As the returning Irish gang left the plane they had to be escorted by security. The airport descended into pandemonium and deep sadness from the fans who congregated at the airport at seeing their idol stricken with grief. Through the maze of journalists, paparazzi and zealous compassionate fans they made it through the bedlam of Dublin airport towards their respective vehicles. Travelling frantically to the sanctuary of my alter egos mansion. A place where they’d be liberated from the circus of mass media intrusion. Inside the enclave of this opulent Dublin home they were free to grief in private with this intimate circle if bereaved friends.

The following days there was the agony or meticulously planning a funeral. The horror of burying a radiant beauty who now only existed in haunted evocative memories from photos of video recordings. Never again would my alter ego gaze upon the angelic beauties iridescent beaming presence never again would he be elevated by her kindness. Never again would he be kissed hugged touched sensually by a majestic beguiling Irish nymph. He in this long arduous journey to mourning her loss would have to accept the brutal reality of losing corrina forever. He felt utterly terrified at being completely alone with his grim realisation of losing his emotional buttress his shelter from the storms of suicidal depression. The premature death of corrina who healed who saved him on innumerable occasions from suicide. A person who had opened him introduced to the wonders of love. She assertively pushed him to treat his bipolar disorder with the beneficial combination of antidepressant medication and psychotherapy.

All that light had been extinguished forever now he felt his brittle soul being subsumed by fatalistic suicidal predilections. He had to prepare organise a funeral in the midst of the inner turmoil of his grief. The funeral was held approximately a week since corrinas harrowing demise. My alter ego and long standing acquaintances who were still encumbered with emotional wounds of losing a exceptional person. They were locked in paralysed shock unable to process the grief on the day of corrinas funeral. The funeral was held on a gloomy forlorn autumn Dublin day. There was no sunlight no beaming blue skyline just clouds shadows weather so fitting with the bleak occasion. Many esteemed journalists from across the world attended to pay homage to a revered investigative journalist. The funeral service was mainly populated by lifelong enduring friends of corrina who had known her from formative years at school of university. People who had numerous vivid memories of corrina throughout the course of her richly lived ebullient adult life. Fellow musicians celebrities who had been indelibly touched with corrinas charismatic presence attend to pay their respects to her effervescent spirit. She affected many people through who she directly came into contact with and through her seminal documentaries. This extroverted vivacious women transformed many lives with her exuberant life affirming spirit.

A cavalcade of individuals from all work of life from Dublin from the milieu of journalism to venerated musicians besieged the cavernous Dublin church to pay their final respects. Vast numbers paid tribute in this traditional catholic funeral with the ceremony conducted by a priest. There were speeches, anecdotes, poems and tear drenched songs and finally the burial of her casket into the earth which finalised her passing from life onto death.

The funeral attendees were adorned in somber austere attire. No vibrant vivacious clothes only the traditional monochrome colour scheme for this sacred religious ceremony. My alter ego was decked out in black garb from head to toe with nails painted black. He looked like a goth adopting the gloomy colour palette of a catholic funeral. Before the service commenced he smoked a cannabis joint to assuage to alleviate the emotional torment that was swirling round his damaged consciousness.on this melancholic day. He required the effects of powerful psychoactive narcotics to numb his senses to mitigate the pain of saying goodbye to corrina.

The funeral was inaugurated in the early hours of the gloomy afternoon. The vast church was overflowing with mourners as the austerely dressed priest initiated the ceremony. Already many of the attendees were excluding a profusion of tears even before any speeches any music was played. He kept his emotions in check realising he had to perform a final poetic ode to corrina. He ascertained had to hold back the day of emotion before he performed a powerful piece of carefully written verse. Before the he preformed his poem there was pieces of searing oratorical majesty from the priest. He eloquently lionised the beauty of corrina the way the light of her personality transformed lives by her coruscating inner beauty. It was a moving piece of oratory in which the priest waxed lyrical on the positive effect corrina had on whoever she came into contact with. The priest reminded the funeral attendees to not let yourselves become vitriolic angry or despair in the wake of her death in matter how tempting it is to let your be subsumed by these dark bitter thoughts. He told the attendees to reflect on the incalculable warm memories corrina gave us.

The long service continued with various speakers making moving anecdotes in which they paid homage to corrinas fertile legacy of distinguished award winning journalism. Emotional charged speeches indignant speeches which excoriated the way in which was killed injustice of her tragic a death how they missed corrina deeply. These intensely passionate monologues were interspersed with heavenly musical pieces. There was music from Chopin from Elgar and at the vehement request from her widower that they play all I want is you by u2. A sublime love ballad which was a recreation of the wedding day music a hauntingly sad song that evoked vivid memories of the ecstasy of being in love. The entire congregation where moved to tears by the poignant music being reverberated inside the ancient walls of this vast Catholic Church. The sadness of the occasion grew too much for many of the attendees. Who were rendered inconsolable with lacerations of despair that their were being emitted from their glum tear drenched faces.

It was close to the end of this beautiful but torturous service as my alter ego got up to articulate his thoughts on corrina. He presented a hauntingly powerful 20 minute piece of eloquent verse. Throughout this moving emotive epic poem he worked diligently to control his emotions. As he read aloud these sad words and scanned the faces of friends family members eminent journalists he found it immensely difficult to not break down and let out a tsunami of sadness. This beautiful poem was a potent piece of lyrical pathos in which he paid homage to a women who saved his life on numerous occasions. He reminisced on falling in love on being saved from the depths of a untreated pernicious mental illness and suicide. He read lines of poetry which described how this angelic creature shone a iridescent light on his tortured soul with her humanity her inner beauty. The poem he delivered on the altar was a superlative piece of literary verse a consummate laudation of the finite life of corrina. He delivered the poem in his characteristic verbose effusive style with a voice projecting unrestrained passion. He transmitted a extroverted engaging presence delivering this poem in a uninhabited style, eulogising on love on the infinite beauty of corrinas spirit. Towards the climax of this effusively delivered ode to corrina the emotions became to cascade down his pallid visage. His lips quivered tears flowed freely like a waterfall down his tortured ashen face. He pronounced the final line of sublime poetry as the audience responded with thunderous applause. There was profuse crying as a fitting response to a exemplary poetic tribute to corrinas life. As he concluded his poem he ran down the altar to the front aisle with tears cascading down his haunted face. He then embraced cillian in the aisle in a warm poignant display of mutually shared grief. The intense and long service ended with the mourners leaving for the final act of closure the burial. The distinguished collection of attendees lethargically left to walk towards the gothic burial site.

It was a large gathering who attended this forlorn scene, the closings act of the sacred funeral service. The austere priest again recited prayers as the funeral casket was slowly lowered into the grave. The witnesses were all inconsolable at the horrifying reality of burying a cherished beloved friend. As the casket was gradually lowered my alter ego in a improvised act of uncontrollable despair got down on his knees placed both his arms on the casket. He bleed tears he bleed for the death of his soulmate his wounds his scars were exposed to the rest of the mourners. He was laying almost prostrate completely emotionally naked and vulnerable in this expressive eccentric display of grief.

Finally after what seemed like a eternity the casket was buried the last lump of dirt covered the casket. Corrinas casket and body was completely submerged by the earth as her decomposing body would remain inside this gravesite for eternity. The cathartic funeral service had ended many tears were shred many wonderful elucidating words were conveyed inside the church. Now the gathering mourners relocated to my alter egos mansion to celebrate to commemorate her life to console each other. This post funeral party was a typical raucous party where rather than the guest acting all despondent they rejoiced they venerated corrinas effervescent indomitable spirit.

A post funeral party a strange notion to celebrate with alcohol and music a death of a newly deceased loved one. It’s a surreal sensation to have concurrent emotions of sadness and joy this was the odd mood of this strangely lively jubilant party. This epic party lasted for days lifelong friends reminisced over enduring memories of corrina. Excessive quantities of alcohol was devoured, cannabis was also smoked with reckless abandon it was a quintessential raucous Irish post funeral party. This wasn’t a stereotypical austere post funeral gathering this was a bohemian party where consciousness altering drugs where consumed to compliment the intimate warm conversation. In my alter egos spacious mansion poignant sentimental music was played at a thunderous volume as the music sound waves echoed through the walls. The party was populated with long term deep rooted friends of corrina who had know her since her university education.

This celebration of corrinas illustrious life was attended with a assortment of eminent journalists. Who had cultivated friendships working closely with corrina in their shared professions. The prestigious journalists who stayed in this mansion had a deep admiration for corrinas important documentary films. Beyond their reverence for her critical journalistic work they felt a deep affection for her as a wonderful colourful warm human being. There was dancing playing of music tears and laughter was shared as nostalgic music was played at a boisterous volume. Attendees of thus jubilant gathering got high got drunk for this marathon of a party for days. There was hugging empathetic moments of emotional poignant in this epic post funeral commemoration of a richly lived life.

The party after several days of excessive hedonistic frivolities eventually ended. It was a joyous surreal occasion of a communal veneration of the boundless beauty the unparalleled humanity of corrina the luscious Irish goddess now gone into the vast nothingness. After the festivity had concluded my alter ego was left isolated in a cavernous mansion. He felt deeply the hollow if despair felt the acid in his soul of the loss of corrina. This once vibrant atmosphere of this house had degenerated into a haunted gothic mansion. With memories in every room with photographs and sentimental artefacts of their romance saved to preserve the nirvana of her love. For months he stayed ensconced in his walled off mansion living like a hermit crab in a protracted state of suicidal depression. Habitually waking up in mid afternoon after another lonesome night of heavy powerful drug use. Waking in a state of malaise struggling to adjust to the emptiness of being without corrina. He spends all day drinking shots of whisky at a gluttonous pace and concurrently snorting cocaine to numb the pain that was slowly killing him. Whilst he was intoxicated with a cornucopia of chemicals swirling round his body he would consume old video documentaries and he’d emotionally fixate on old photographs of them together. He tried to preserve the fading remnants of a 20 year relationship by obsessively gazing at images and videos that documentation corrinas illustrious life and career. This prolonged state of depression that followed the torturous funeral lasted for months. As he dissociated from the world whilst he locked himself in solitary confinement feeling a modicum of safety in his sequestered remote Irish mansion.

He wrote poetry at a prodigious pace to purge himself of the acid pain of this unbearable loss. After many months of existing in a melancholic drug induced hazy languid state where he lived as a hermit never venturing outside he just confined his frail self the sanctuary of his mansion. To break out of his protracted funk he relocated to Jamaica where he hoped to write poetry and lyrics for a new album in this luxurious sanguine locale of his opulent beachside mansion. He would be further exiled from the prying eyes of journalists. Deciding in the serene ambience of his Jamaican property to write a epic poem that chronologically chronicled his 20 year magnificent love affair with his Irish Venus. The poetry book would be a literary tribute to this Irish goddess who he shared many sublime and tragic experiences. He also planned to write material for a double concept album this creation would proceed him writing the epic poetic ode to corrina. This album he envisioned in his mind would be a artistic document to their illustrious love story. The first act of the album would depict through the medium of music their turbulent but wondrous 20 year romance. Elucidating all the peeks and troughs of a 20 year infatuation. The second act of the concept album would delineate the horrendous ordeal of having his amour die in a act of savagery. He hoped to describe hearing the news visiting the horrifying scene of her death in Gaza, the trauma of her funeral. The terminal inner torture he has endured in the proceeding months after the torturous funeral of his charismatic Irish nymph.

In the secluded exotic local he created these 2 artistic projects writing at a voracious expeditious pace. He was determined to use the premature death of corrina as a muse for creating superlative art. With the trauma of the preceding months he was imbued with a rekindled inspirational sensation to create. The outstanding verse flowed liberally from his inspired consciousness as he rapidly constructed a fully realised magnum opus.

After nearly a year of sequestration from the living world, a year in which he immersed himself in these dual artistic ventures. He finally completed his poetic homage to corrina and a multitude of embryonic songs for his new audacious concept album. Through the tears through the daily dirge of depression though pervasive suicidal thoughts his ambitions projects were completed. During his time in exile writing prodigiously he spoke to nobody apart from strangers who delivered his necessary food items for survival and couriers who delivered the cornucopia of narcotics he was consuming in his year in isolation. When he finished these lyrical masterpieces he returned home to Dublin to reunite with his band. He reactivated his neglected relationships with his bevy of friends who lived in Dublin after a year locked away in hermitage. Living away from the rattle and hum of the bustling modern world he was able to introspect to recover from the trauma of losing his luscious Irish lover. In isolation in deep meditative introspection he overcome the perpetual thought of killing himself to generate exalted music and poetry.

The collection of poems that documented his erotic odyssey of being love was published. It was a verbosely written book of poetry that chronologically depicted through lyrical sublimity the beauty the transcendental power of falling in love. The poetic ode which illustrated his romance was the apotheosis of his supreme lyrical acuity it would be viewed as his poetic magnum opus. This was another published poetry collection in a career where he produced a multitude of published poetry books in a highly prolific literary career. In the medium of verse he was revered for his verbal dexterity as he created elaborate inner landscapes that enflamed the readers imagination.

After the exultant empathically glowing reviews for his latest book of poetry that portrayed his tumultuous love odyssey with the women of his dreams he worked assiduously on s next artistic masterpiece. This time in the musical field where the beatniks would attempt to convey in a ambitious double album the 20 year love affair and the harrowing tragic death of his ethereal goddess. The songs had already been conceived in Jamaica where he was writing fervidly inspired by the soul crushing death of his muse.

The concept album was crafted and completed after many long months of arduous effort in their state of the art Dublin recording studio. The songs flowed into each other seamlessly articulating perfectly through music the beauty of her life her legacy of seminal documentaries her turbulent but poignant relationship with her English lover. This was a perfectly written concept album that felt like a epic novel retelling a momentous love and death story via the venue of music. The first act of the album had adroitly written lyrical tributes to corrina, with haunting reflections on falling in love with a ethereal vision descended from the heavens. It depicted with the marriage of music and poetic verse the various significant stages the tragedies the setbacks the triumphant moments in their abiding romance.

The second act took a drastic darker musical vision. Retelling the devastating day when corrina was killed in a heinous attack from Israel. The second side of the album delineated ever horrifying detail of that fateful day. The majority of the gloomy second album concentrated on the days after the tragic death of the heroine the inspiration for this epic tragic love story. There were songs of vitriolic anger in which my alter ego vented his fury at the egregious actions of Israel in committing countless war crimes. In the second act he aims he expresses with unrestrained righteous indignation at Israel for taking away his angelic beauty from him. The main theme of the second act was anger, sadness and suicidal depression following a devastating death of a loved one. The final songs of the album focused on the months after corrinas funeral where he lived in self imposed isolation suffering from depression and seriously contemplated killing himself. The second act of this momentous album illustrates how a single act of violence can adversely effect a one persons life. The epic album concludes with a determined stubborn act of deviance of overcoming the grief and remembering the boundless humanity of his luscious Irish goddess.

This ambitious audacious attempt to celebrate a love affair to articulate through music the detrimental effects of a single violent act was met with resounding critical acclaim. It was regarded by critics and fans as the beatniks masterpiece. A album where this musical collective produced a collection of songs that adeptly weaved a linear storytelling narrative of a love tragedy. The double sided concept album sold in the million helping the band to ascend to the apex of the music world. The tour which followed the release of the album was a rollercoaster emotional expedition for the charismatic but emotional tortured lead singer. Night after night he bared his wounded vulnerable soul to tens of thousands of adoring besotted fans. It was gratifying it was emotionally cathartic to perform to audience that was receptive to his emotional pain.

The tour was incredible a laudation of the life of corrina the beneficial effects she had on him. This was a stripped down tour with 4 exemplary musicians playing emotionally impactful songs. It was a radical contrast to previous tours which had a highly produced colourful onstage set which projected a kaleidoscopic of imagery to the fans. Previous world tours had been these expensive concert experiences whilst the latest tour had a modest onstage set aesthetic. No neon lights no pyrotechnics just 4 musicians playing powerful songs with a slideshow of corrina photographs being projected throughout the performance. Over the course of this tour my alter ego abstained from taking powerful narcotics. Preferring to get high on cannabis and consume lavish quantities of alcohol. Like the rest of the band he wanted to enjoy the experience of playing life without the tranquillising numbing effect of potent addictive opiates.

As the momentous tour progressed he reasoned this would be his last tour his swan song as a iconic rockstar. Never again would he compose music for a album with the band or as a solo singer songwriter. The pernicious effects of losing corrina still tortured him that loss weighed on his fragile soul everyday. He had committed privately to retire indefinitely from the pubic world to write poetry as a virtual recluse. Wanting to no longer perform live to write any music to participate with the world. Deciding within himself the severe depression was too onerous, so he planned to commit himself to a noxious diet of excessive consumption of opiates. Wanting to take heroin intravenously to numb the pain of being a mentally ill bipolar musician all alone in his private darkness. He had purchased a luxury remote mansion in the south of France where he intended to exist in self imposed hermitage. He would either kill himself by suicide or the ruinous effects of being heroin addict. The pain the depression had metastasised like a cancer proliferating throughout his psyche affecting his list for life his will to be alive.

He kept these dark envisions of his grim future private. Up on till the final performance of the seminal tour where he finally divulged his plans for the future. The last performance would be at the majestic mystical Glastonbury festival. Where the beatniks would headline this prestigious musical festival. A few night prior to performing the final musical performance he made a dramatic announcement to his fellow band mates. He detailed his plan to retire forthwith from music after the tour had concluded. Declaring vehemently that he could no longer perform these physically and emotionally exhausting songs. The psychological scars of corrinas death had left him too ravaged and wounded for him to be a functioning performer or human being.

The band members reacted with disbelief and were apoplectic at his seemingly capricious decision to abscond from the musical industry. They argued incandescently for hours whilst my alter ego remained intransigent in his plan to never play write or perform again after the Glastonbury show. The exacerbation continued into the last performance of their touring odyssey. Cillian was the most accepting of his declarative decision to retire. Cillian though internally believed his best friend would reverse his retirement plans after months had passed of being away from the allure of the live performance. Cillian believed fervently that my alter ego would miss the high the adulation the gratification live and creating transformative music with his best friends. The rest of the and and the bands entourage remained indignant at his selfish erratic decision to leave music indefinitely.

The furious band members were able to discard temporarily their anger for one final performance. Isabella was the most incandescent with rage venting her vexation at the lead singer. She realised that this would be the last ever time they would play as a foursome. She ascertained that my alter egos pronouncement of not being able to perform the material of being unable to be that emotionally vulnerable night after night was a painfully earnest statement.

The actual gig at Glastonbury was a consummate live show. The virtuoso musicians connected with the effervescent Glastonbury crowd. The lead singer withheld from making his devastating announcement to the audience until the final few songs. When he eventually proclaimed his intentions that he would never again play live or create music ever again it was met with apoplectic howl from the stunned crowd. He delivered a passionate succinct speech detailing his reasons why he chose to abandon his illustrious career as a eminent rockstar. The speech was followed by a exultant and intense final performance. There was a profusion of tears from the beguiled but heartbroken audience as the beatniks ardently played their last few songs from their set. The lead singer weeper freely throughout every song that followed his announcement. This live performance would be seen as their swan song their final act. The 4 iconic skinny weary ban members left the stage for the final time. With their exhausted bodies drenched in sweat and faces soaked in emotion.

The tour official ended the last tour from their last album. As the various band mates went on a year long sabbatical from the arduousness of being rockstars. They went on luxurious holidays to replenish their exhausted bodies. Hoping praying that my alter ego would reverse his drastic plans to live in exile away from the pubic. To sequester himself in a cavernous gothic mansion to plunge himself into deeper states of spiritual twilight. He made these plans despite the vociferous protestations from his lifelong friends. Relocating from his Dublin mansion to the south of France in the winter months of his finite life. He meticulously prepared his inevitable suicide or drug overdose by carefully crafting his will. In the midst of severe depression he rigorously detailed every inch of his financial empire with his lawyers and solicitors.

After he diligently finalised his will for his planned death he emigrated to the south of France. To live as a hermit living completely secluded from the outside world in his private enclave. Occasional visitors would arrive for a day or two. Other than that it was a lonely sad lifestyle he had fallen into. Taking with him to his vast residence a cornucopia of powerful narcotics. He would spend his isolated last few months weeks days getting obliterated on a variety of opiates on cocaine and a potent cocktail of string liquors. All the while writing a prolific output of prose and verse as his mental acuity slowly deteriorated.

At times he missed being on stage missing the acclaim the adulation of his fans. He could no longer function in that stressful environment he was too tortured too emotionally scarred to be on stage to allow himself to be emotional naked. He reminisced of better times when he didn’t have this crushing iron weight of unbearable despair bearing down on him. A relentless pain that only was ameliorated by numbing his body by injecting a syringe full of liquified heroin several times a day. He evoked with his daydreaming vivid memories of corrina of falling on love having sex experiencing pure ecstatic heavenly bliss with another person. These memories haunted him as he looked upon photographs at videos where corrinas radiant beauty illuminated his tortured self for a fleeting moment in time.

When he wasn’t writing verses with his insatiable desire to express his damage inner reality he would expend his time in painful nostalgic reflection. Being transfixed with the strong aroma of poignant memories that were evoked by gazing at images of his past. Looking at the love of his life corrina who was the a vision of female perfection almost flawless. This voluptuous Irish women with a porcelain unblemished complexion and piercing green eyes that beamed into the windows of his soul without evasion or artifice. She was a artistic masterpiece brought to life and seeing her voice her soul through those images and videos in the carrousel of his past was a haunting experience.

Since her untimely harrowing death my alter ego had refrained from engaging in sexual congress with another soul. No other women or men would experience physical intimacy with this enigmatic artist he lived a chaste sexually pure live. He had a multitude of lustful admirers such as famous pop stars, supermodels who desired this charismatic elusive genius. The idea of a sexual relationship with anybody other than the Irish siren who transformed his life was antithetical to his nature.

He spent months living in complete seclusion in a ivory tower like complex. Continuing to indulge in a smorgasbord of dangerous illicit narcotics despite the ruinous effects on his long term physical and mental health. Becoming slowly addicted to both heroin and cocaine drugs that anaesthetised his body to the pain of being him. As the months dragged on his dependency intensified he needed the bump of coke the injection of heroin or a line of snorted prescription opiates to function. Still he persevered with writing a abundant output of new material despite being severely depressed and addicted to heroin.

One day though he awoke and was fully cognisant that he couldn’t go on being alive. He started to plan meticulously for his manner of suicide. Now was the time he was fully prepared to face death wanting to be vanquished forever from the world of humans. He had to decide the method of suicide the deadly concoction of chemicals he would ingest to render his body lifeless. There was a multitude of choices that he needed to decide upon to execute a perfect suicide. He planned to pen a lengthy suicide note that delineated lucidly his reasons why he ended his life. The suicide note would his final creative act in a lauded career of literary and musical brilliance. After ruminating for several days had decided to kill himself by hanging whilst high on heroin. Wanting that slow painful death wanting expire from life as he slowly leaves his gnarled emaciated body. The heroin would elicit one last sublime drug induced high before he disappeared into oblivion.

Ethereal classical music would be the perfect compliment to his last hours on planet earth. He intended to play a playlist of Jacqueline du pre’s cello concertos, music which elicited poignant nostalgic memories for him reminding him of cara and especially corrina. Minutes before he initiated his nihilistic act of self destruction he would notify the emergency services of his injurious intentions to end his life. Informing them in a attempt to prevent his corpse from rotting for weeks or perhaps months without being discovered by a rare visitor. However the route towards the opulent gothic mansion was too arduous for the emergency services to reach his mansion in time to thwart his suicide attempt. His gothic mansion was in a remote secluded locale it was situated hours from the nearest town or emergency services. The ambulance staff would eventually see his emaciated body far too late to foil a suicide attempt. All they could do is inform the local mortician to prepare his slowly decomposing corpse to be preserved and embalmed so it can be prepared for a funeral burial.

The end was nigh we woke up resolute that today was the day when he would commit this brutal act of self immolation. All the planes and considerations had been decided upon, he palnned to kill his scrawny drug ravaged body in the early hours of the evening. He starred in the bathroom mirror at this gaunt haunted ghost like visage who wanted nothing more than to cease to be. The excruciating pain of life of the loneliness had driven him to this desolate place. He assiduously prepared the deadly cocktail of narcotics that he would consume. Preparing the heroin and the other chemicals that be added to the heroin laced syringe. He fastidiously prepared the cocaine by chopping up the coke into neatly arranged lines on his glass table. The bottle of finest aged American whisky would be his last alcoholic drink before he shuffled of his mortal coil. Then he arranged his perfectly organised musical playlist for his last few hours on planet earth. Finally the time had arrived this ritualistic suicide would commence.

The hauntingly sad classical music reverberated across the walls of this cavernous mansion. Chopin was initially being played as his pallid faced human was voraciously downing shots of the finest whisky. The whisky served as a delicious appetiser for this nihilistic feast of excess. Lines of cocaine were intermittently snorted as a perfect complimentary stimulant to the plentiful consumption of whisky. This pattern of whisky being drunk which was interspersed with lines of the finest cocaine lasted for hours. Then the final hit of intravenous heroin laced and cut with a cornucopia of chemicals including amphetamines and a sprinkling of cocaine was delicately prepared. The opiate drug concoction was prepared in the convention manner he had habitually taken injections of heroin. With the heating up the narcotic cocktail on a spoon then transporting the liquified opiate to a needle before the final glorious act of finding a vein to inject the liquified chemicals directly into his inebriated bloodstream. The heroin would flow into his body for one last hit one last ride of pure drug induced nirvana.

Next in his suicide itinerary was the calm fully planned phone call to the french emergency services. Where he would succinctly inform them of his grievous intension to end his life. Following the phone call he expeditiously prepared the noose to hand himself before the ambulance staff arrived at his secluded gothic mansion. Making sure that Elgar’s cello concerto played ebulliently by the virtuoso cellist Jacqueline du pre was playing on repeat. Wanting this haunting beautiful piece to be the final music his fragile ears would hear. Before he actualised his suicide he examined himself in the mirror for one last time. He saw this gnarled emaciated image of a man who barely looked human. He appeared like a dead person with sunken cheeks and hollow sad haunted bloodshot eyes which were once imbued with a exuberance for life.

After he fixed his neck inside the noose there was the beautiful cello music was loudly echoing throughout his empty mansion. Soon it would be over no more torturous protracted depression no more emptiness soon he would become a mere memory a ghost. Minutes had passed the heroin numbed dulled the brutal pain of hanging himself. He felt his body slowly pass out of light into permanent darkness into the black hole of oblivion. He could perceive that the cold hands of death was approaching sensing the essence of life vanish out of his languid body. He took the last few breaths of a rich but tragic life. He reflected with his last breath what a forlorn end to a fruitful impactful existence.

Then my alter ego ceased breathing ceased to be a living sentient being now he was a phantom a sad memory. Hours after he stopped breathing when his body was cold the emergency services appeared in his remote residence. They entered his premises by forcing their way inside to when they discovered a hanging corpse with no signs of life no pulse no breathe. They ascertained this was no desperate cry for help rather it was a genuine valid suicide attempt from a severely mentally ill prominent but fading musician.

Hours after his heroin ravaged body was found his untimely suicide became a momentous international news story. For a iconic artist to die alone in his opulent but empty mansion was a heart wrenching tragedy for his millions of fans. His death became the most covered news item for weeks. Fans laid flowers outside of his neglected Dublin mansion and his french mansion the scene of his harrowing death. There was a shrine that was laid outside the gates of his Dublin home. With handwritten condolences, poems, a vast collage of flowers, photographs that were carefully placed in remembrance of their idol. Fans weeped at losing a indelible figure who articulated their inner emotional struggles of being young and suffering from depression.

The depth of emotional outpouring was overwhelming. The gates of his empty neglected mansion became a permanent shrine to their fallible fragile but charismatic musical hero. The hysterical level of grief from millions of his anguished remained unabated until the day of his funeral. Ten of thousands of mourning distraught supporters turned out to pay their respects on the streets of Dublin where the grandiose funeral was held. The funeral was more akin to a state funeral with the ritualistic burying of a revered cultural icon.

The funeral procession was a slow one as the streets were overflowing with a abundance of mourners who traveled far and wide to grief for their fallen idol. The hearse languidly travelling towards the Dublin cathedral which was festooned with flowers placed by zealous mourners. Eventually after a arduous scenic journey for the procession of vehicles which had to contend with swaths of heart broken supporters the funeral cavalcade reached their destination.

It was a majestic funeral befitting for a individual who’s illustrious life was being mourned. The funeral attendees were lifelong friends who had been acquainted with him since he was a precocious teenager. Other attendees were eminent musicians members of the Dublin artistic community who came to pay homage to a genius poet and rockstar. Prominent celebrities attended to grief in this enchanting capacious Irish cathedral.

The service in the cathedral lasted for hours. There was eloquent speeches poems recited from my alter egos vaunted literary career. Cillian made a impassioned monologue filled with laughter with lament with a profusion of tears. He opined over the tragedy of his suicide of losing his creative soulmate at such a relatively young age. Various lifelong friends delivered similar moving speeches where they eulogised on the beauty of this tortured tender soul. In between passionate orations music from the beatniks back catalogue was played. Songs from their seminal last album blared and reverberated inside the walls of this spacious cathedral as emotions flowed from the funeral audience. The beatniks most exalted songs were played as well as the haunting classical piano of Chopin and my alter egos favourite musical piece Elgar’s cello concerto. The haunting poignant classical piano music and tear jerking sounds of the cello was in congruence with the melancholic ambience of the funeral.

The service concluded with the priest reading from my alter egos love poems from his final epic poetic work. He read from his poetry anthology which exquisitely documented a 20 year romantic relationship. The priest spoke with fervour with deep mournful sadness as he battled and struggle to mandating his stoic countenance in the face of the waterfall of emotion which was evoked from thus sublime love poem. The ceremony ended with thunderous applause at the pathos and catharsis that the collective mourners had experienced.

His body was buried according to his wishes detailed in his will adjacent to corrinas grave. The burial was a private event with a intimate selection of longstanding friends attending this final act of this sacred religious service. Again emotions ran high with the mainly Irish mourners displaying a unstereotypical extroverted demonstrative display of their grief. No dry eyed Irish funeral austerity but a profuse outpouring of lament from the mourners. The mood grew increasingly hysterical with tears cascading down their ashen faces as the casket was lowered into his grave. Then was another reading from his verbosely written poem which the priest once again orated ardently. After the eloquent poem was completed the service had official ended with the passing of a meaningful full but tragic life.

Friends, admirers, celebrities congregated at cillians plush mansion to commemorate the passing of a beautiful fragile soul. The post funeral part goers exchanged anecdotes played the entirety of the beatniks discography throughout the night. He was mourned around the globe where he was eulogised as the spokesmen for his generation. In death he was venerated for his preeminence in the field of music and poetry. Fans continued to flock to the scene of his suicide in his french mansion and his Dublin home. These 2 sites in time became shrines to his enduring legacy as a rockstar. In death he was exalted into the pantheon of musical immortality. His legacy was the creation of powerful transformative emotional music and compelling political charged messages articulated though the medium of music.

This is how the story ends with this elaborate fantasy world and a character I’ve created in my atypical consciousness. A alternative perfect version of me who lead a extraordinary life of success and adventure. A fantasy alter ego that has all the positive attributes i lack in my abnormal introverted personality. He is a charismatic gregarious attractive successful admired person who realises his lofty dreams unlike myself. As my disorder has intensified in the severity of the antisocial symptoms of being schizoid throughout my adult life this predilection to fantasise to live vicariously via a illusionary world has exacerbated. As i have become increasingly antisocial neglected friendships this virtual world become more seductive more alluring. The intricate inner world a kind of immersive virtual reality video game that exists in the depths of my boundless imagination. The dream world helps me inoculate myself from the torment of being schizoid. The loneliness the depression of being me were anaesthetised by this pathological propensity to fantasise. In this perfect human nirvana that has proliferated in my dysfunctional brain every essential human experience i am deprived of in reality is actualised in this vast universe. In my utopian inner world i have sex i have friends I experience love there is success I have fame i have genuine profound human connection I have boundless riches i am hugged i get depressed. I am truly alive existing in unbridled inhibition living striving for dreams that i attain. In the big blue dream world I am loved get to experience the paradise of being in love having a sexual partner that loves me that cherishes me.

Outside of the sanctuary of my capacious inner universe is reality which is brutal icy place. A plane of existence where human connection remains so allusive . A world of broken dreams a hollow nothing life. This private fantasy world enables me to function to pacify the depression to numb the pain. My private utopia is a place a person a life that i will never be or get to tangibly experience.

Chapter 8 The Purgatory Of 9 Till 5

Every working day starts and ends in the same laborious way. There’s no meaningful differentiation from one day to the next. It’s me completing the same task the exact duplicate itinerary for every single working day. It’s a vacuous boring subsistence existence that i have been condemned to endure. The routine however is comforting allowing myself for prolonged stretches of isolation from direct human contact. It’s my solitary employment I have maintained for over a decade now that protects me from proximate human interaction.

Despite the tedium of working in a claustrophobic intellectually uninspiring environment it provides me with solace working in a menial warehouse locale. The dearth of direct social communication the limited verbal acuity that is needed to be a functional employee at TWC are beneficial to my defective personality. The atmosphere however is slowly poisoning me with the noxious fumes of alienation I force myself to abide every single working day. The lack of intellectual stimulation the suffocating ambience of the warehouse where i can sense my dreams being slowly crushed. I can feel my body emptying out my eyes becoming dead and haunted surviving in the drudgery in the machinery of TWC.

My day at work commences early in the morning. The structured rigorously work pattern is me working from 10 in the morning until 6 in the evening. I undertake these hours every weekday from Monday till Friday. Every day is indistinguishable from the previous. I arise from my blissful slumber from my subconscious escape from the dirge of my working reality at around 9 o’clock. I could emerge from my cosy bed significantly earlier. The stress the bleakness of another 8 hours at that dreadful job compels me to arise no earlier than is required in my strictly observed workday itinerary. I awaken earlier than is required before 9 o’clock then realise to my horror its not a day off from the tedium of another day of 8 hours of purgatory. Getting up any earlier would be a futile act i would simply be impatiently waiting to embark on another journey to work. I arise at 9 o’clock almost precisely not a minute before arising only when its necessary when i just enough requisite time to fully prepare myself for the ordeal of a 8 hour shift at TWC.

I force my body to become vertical at 9 o’clock performing the same cycle of repetitive functions. Firstly i rush to the bathroom and commence brushing my gnarled deformed gnashers. Never gazing at the hideous reflection in the mirror. The sadness that will be invoked at observing the ugly image that will appear in the mirror of my bathroom if i make the mistake to fix my eyes on this deformed freak. I brush my quintessentially English teeth which are showing the advances symptoms of gun disease. These once radiant teeth that once along time ago when i smiled revealed a glorious beaming youthful smile. Now in public I’ve become so intensely self conscious at these grotesque unappealing teeth that i refrain from smiling or laughing to prevent me from exposing my ugly fangs to the world. My self consciousness at the sad state of my teeth is emblematic of the flaws the holes in my personality my aversion to be vulnerable. My separation and aloofness from people in order to alleviate the pain the depression i have endured all this is encapsulated in my reticence to smile to laugh to portray my glaring physical imperfections.

I complete the routine task of cleaning my yellowed teeth. It’s a laborious task i undertake everyday in a hopeful futile effort to mitigate the effects of my gum disease and eventual tooth loss. My teeth are symbolic of my fading beauty my decline form a promising young adult into this socially exiled human ghost. After the obligatory cleaning of my teeth. I shave my pasty unappealing face wash my face with mainly cold water and soap. After I have completed these menial tasks in a specific order there’s no time to run a bath. I awoke from my slumber far too late to perform this essential cleaning function. Instead according to my strictly observed daily routine I have a bath when i arrive home from another wearisome 8 hour shift at TWC.

After i have finished my pre work requisite cleaning tasks I dress myself in the appropriate attire for work. I clothe my body in the TWC mandated uniform or rather as i have christened it the corporate prison uniform. As i place the TWC apparel on my skinny ashen body i sense myself sacrificing all my individuality. I am reduced to becoming another corporate robot a mere number in a faceless corporate machine. It’s a daily depressing reminder of how low i have sunk how little i matter in the world. The uniform is indicative that I have become this invisible inconsequential presence in a indifferent cold world.

Placing on the drag TWC garb reminds me of my position in life how i am condemned to working into a menial employment i never desired. As a teenager I yearned for a vocation with some excitement that inflamed my imagination that fulfilled my creative passions. I dreamed along time ago of being a successful musician of scaling the walls of this town escaping the moil of starvation poverty wages. Now I have been cursed due to the severity of my personality disorder to be restricted to a limited vocational opportunities.

I display myself in the TWC attire and everyday my body is imbued with a sense of worthlessness that i am a nothing being just wasting his life in a hollow form of employment. Covering my emaciated body in the uniform is the final step before i embark on my journey towards another day in purgatory. I never gave myself the time to satiate my appetite by having a healthy breakfast to appropriately start the day. There’s not even ample for a warm caffeinated beverage. I wake up like a zombie brush my disfigured teeth and dress myself. Then i leave my isolation cell and depart towards the hive of a TWC warehouse. No opportunity other than to complete these rushed set of customary assignments. No television no consumption of any food.

Then i prepare my mind for the ordeal of vacating my flat and face the intense anxiety of the outside world. Disguising my TWC regalia by placing a respectable coat to mask where i actually work. I’m ashamed that i have earned a pitiful living for over a decade working in such a insipid environment. Ashamed of the waste of my talents of my potential in a intellectual wasteland. With tremendous apprehension and weariness I depart for work. The final act is to place my noise cancelling Bluetooth headphones in my ears. These headphones are connected to my mobile phone a essential item which is required to bring some colour to my day it assuages the anxiety the boredom of working in a warehouse. I require the music to disassociate my body my mind from the humdrum surroundings of my traversal to work. The music is a form of escape as i undertake my expedition towards the warehouse. With music i can lose myself in a fantasy world in a universe of my imagination. Having this music penetrate my consciousness allows me to briefly forget the drag greyness of my living and working background. Music thunders into my ears it acts as a opiate for my soul mitigating the agita of being forced into close proximity with other humans. After i plug the transcendental music into my ears I depart with weariness to my workhouse.

As i walk I become less cognisant of the exterior background i lose myself in my music in my inner contemplations. Never looking up at the sky or gazing far into the horizon. Rather i have these introspective thought patterns induced by the power of the music that inculcates my being with positive sensations. I leave my sad empty flat around 9.30 given me sufficient time to arrive promptly on time at work. It takes me around 30 minutes to traverse to work. In that period a heightened sense of anxiety permeates my body. I find the music is essential in relaxing me in pacifying the nervous energy that runs round my body as I prepare myself for a 8 hour protracted shift at TWC.

I exit my block of flats ignoring any neighbour I might come across. Averting my eyes from any stranger who passing me by. Leaving finally the greyed featureless aesthetically uninspiring block of flats to another meaningless day at work. The horizon in Mayberry as i walk is drenched in a greyed concrete visual backdrop. There’s no trees no green no lush picturesque panoramas just a sea of cars of concrete a visually overload of dulled colours. Mayberry is another mediocre deindustrialised English town where the populous are subjected to endemic poverty with unappealing menial labour. Mayberry is a place devoid of beauty of viability where dreams are slowly crushed by this oppressive town. That’s how i feel about Mayberry a town i longed to emigrate from. Instead i am trapped existing in purgatory working in low skilled poverty wages.

I travel to work everyday travelling the identical route to what feels like indentured servitude employment. It usually takes around half an hour walking at a leisurely pace. With every incremental footstep the anxiety heightens i can perceived my heartbeat racing faster. I have worked at this warehouse location for over a decade and still after all this time I have the same level of unbearable nervous tensions entering the TWC facilities. In fact as i have grown older and my disorder has become more severe the social disquietude has amplified. I trek on the footpath at side the traffic ignoring the exterior landscape. Being completely ignorant of passing strangers remaining submerged in my tiny insular interior world. Habitually staring into the distance being aloof to the urban landscape. Never glimpsing the skyline for a momentary impression of the wondrous beauty of nature. I walk and become lost in my interior universe this inner world gives me far greater serenity than the real tangible world which appears to me to be a icy inhuman habitat. The saunter continues as i enter the final section towards the ominous warehouse. My aggravation increases I perceive a palpable melancholic sadness as i see the gates as i take the final few step towards entering this forlorn place. This journey to the warehouse is always uneventful there’s no unexpected encounters no random exciting events. The same repetitive trudging path everyday rambling like a phantom never interacting with the ecosystem in any substantive way.

Then i arrive usually on time in my meticulous punctual manner. Going through the gates of the warehouse is analogous to a prisoner entering a prison. Everyday there’s a sensation of being confined like a prisoner in this life I’m unable to unshackle myself from. As i enter the facility i am filled with a gloom a darkness its the daily dirge of working here the fact I’m wasting my life working here. I enter the building clock on time refusing to engage with any of my coworkers in vapid small talk. The pang of sadness hits me now at the commencement of another protracted shift at TWC. I stroll in my dissociated stupor over to the locker removing my disguise my coat revealing my corporate TWC uniform. Then i become fully transformed into this mindless worker drone performing mindless tasks like a zombie.

Then it’s the beginning of another prosaic work day another 8 hour arduous shift in the suffocating dusty ambience of a clothing warehouse. I arrive inside the walls of the warehouse staying deep inside my head averting my gaze from any coworkers. In these final moments before the start the anxiety reaches the apex the nervous energy pulsates round my thin pasty body. Every footstep every insignificant social interaction increase the unease i have in existing in this uncertain arena. I adopt this robotic emotionless mask at work. Refraining from smiling or laughing or engaging in any long form eloquent conversation. Refusing to show a morsel of emotion or warmth. Exhibiting emotion laughing revealing my teeth being in anyway vulnerable would be painful exposing myself to a cruel world that i in my antisocial tendencies fear greatly. This is how i conduct myself at work rarely speaking to anybody barely acknowledging any other colleagues existence. When another human did attempt a conversation with me i responded laconically with a monosyllabic listless voice. Most of my workmates ignore me, i have become a invisible presence at work. Disappearing into the foreground disappearing into the inner space of my fantasy world not connecting with any of my workplace associates.

The activation of another shift starts at approximately 10 o’clock. I’m surrounded by my work colleagues with whom i feel no rapport with. Then the manager arrives declares the various workers their specific tasks for the day. The ambience of TWC is permeated with a aura of apathy of lifelessness in this moment. As the shift starts and i feel claustrophobic in the current situation i am incredibly self conscious. The paranoia feeling all of these eyes fixed on me judging me looking down on this freak. At the moment in close proximity to a number of colleagues i need desperately to breathe the oxygen of isolation. I would find it considerably more beneficial to my psychological well being to find a employment where i exist alone partitioned away from human contact. Instead i endure this daily ordeal of social anxiety of existing in uncomfortable workplace conditions. It’s a form of employment i have nothing but animus for the conditions for the measly pay.

After the commencement of the work shift all work colleagues are handed various tasks in this vast oppressive warehouse. When they call my name give me my specific assignment my heart is racing ferociously. I hope to be placed in relative isolation where i am not forced to converse with anybody. Usually i am assigned a task that provides me with limited interpersonal interaction. However in rare occurrences I’m put on a job where I’m in closed confinement with a number of my TWC cohorts. When in these occasions i am required to pick up clothing orders. In these instances my mind my body is consumed with bile with the worst effects of being socially maladroit. Eight hours of working in a suffocating panic attack inducing conditions having no air to breathe. Feeling so very congested working on top of each other feeling the drudgery the moil of these horrendous working conditions. In these occasions there’s no abatement from the relentless anxiety i am subjected to. It’s what I have to endure to survive in order to exist a basic subsistence existence to afford the essential amenities. There’s no other employment i can find where having only a limited set of interpersonal skills aren’t a detriment to securing that employment. It’s this form of employment i am accustomed to where its not a prerequisite to be verbally dexterous to be a functional employee. In the warehouse i can arrive at work shut down behave like a robot and survive escaping into a utopian fantasy world.

On other occurrences i am usually placed on a function which provides me with almost total isolation. A job where i am not forced into close quarters with my coworkers. I frequently work on a function in which I’m don’t a utter a solitary word or engage in a verbal exchange with anybody. On these days when i spend 8 hours hardly seeing another worker i experience a assuagement in the nervousness that usually pulsates round my veins. I can function living deeper in the valleys of my mind. The tasks i am assigned with by my superior is transferring clothes from boxes into the aisles ready to be picked. It’s boring laborious menial labour yet I have a degree of segregation from the rest of the workforce. When I’m allocated these tasks the day meanders along so fast. Sometimes i am so exiled never seeing a manger or coworker I listen to sublime music from my phone even if it’s contravenes the warehouse healthy and safety procedure. When i can listen to music i drift into a serene daydream forgetting momentary the tedium the vapidity of this humdrum workplace employment. Listening to transformative musical arrangements to the infinite beauty expressed through the medium of sound. I lose myself in the heavenly world of musical vibration I’m absorbed in the ethereal beauty of the music that reverberates into my consciousness. In these moments when I’m isolated enough to be free from the prying eyes of my officious superior to listen to music on my mobile device I fantasise about being this iconic successful musician forgetting who i am. Disregarding when I’m imbued with the beautiful music that I’m this lonely solitary man living without human contact. For a moment i forget where i am who I am dreaming of being a person that matters.

Days at work are painfully uneventful everyday seems to blend into another its like groundhog day living the same day endlessly until I eventually die. There’s nothing exciting or fantastical its a bland place to spend a large proportion of your waking hours existing in. Meeting the same blank faces ignoring these blank emptied out people who like myself have lost the lust had there humanity eroded by being employed in this place. It’s soul crushingly boring completing the same duplicate tasks each day feeling yourself becoming numb. In the workplace vicinity I view myself as a passenger in life watching the wheels of the world pass me by. In this employment with my personality i am vacant tourist only truly existing in another virtual landscape in my big blue dream where i am alive and fulfilled.

At TWC there’s little stimulation for my beleaguered soul. There’s the ambience that bleeds sadness and mundanity. The bland unimaginative warehouse decor the dulled coloured pallet of brown yellow and uninspiring grey. No visual stimulation that existed the imagination with a aesthetically pleasing colour scheme. It’s a oppressive environment that is intentionally and subconsciously meant to drain all the vitality away from you and make you feel like a number in a faceless corporate machine. I know in the depths of my damaged mind there’s nothing better out there for me no other vocation I’m capable of thriving in. Due to this disorder i am condemned to exist in this bottom run working poor warehouse labour.

Going by in a 8 hour shift feeling a empty vessel feeling the unease of the numbness that comes with prolonged employment in a warehouse. I ignore all my other colleagues declining to engage in basic small talk becoming almost mute at work. Never removing this mask of callousness finding immense comfort and security in putting on this affected persona of stoicism. I see another person close by and refrain from even non verbal communication. Evading eye contact even when a coworker attempts to start a dialogue i respond with my usually cold emotionless style. Then any further interaction is shut down and i can peacefully exist in this state of aloof detachment never partaking in verbose interactions with my TWC cohorts.

Finally breaks arrives when we take a half an hour lunch break. Unlike the normal socially functional humans I retreat for half an hour into my private safe space inside the toilet cubicle. This is my peculiar routine to never enter the intimidating coliseum of the canteen. That environment i find far too aggravating for my fragile defective personality. I require for the sake of my sanity this allotted period of solitude far removed from the agony the strains of surviving and working around other humans. I critically need this interval inside my personal chamber a fortress of solitude away from the glaring eyes of my fellow colleagues. The toilet cubicle acts as a sacrosanct alcove that provides with solace a stress release allowing to function in this onerous work setting. I need this intermission of privacy where i can breathe freely without the prying eyes of other humans. In this period i go inside a metaphorical isolation tank where my personal autonomy my privacy is restored for a brief interlude. Usually in this eccentric way of spending my free time i listen to music play on various apps on my phone. All these distractions helps to negate the stress levels i experience at work. Unfortunately due to me being engrossed in the music in the multitude of entertainment choices on my smart phone this half an hour lunch break goes by so fleetingly.

In this lunch break i abstain from eating anything preferring to deferring my nutritional nourishment until I’m safe in my flat. Eating at work would require myself to be confined in the canteen surrounded by people the agony of being in that stressful situation would be overwhelming for me. I have a brief period of seclusion away from people always at the same exact time in the identical cubicle. Declining to partake in eating during my allotted break time even it leaves me nutritionally malnourished for the reminder of the work day. It these strange atypical habits i adopt due to the severity of my disorder.

I return back to the moil to the grind of hours in the mind numbing brain labour. I continue the antisocial behaviour refraining from any social interaction. Averting my eyes when i walk by a colleague putting on this aura of coldness. I walk past colleagues with a thousand mile stare acting like a ghost ignoring everybody not even acknowledging anybody existence. It’s the way i comport myself at work or any exterior situation outside the security of my abode. On the outside in the real world I display no warmth no emotion its why i find myself friendless.

In my workplace arena is where i become so envious of other people. I look upon all the beautiful male and female heavenly creatures. They appear so alluring so very photogenic such a stark contrast to my physical imperfections. Occasionally i will take a momentary glimpse into a intoxicating blinding vision of these beguiling beauties. It’s a transitory moment where i fantasise about the unimaginable possibility of love of finding romance. A dream that will forever remain a illusion in my fantasy world instead of a attainable euphoric possibility. At work the majority of the employees are physically unappealing. Middle aged men with bodies coated in a tattoos. Bodies showing the effects of a poor diet with them consuming nutritional unhealthy foods high in fat and sugar. Most employees at TWC are distinctly working class having the stereotypical working class apprentice with a diet of a working class individual living paycheck to paycheck.

However at TWC there are deviations from the physical stereotypes of a warehouse worker. You see these enchanting visions of physical perfection. At work I gaze from a distance upon these ethereal beauties who appear to be angels with wonder with lust with deep sadness. Sadness that i will never break the ice and start a conversation with one of these statuesque beauties. I’m too socially inept too painfully shy to bridge the insurmountable divide and connect with a celestial beauty. At work i stare I fantasise of being in love one of these aesthetically enticing individuals. I see women with long flowing locks of auburn hair. With sparkling eyes that pierce into the depths of my soul without malice of artifice. They smile with exuberance revealing a immaculate collection of teeth that i look upon with envy. There are men who are employed here who have physiques of Greek gods. Human adonis’s with tanned skin and milky American style teeth that sparkle when they smile. These statuesque beauties that prowl the warehouse jungle that haven’t been subjected to the ravages of age that untarnished by the cynicism of growing old. I view theses exquisite beings and wonder what it use be like to engage in physical intimacy to be involved in a romantic tryst with blindly photogenic mortal beings. My mind is ingrained with these fantasies of having a lover a person that validates your existence that makes you feel human. I realise in the chasms of my mind i will never have these wondrous tangible human adventures of sex and love. I am damned to locked inside this box of alienation never to receive the treasure chest of human infatuation.

It’s how my days at work are spent having these protracted daydreams where my insatiable carnal desires are satisfied in my imagination looking at these cosmic wonders with lust. These effervescent beings of radiating beauty bring brief moments of light to my dreary monochrome life. Instead of embracing the light I retreat into my shell denying myself the improbable dream of love into my vacuum of a life. I ignore all these coruscating lights avert my gaze and put on this glacial mask. The agony of a conversation with a alluring worker is too overwhelming for my abnormal personality. I tell myself I’m too ugly to worthless to even be recognised or be seen as a attractive desirable adult. Instead of being vulnerable or wearing my heart on my sleeve I abstain from social intercourse at work becoming this invisible social leper hiding in my shell.

The last few hours go by at a sluggish pace. In the final hours before I’m released from this godforsaken place I’m habitually reviewing the time on my mobile device. It’s a obsessive habit I’ve developed working here wanting the 8 hours in this indentured servitude of a job to be over. Wanting and waiting patiently for 6 o’clock like an old man awaiting for the inevitable death. On occasion I squander long periods of time on the toilet enjoying the wondrous distraction of my smart phone. Getting away with doing no work feels like a small insignificant victory against this subhuman machine. The final minutes ensconced in the lavatory gives me a modicum of relief helping to briefly assuage my anxiety. At work in this soulless factory there is a absence of ambition no drive for myself and the plurality of employees who are trapped in the slave of the wage. It’s a place where i get paid to be bored out my gourd for 40 hours a week. Earning a paltry starvation wage just enough to pay the bills they pay just enough to return to the hive to make more honey.

In the final hour and minutes i wait impassively for the relief of being let out of the doors bars and windows of this haunted venue. I wait in the clocking off queue i am apathetic to my fellow workers declining to partake in a verbal dialogue just being putting on my idiosyncratic disassociated demeanour. I am a stranger to virtual all of my colleagues never uttering a single word towards many of my colleagues. The few workers i am on speaking terms with we share only meaningless superficial monosyllabic pleasantries. There’s no human connection to be found here i am weird alien being unable to bridge to divid and form a connection. Long ago in the embryonic stages of my tenure at TWC i was proficient enough to cultivate friendships here. Now at 33 my condition my asocial behaviour has deteriorated to the point friendships in the workplace milieu or outside in the world is unimaginable.

We queue up like lab rats waiting diligently to be released from our cages. Then the end finally arrives i clock off leaving the TWC premises and inhale the sweet oxygen of being liberated form the slog from the moil for another day. There is a abatement in the nervous disquietude i am no longer cooped up with people in a restricted interior venue. After the 8 hours is over i work home usually in the dark listening to celestial otherworldly music that mollifies all the toxicity that’s been inside me throughout the workday. Now outside of work i have a semblance of autonomy as I’m unbound from the chains of work. I travail the same meandering pathway i undertake each day home to the safety of my dark one bedroomed flat. Nothing exceptionally happens on my routine ordered joinery home. The streets of Mayberry are permeated with a ambience of melancholy and with urban decay. I pass the cobbled streets that are irradiated by the street lights that expose a array of empty shops bordered up bankrupted businesses. A assortment of takeaways litter this town ravaged with long term unemployment and endemic poverty. There’s a absence of vitality in this town no iridescent vivacious colours to illuminate the nightlife. This is a town bereft of natural beauty no trees no greenery to remind me of the infinite beauty of the natural world. No flowers are grown in this barren urban wasteland.

At night the appearance of this town becomes increasingly depressing with the haunted streets walking home under the skyline with all the constellations of the cosmos adorning the skyline the sadness hits me every single journey home. The short trek from the warehouse to my isolated abode i encounter a parade of concrete. No picturesque wonders of architecture or street illuminations its just the same mundane suburban streets. I come across dilapidated roads with potholes it’s emblematic of the decay the decrepitude of this fading once economically thriving English town. Every workday to work and back home again i face this sadness this urban sprawl of bordered up buildings of broken people living broken lives. To witness the decay every day effects my state of mind taking me deeper into prolonged states of forlornness. To be subjected to a ugly unappealing visual landscape everyday slowly seeps into my consciousness. All the lights of youth which once shined so brightly all the fervent passions have slowly faded into darkness with existing in this desolate town.

At night Mayberry appears to me like a gothic ghost town. I meander home in the shadows at night like a spirit wandering the desert searching for some humanity. There’s not a soul to be seen on my journey back to the sanctuary of my flat. I saunter past other houses see homes radiated with life with the warmth of family life flowing in these shelters of love. It’s a daily reminder of the life I’ve left behind the life of human contact of the kindness of family and friendship the life i will never get to experience.

I can sense myself getting nearer to the refuge of my rented residence with every incremental footstep. I am always on the edge never feeling safe on the outside in the uncertain uncontrolled terrain of the outside world. Wanting the control of my isolated dwelling where i am safe from the cold eyes of humans. Despite the crippling loneliness i endure in living sequestered from the rest of the human race residing alone is far more beneficial to my damaged personality who craves solitude like a opiate painkiller. I carry out the final stages of my 30 minute traversal home. From my eyesight i can discern the block of flats where i reside. My eyes are fixed on the ground i decline to observe the local horizon never looking upwards for fear of interacting with another sentient being and having a awkward stress inducing encounter. I dissociate my physical being from the world and collapse into myself into a interior imagined alternative reality. In the final steps I disappear mentally into the music and these intricate daydreams giving me a escape from reality as i perceive my anxiety increasing on the final minute of my journey home.

Now i have almost arrived at my destination and take the final steps towards my drab block of flats. Now I can feel my heart pounding almost to the point of having a panic attack as i am fearful of meeting a neighbour. I have refrained from meeting forming connections with the disparate collection of neighbours who live on my block. I have rarely even spoken to my neighbours mostly I ignore even on rare instances when we see each other, this antisocial behaviour is congruous with my condition. Becoming so paranoid as i enter my block and ascend the stairways to my top floor flat. Paranoid of having a brief painful interaction with a neighbour paranoid of what they think of me do they view me as a weird loner. Fortunately on this specific occasion i entered my block without bumping into a residence of my block of flats. I walk lethargically the final strides towards my flat door. The interior decor of my building is these dreary unimaginative arrangement of colours. The exterior and interior colour scheme has a negative effect on me it drains the life out of me. The optical environment of my abode has the same effect as the my work and home town landscape its a gloomy desolate listless ocular ambience that saps my spirit.

I enter my fortress my private domicile as i lock my flat door. Locking myself away from the tumult of the world until I’m contractually required to leave for work. I cloister myself from human contact until the next workday. As a i take of the manicures of my corporate uniform feeling emancipated from the servitude of working at TWC. My sense of self is restored in this cell of isolation in which i am free to be me to luxuriate in my own company. In this fortress I can indulge my pleasures my hobbies fo the rest of the day.

Firstly though i run a luxurious bath that relaxes my nerves. A lavender infused bath is drawn in which the bathroom is permeated with ethereal classical music taking to a higher plain of consciousness. The bath becomes a therapeutic relaxing habitual event that alleviates the toxic anxiety that i accrue during the day working in a noxious warehouse environment. The bath enables me to escape the moil the drudgery the agita of my life.

After the bath i can relax inhale the sweet nectar of solitude. I can coat my body in my casual attire. As i place these comfortable clothes on my skinny frame i no longer feel restrained by the TWC apparel which is a constant reminder of my place i the world. A reminder that I’m nothing that all i am is a useful worker drone serving robotically a amoral corporate system. For the rest of the evening and night i occupy my limited free time with these escapists pursuits of video games , sublime televisual programmes and music. These are the trifecta of leisure activities of the terminally lonely the socially isolated needing some elation to nullify the pain of having nobody in your life. I also listen to audiobooks to satiate my insatiable desire for storytelling through spoken prose. Closing my eyes laying flat on my bed as I’m taken on a journey into these imaginative fantasy worlds of the novel.

I stimulate my brain for hours with music with literary storytelling. When I have satisfied my intellectual appetite for auditory storytelling i gratify my need for escapism with virtual realities through the medium of stimulating video games. These immersive video games give me a visceral thrill give me moments of elation and exhilaration that’s sadly absent from my real life. In video game i play in these vast imaginative stories with characters with worlds I’m able to relate to. With engrossing linear stories and complex characters that I’m a be to connect with emotionally. All these beguiling ventures i enjoy in my hours of spare time after the toil of work are substitutes for my life which is devoid of any substantive interpersonal communication. I endure a measly subsistence life that needs artificial stimulations in which i live vicariously in these fantastical virtual reality universes. Rather than introspecting about decent into the abyss of emotional despair i tranquillise these negative emotions with these virtual pursuits.

When i eventually retire to bed after being absorbed in these entertainment hobbies i am filled with a pain a ache a piercing loneliness that infects my entire being. I would find more preferable to have direct tangible connection with real people instead of vicarious by proxy emotional connection. Achieving genuine intimacy with humans in the real world is a impossible dream, having friends being in love feelings exhilarated by life are experiences are beyond my impaired personality. Then after minutes of being hit with the aches the emptiness of my vapid life i fall into a deep subconscious slumber and find true escape from the horror of being schizoid. Then several hours later i awake from a sublime collection of dreams for another day in purgatory with the identical routine day after day until my enviable death. Performing the carbon copy tasks like a mindless robot. The noxious fumes of this insular survivalist existence is slowing poisoning me like carbon monoxide chocking my soul removing the joy the desire to even be alive.

The weekend my days off where i escape my personal lassitude and daily grind of warehouse work. It’s when i consume abundant amounts of alcohol to numb the pain of being so severally socially adrift. On my days off I remain ensconced in my private cloistered enclave. Spending days away from the torment of prolonged social interaction. Never speaking to anybody on my days off the curtains remain closed the doorbell the phone never gets answered. When on the rare occasion somebody attempts to contact me i refuse to answer the incoming communication. A stranger or relative knocks ardently on my door i act all quiet turn off the lights giving the illusion I’m not home. Never do I depart from my humble abode to socialise with other humans except in isolated instances when I urgently need to buy some food or need a much needed haircut. Mostly though i live as a hermit crab confined to the safety and solace of my isolated 1 bedroomed flat.

At home away from the coldness of people hidden away from the world in my private vacuum I discover a semblance of bliss. I am achieve a modicum of personal autonomy as i can be free to indulge my passions. At night i substitute the dearth of human company my voraciously consuming copious amounts of alcohol. Usually its 3 nights of pure drunken excess where there is genuine enjoyment in being a live by dulling my sensory apparatus. Getting intoxicated with alcohol i can escape the walls and iron cage of having this atypical socially detrimental personality type. Ignore for the night of inebriation the depression the loneliness that is my schizoid life. I achieve drunken ecstasy whilst partaking in engrossing emotionally absorbing music.

On sporadic occasions i will consume illicit substances. Once a month feeling the ebullient sensation of being high via the smoking of cannabis. This is a different narcotic than alcohol. With the inhalation of a cannabis joint i can explore my imagination have greater appreciation for great works of music and art. There are also special occasions when i digest psychedic psychocative drugs which allow me to temporarily escape the horror of my reality. On these rarefied instances on a wonderful Saturday afternoon away from the glaring eyes of other humans i eat a handful of Psilocybin magic mushrooms once a month. This is a memorable day of hallucinogenic bliss. Taking mushrooms lets me forget reality enabling me to immerse myself in extensive periods of psychedelic induced meditation. When I’m high I’m overwhelmed by these psychedelic visions that explode in my altered perception of reality. Devouring this consciousness altering plant i am transformed from my melancholic disposition into a state of heavenly bliss. Through the ameliorating effects of shrooms i achieve temporarily what Buddhist monks describe as nirvana. In these elongated hours of introspective meditation when high on magic mushrooms with a kaleidoscopic stream of colours floating through my mind I achieve a transient inner peace.

On these infrequent special occasions when i enjoy the full psychedelic effects of the magic mushroom i am spending up to 12 hours blissfully benefitting from this polychromatic psychedelic trip. I usually take the mushrooms early in the morning on a empty to stomach reducing the possibility of nausea. Then i wait patiently for an hour until the magic happens. Then when I perceive my perception of reality altering when i see these visual effects when i feel high like being stoned then I retreat to my bedroom. laying down on my comfortable bed and close my eyes listening to ethereal transcendental classical music. Which is a perfect accompaniment to the psychoactive substance effecting my consciousness. I am horizontal all day until the hallucinations have subsided. It’s a wondrous escapist indulgence that expunges all the noxious fumes i inhale during the working in a stifling workplace environment. Getting high enables my imagination to be untethered to be free. Spending all day removed from humanity devouring voraciously mind expanding drugs listening to great music watching high calibre entertainment makes being alive bearable.

Other times when I’m not getting wasted on alcohol or controlled narcotics i devote my precious free time to creative pursuits. I allocate all day reading exemplary literature and poetry. This gives my culturally malnourished brain some stimulation. Allowing my starved schizoid mind to perceive of a world beyond my insular detached reality. It gives me hope that there is light even for my maladroit personality. I also play my guitar writer poetry compose short stories sporadically. Expressing my inner thoughts in the medium of prose and verse writings helps to keep the dim light of hope flickering in my mind. To release the suicidal thoughts the black dog of depression in this emotional catharsis lets me feel alive for once. Its a salutary experience where i feel like a human instead of a worthless freak. Without the literature, the poetry, the music my various captive passions i would be a dead soul waiting for my inevitable physical termination. Listening to music imbues my love starved soul with the slim possibility of a more fulfilling existence.

In spite of these psychological valuable leisure endeavours which i undertake at the weekend i am still desperately unhappy with my pathetic nothing life. I desire so much more than existing as a human ghost. Wanting a life filled with love with charismatic friends with enduring memories being created. Instead i am rotting in isolation separated almost entirely from other people. My employment provides me with a degree of financial security but this boring vocation is slowly extinguishing all the coruscating colours in my soul that once shone so brightly. It’s a rut of a life with limited abatement in the boredom and misery with solitary excessive consumption of intoxicating mind altering drugs. I envisioned so much more from life than this austere dreary emotionless life. A harrowing life that frequently pushes me to the edges of suicide with the relentless loneliness I have to endure due to being afflicted with a personality disorder. Numbing the clinical depression rather than confronting expressing my pain i repress and have become this emotionless deformed alien who has disconnected from the real world.

Chapter 7 An Alien Trapped In A Cage

Confined condemned to exist in this cage this metaphorical cage of sequestration from the world. I am a alien creature hidden away in walls of isolation prevented due to my pathological condition from connecting with the humans. A condition a sickness of the mind that has damaged permanently my relationship to the human race. I am a alien forbidden due to my sickness to process normal human emotions. Love and friendship are strange fantastical unattainable human sensations. I recognise love i see tremendous examples of its power of the celestial beauty of love. Through art through observing human behaviour my understanding of love is illuminated. However due to being a alien freak I’m prohibited from receiving or dispensing love to other human beings. I have been condemned to be enclosed in this rusty cage of isolation for eternity. I will never leave this desolate habitat.

This abandoned cage where I have been cursed to remain a indefinite prisoner to never witness the glowing neon lights of life. It’s a dark gothic prison where my tortured alien soul is held captive. The walls of the cage echo haunted screams of my interminable loneliness of the pains of a dissociated life. The walls and bars of the cage run black with the tears with the sorrow of my emotionally crippled ravaged soul. Inside the cage there is no glimmer of light only shadows and gloomy tones. No luminous radiant colours shine into this cage of isolation. The cage is hidden behind layers of walls. No soul enters no light no life inside this forlorn dwelling. No human bothers to glimpse inside this blackened rusty cage. No human has the fortitude has the compassion to penetrate this cloistered fortress.

The cage where my alien soul dwells remains a barren empty habitat. It wasn’t created as a blackened rusted cage of hopeless endless solitude. The enclosure was once a shelter from the savagery of life on earth. It became a sanctuary of comfort from the coldness of my exterior environment. Outside of my fortress i was exposed i was vulnerable to humanities cruelty to a daily onslaught of callous human behaviour. Outside of my enclave I encountered a dearth of warmth. Friendship genuine human connection was lacking outside of my private kingdom. The bitter the chill i was confronted with took a devastating toll on my fragile alien spirit. I was exposed in the wilderness to the savagery of man to mans inhumanity to mans malicious nature. Hence I retreated from a callous human universe into a private withdrawn landscape.

My private universe I created for myself was a utopian domain where i was able to separate my body from the suffering the real world subjected me to. It was my isolation chamber a venue of emotional regression a metaphorical womb. I freed myself from the brutal realities of being a human being and imagined a perfect alternative reality. Profound human connections were actualised in this virtual reality of my vast imagination. Impossible fantastical essential human experiences like love and friendship were plausible in this fantasy world. I developed this impenetrable fortress over a number of years to shelter my body completely from any human contact. This walled private kingdom was a way of detaching myself from the cruel world. It enabled myself to put up a veil a mask from my inner turmoil from my private demons.

Having this secluded abode enabled me to hide the pain to numb the pain to push the misery of my alienation deep inside the chasms of my subconscious. In my private acropolis i could sustain myself keeping a appropriate distance from human life. Outside the walls and windows i gazed upon the town from my home. The sparkling coruscating lights of human activity the glorious transcendental vision of life the visual feast that was visible inside my dark alien fortress. My intense desire to be alone for the comfort blanket of the cell had taken away from all that beauty all that effervescent human activity. Existing in this realm was supposed to elevate me to a higher state of consciousness all it did was plunge me into states of emotional despair. This physical and spiritual partition from humanity had slowly poisoned my damaged mind. I was chocking on the noxious fumes of this confined pathetic life.

My becoming anonymous to the entire human species i had incrementally deteriorated into this dead being existing in the dead zone. My once pure idealistic mind had been transformed into this dark grotesque alien. A social freak who lived on the outskirts of society. Living through a limited black and white spectrum of experiences. Never exposing or participating in the salient human endeavours that gave being a living human it’s meaning its purpose. The vast gamut of human sensations i was denied from enjoying i was living exiled from all that beauty all that joy. Living apart from the tangible world of people, subsisting in a this dingy rotten fort with only a illusionary inner world for comfort. Over the years the fortification of my private habitat had metamorphosis into a cage of eternal darkness. It became a self manufactured prison that i was precluded from ever escaping. There would be no escape from this encased tomb from this dungeon of social exclusion.

My deformed alien brain had for a long time been ignorant of how my fortress had slowly been perverted into a shadowy cage of nothingness. My forts corruption into a prison had coincided with my metamorphosis from a weird odd introvert into a broken deformed alien creature. A alien being unable to coexist with these strange human creatures and their odd eccentric habits. All the intrinsic human qualities characteristics of being a full fledged human being i was missing in my abnormal alien personality. For many years i was blind to how damaged how peculiar i was to other humans. Then i had a moment of devastating illumination of how the others perceived me. How severely impaired my cancerous alien personality had become.

My life through the years had descended into dullsville into a pattern of meaningless rigid routine. A cycle of solitude of work and home no deviation from this meticulously observed routine that maintained my sanity that pacified the anxiety I encountered in interacting with the humans. Living so impoverished so bereft of human contact having no purpose no real reason to exist other than observe a endless cycle of surviving. Gradually through time i began to see myself as subhuman as i couldn’t exhibit any of the intrinsic human qualities. I viewed myself as a alien creature visiting form another planet. A sentient alien being possessing human skin desperately attempting to appear human. Endeavouring to convey human emotions. In reality i am not of this world i am a strange alien who doesn’t possess typical human personality attributes. I am incapable of feeling our exuding any sincere emotion.

My mind is not human its a brain a consciousness from a distant planet who my a cosmic miracle has been transported on earths lush expansive terrain. I am precluded from participating in essential human experiences cursed to be an outsider yearning to feel human to feel a profound connection with any human spirit. My alien body and soul lives in the shadowlands of my private isolation. Instead of being integrated into the centre of society I remain trapped on the outside with only the tranquillising drug of my private island for solace. I want fiercely to feel something to receive the transformational drug of direct human connection. Want to feel the glorious elevating human emotion of love of being loved. Want my alienated body to be transformed into a ecstatic state of pure being. Want all these negative emotions emanating throughout my consciousness to evaporate and to have a miraculous personality transfiguration. In this transfiguration i will be elevated into euphoric states with me receiving the spiritual bliss of love. These fundamental human experiences are so elusive to me they are only possible in the fantasy realm. I am prohibited because of my dysfunctional alien personality from engaging in these beautiful life affirming human experiences.

I wonder the earth alone observing humanity as a passenger as a tourist. Life is so very finite and precious my prosaic life is passing me by. I am a virtual stranger to all the human i have cursory interactions with never cultivating profound deep connections. I am a visitor a otherworldly being not meant to find love to have a purpose on this beautiful planet. I’m too broken too defective to function as a useful citizen of the human race. I exist locked away from the shimmering transformative beauty of humanity locked inside my impenetrable fortress. I live as a alone misanthrope cast out by my defective unappealing personality into this cage into a private hell without colour without the blinding lights of humanities beauty.

I admire the human race from afar from my secluded habitat with envious eyes. I watch human being in love creating families based on the rich foundation of love. These strange humans that live contentedly and surrounded by these emotional beneficial relationships. Creating a life of meaning a spiritually enlightened coexistence. They have complications in these intimate claustrophobic interconnections. They expose their emotions allow themselves to be vulnerable to live without boundaries without the walls of severe emotional repression. It’s a wondrous life of iridescent glorious memories that my sad individualised life is lacking in. They drink from the chalice of friendship the humans create these elaborate networks of human connections. That provide layers upon layers of joy to their life on earth. My colourless inanimate life is bereft of the enchanting intoxicating narcotic of human friendship. I am on the outside a refugee starving for nourishment wanting somebody to connect with. Desperate to drink form the luscious vessel of humanity finding only the endless desert of alienation. There’s no soul here in the arid desert vista you thirst you fantasise about one day breaking the drought the famine of isolation.

I remain on the outside for eternity languishing like a gollum creature devoid of any vigour. This is my curse to be condemned to a half life eclipsed in darkness. A life in the depths of the hollow of endless suffering. Days consumed with resented with envy at the humans in find bliss on this fertile planet. Resentment at those who actualise the nirvana of love whilst I waste away in the abyss. I waste away the opportunity the infinite ocean of possibilities being handed the gift of life has bestowed me. A ugly soul cursed to exist his duration on earth in spiritual impoverishment staving for the light for the coruscating glow of humanities warmth.

I glimpse at the deformed reflection in the mirror inside my cage of solitary confinement. I no longer see a photogenic angelic human being capable of love capable of receiving or giving joy to people. I see a grotesque aberrant alien creature with hideous features. The deformed visage is indicative of a life without human contact where the colour the vitality slowly fades away as the repulsive creature replaces a once promising sweet young man. I’m gnarled on the inside with acid bitterness eating away at me. I’m am unable to exhibit normal human emotions unable to convey warmth unable to relate to people beyond a the superficial shallow level.

I have endured this sad life which has left me physically and psychologically ravaged. Once I was this shy precocious beacon of vast possibilities. This young person who was a flower waiting to bloom. Now I’m a ugly grey wilted barely living alien freak. All the humanity all the beauty has abandoned my body and soul. Now there’s only emptiness the cage my condition. Wanting to extricate myself from this abysmal place to discover a tiny slither of affirmation of my humanity. I had dreams allusions of the wondrous possibilities that one day i could get to experience. Now I’m left to consume the bitter rotten strawberries of my cursed alien existence as oppose to devouring the succulent fruits of life.

Chapter 6 I Have No Friends

All of my adult life maintaining long term meaningful friendships was immensely difficult. When my personality disorder emerged in my late teens the negative anti social traits made friendships increasingly arduous to develop or preserve. Even as a child friendships were elusive special gifts i had to treasure. My circle of friends were long standing acquaintances from primary school. My shy introverted personality prevented me from having a abundance of close companions. This small tribe of comrades i had a connection with who I actually enjoyed their company. However as my condition escalated as it began to adversely affect the quality of my social life. These beautiful friendships that cultivated throughout my childhood were affected by my dysfunctional antisocial behaviour.

From the ages of 18 till 21 i still resided at my parents home. In this strange transitional period before I achieve complete autonomy of my personal space. The friendships of James, Steve and Jonathan my closest dearest confidents were sustained in spite of my asocial symptoms and the physical difference between us. With me commencing my tenure at TWC and my friends persisting with the dream of higher education hoping to better themselves in economically prosperous professions. In this phase of my life we socialised infrequently usually once a month. Mainly going out consuming excessive quantities of alcohol having this ebullient night of socialising like any typical young adult would. These sporadic social gatherings was the only time that i felt like a human being that for a monetary time on a Saturday night of consciousness altering inebriation i felt normal. Around my friends I appeared normal i exhibited a ordinary range of emotions i could engage in extensive conversations without appearing peculiar. Unlike when i was surrounded by a sea of strangers when i would sink into my shell behaving like a robot a mute alien being dissociated from the world of humans. That self conscious anxiety dissipated when i was enclosed in the warmth of my clique of friends. This cycle of having infrequent nights out rarely seeing my friends for weeks at a time continued until I moved out. When i emancipated myself from the manacles of family our relationships began to deteriorate.

In the early adult years I crafted a collection of glorious superlative memories with my school day chums. We had holiday abroad in temperate tourist destinations we would frequently go on camping excursions in picturesque regions of Britain. The warmth the joy of these memories these would soon become fading vivid memories of friendships lost, broken friendships that haunts like a ghost torturing my damaged soul.

Even before i relocated out of the drudgery the boredom of my parents residence my longstanding acquaintances had become strained. Strained due to my neglectful uncaring nature. Meeting increasingly intermittently whereas before at secondary school we would socialise outside of the school environment almost everyday. Now i was detached isolated from this once intimate group of friends. Never taking the bold initiative to arrange a meeting to fraternise and reaffirm our bond. Around the time i resided in my solitary flat i had become disinclined to adhere to my friends requests to participate in effervescent nights out. My disorder had exacerbated the already acute social anxiety i had been plagued since i was a precocious teenager. I would acquiesce to vociferous requests to leave the security of my cell of isolation and go out once a month when my body could tolerate the anxiety that flowed throughout my body on these social gatherings. Our friendships had devolved into hedonistic nights in bars and night clubs nothing else no meeting during the week. The once poignant intimacy we had as idealistic adolescents had faded away. I realised we had less and less in common as i increasingly saw myself as a stranger as a peripheral figure within the clique of companions.

The isolation the alienation exacerbated when I moved out living in my sequestered ivory tower. The move gave me the opportunity to remove myself away from the small pockets of human contact. Before i migrated to my current residence I felt myself within my minuscule social circle drifting into states of malaise feeling disconnected dissociated from these individuals i had known my entire life. Not having anything substantial in common with these charismatic extroverts becoming passive inarticulate in conversations having nothing interesting to say. I perceived myself in proximity with close acquaintances blanking out feeling numb wanting desperately to be alone. Not being able to connect or exhibit a normal range of emotions. Displaying this aberrant behaviour with a increasingly emotional flat emotional cold external identity. I had a intense carving to be alone to separate myself from people. The desire the proclivity for platonic connections for any form of human interaction to be touched to be loved to be physically or emotionally intimate had drastically diminished in my early twenties. Indeed i fantasied a life where i could cut the cord of friendship to exist in perennial isolation. Having friends no longer give me any pleasure it had become a source of anxiety of internal emotional torment being forced to fraternise with people. I desired to severe the bonds of friendship to liberate myself completely from the claustrophobic oppression of human attachment. I envisioned a perfect utopian existence where i lived as a hermit.

As I grew into being a adult my emotions became increasingly suppressed. Instead of seeking qualified help by confining with a therapist or divulging my deepest darkest internal struggles to a confidant i retreated from the world. I had a illusionary idea that by secluding myself from society by regressing away from a gregarious life into a solitary hermit life this would alleviate my melancholic disposition.

Moving to a top floor flat was a perfect opportunity to enact my dream of disassociation from all of humanity. Being alone gave me the freedom i yearned for allowing to have longer periods without any human contact. It also enabled me to neglect the old acquaintances from school which i had no desire no aptitude to preserve. From now on in my icy cold flat of insulation i would never see my childhood chums again. They would knock on the door ring the bell ask my parents where I was how i was handling my new living quarters. They made profuse request for months after I’d made the drastic decision to quarantine myself to see them again. Just like when my parents called when Jonathan, James or Steve visited my rented property i hide from them not making a singular sound acting as a quiet as a mouse they finally got the message. The phone calls contained unabated never would i respond to their requests to reopen the line of communication. I had the brutal cold decision to extricate these people from my life indefinitely. No longer regarding these people as psychologically beneficial associations but vexatious appendages that i needed to remove from my life. Affectively ghosted my friends blanked them out in my myopic existence. These were individuals i had shared numerous wondrous teenage memories with. The ghosting had been successful and eventually they acquiesced to my yearning to be free from their company. My disorder though had escalated to the point i had become markedly impaired in my ability to relate to people. A life removed from people i posited was a idyllic transcendental way to live where the agonises of stress and depression would be mitigated by the lack of human contact.

I entered a life that i hoped would be salutary for my fragile introverted introspective personality type. Entering a life that would satiate my proclivity for the solitude. Now for the first time commencing a realm of a friendless life. My personal life was completely devoid of human contact of friends of romantic interests. Once a month if that i would have a superficial fleeting interaction with a family member that was the extent of my social life. At work I’d barely speak to anybody i would respond laconically in one word monosyllabic answers. Never would i get involved in elaborate discursive discussions with my work colleagues. I kept myself to myself maintained a detached state at work never opening myself up to the pain of friendship or any possibilities of intimacy. Rarely speaking refusing to laugh of showing a morsel of joy. At work i shut myself down removing the traces of warmth and humanity in my exterior persona. Becoming submerged in this endless loop of home and work with nothing meaningful or spontaneous in between.

My personal life had devolved into a vacuum of activity. Ceasing to socialise the only time i ventured outside to brave the anxiety of meeting strangers was to purchase vital household items such as food. With being schizoid i prohibited myself from going to bars and clubs getting drunk and high outside my private enclave. I had become a sad lonely figure who due to the hindrances of this disorder greatly preferred segregating myself from people. For a short period of time the novelty of this hermit life was pure bliss. I found immense solace in being a exiled alien creature existing without the human ideals of friendship. Having all this personal time this sovereignty over my life for the first time. Initially for the first few months i didn’t miss the friendships i had abandoned.

Not being burdened with human company allowed to indulge my passion for video games. I had forgotten how exciting how immersive video games had become. Reconnecting with a childhood passion of video games in my mid twenties. Video game virtual reality stimulation was a substitute pursuit that compensated for the absence of human stimulation. Video games were comparable to reading of great world of literature where i became absorbed in a virtual reality linear story telling experience. In alternative realities where you could live vicariously with these alter ego characters. Video games was an analogous to my propensity to indulge in a vast inner fantasy life. Being alone also gave me the freedom to reconnect with literature with exemplary musical creations. Having no witness nobody around for a monetary period was liberating being able to be uninhibited in my own private kingdom. I fell in love again with music with books with these private intellectual hobbies.

The new found lust for childhood passions for video games for these solitary domestic preoccupations was all in order to placate the vast emptiness of my new schizoid life. For the first initial months of living this private existence I felt euphoric like being high. Then gradually the novelty began to fade away. The depression the interminable loneliness returned with a vengeance. By removing my entire physical being from mainstream society from the possibility of love or platonic relationships i had sunk deeper intro a black hole of depression. I ascertained that by secluding myself from people it would give me a morsel of solace instead the depression the self loathing has remained with me. Now i had the acid regret at my aberrant behaviour in which I neglected and took for granted important people in my life. I laminated the loss of future memories that were sacrificed by this misguided decision to abandon human company in favour of a more tranquil private life. Instead of finding some serenity I had regressed into a emotionally and spiritually impoverished subsistence which lacked any proposed any direction. I drifted though the universe disassociated from all sentient beings not connecting with any living organism. Through the ravages of time i became numb to my pain to my inner torments i was silently enduring. Rather than confront the depression i numbed the wretched pain. Containing to adopt a detrimental defence mechanism by assuming a stoic robotic persona around people in order to shield myself from being emotionally vulnerable. This rut of a lifestyle this internal malaise was slowly killing like noxious fumes slowly poisoning my lungs.

I wished to reconcile with my friends i stupidly discarded I wanted another chance at the ecstasy of friendship. I would frequently peruse images of my ex friends on Facebook. The regret the sadness of losing beautiful from my life never to glimpse their faces again still haunts me today. Tears would emanate down my face when I contemplated the various friendships that disappeared from my life. The images the memories shown on the multitude of photographs on facebook. I could have revelled in these exultant memories the holidays the laughs the nights out i lost through having this disorder. This damaging disorder that’s left me alone surviving like a alien not fully part of the human race. That there are these fundamental life affirming experiences i would never participate in that I’m a bystander in life a ghost at the feast. I subsisted this way for years surviving as a nothing man existing on the outskirts of life. Searching hopelessly for another friendship to dull the pain of isolation. Hoping that a miracle would occur that I would unearth a precious gem of human kinship. I needed a friend somebody to break the walls to break the grind of being me.

Years rolled by with me exciting surviving in the darkness hoping to make a connection with another soul. To find the warm emphatic embrace of human comradeship. That miracle finally occurred i was presented with a second chance at adult friendship. I experienced a resurrection of humanity in my prosaic life. It happened in my mundane humdrum dead end warehouse job. This was the only venue where it was feasible i could reawaken from the hermit cocoon towards the iridescent glow of human connection. The majority of my tenure at TWC i ignored nearly all the employees at the warehouse. I am this weird emotionless robot drone who rarely engages in loquacious conversations. To most people at TWC i come across as a cold aloof detached figure. In spite of all these negative idiosyncrasies I cultivated a human acquaintanceship. I had forgotten how transformative it is to find a friends to witness a organic friendship blossom. I forged a friendship with 2 TWC workers within a short period of each other.

The first workplace friendship I made that rekindled my dormant social life was with nick jones. We were on a identical shift pattern. Spending days weeks months in case proximity to each other. Forming over a sustained duration of time a intimate beautiful friendship. Nick was one of the few people at TWC i could rightfully call a friend. Making friends was a insurmountable laborious task due to my inept nonexistent social skills. Somehow we overcome the hinderances of my asocial personality to make a poignant close connection. He was a normal man in his mid twenties with short brown hair. He often appeared unshaven rarely presenting a clean shaven look. He was of medium height with a slight athletic build that could be deceived as skinny. Unlike myself nick was a extrovert and proficient in all social situations. He was socially adroit and successful in the company of the opposite sex. I admired his verbal lucidity his effortless charm around attractive women. He brought me out of my own private cocoon into the wider world. The self confidence was one again restored the alienation the self loathing was subsided by this friendship. He being this normal functional person who had no apparent abnormal habits or personality quirks.

Our rapport our verbal communications was mostly superficial exchanges. Often dialoging about various television programs we watched our music we shared a mutual affinity for. Our interactions may have been surface level jovial small talk despite that I felt tremendous psychological benefit in having nick as a friend. The years of solitude of complete ostracism from society had lead me down a dark lonely desert highway of depression a sense of utter hopelessness finding myself slowly descending into suicidal desolation. Life at work in the intermittent years when I literally had no friends nobody to talk to was a dreary lifeless ambience. The atmosphere was transformed into a convivial friendly warehouse environment from my viewpoint. I was truly liberated from the shell of crippling shyness into a accepted loved workplace colleague all down to being bestowed from the gods a precious kindred spirit. The communication we shared may have seemed frivolous surface level conversations but there was a deeper subconscious meaning to our jocular interactions. We were communicating a platonic love with our emotional stunted and emotional repressed masculine tendencies. Never being able to delineate our deepest feelings to another man. Never having the verbal acuity for engaging in vulnerable revealing exchanges.

This relationship flourished over time it gave me a renewed lustre a renewed vigour a sense of purpose in being alive. It was a bond that developed concurrently with another integral friendship. I forged a beautiful friendship with a TWC colleague called Philip Robinson who was a part time employee. A comradeship that was formed almost in synchronicity with my bond with nick. Philip unlike nick worked part time using the warehouse employment wages to supplement his higher education aspirations. He had dreams to earn a engineer degree to transcend his vocational prospects out of the mundanity of low paying low skilled warehouse employment. Philip was another typical young adult of medium height and medium build. Even in his early twenties he had a receding hair line. He unlike myself was a naturally warm effervescent personality who had a eccentric distinctive laugh which almost sounded like a nervous tick. He was loved respected by all of the TWC colleagues due to his natural extroverted amicable persona. The alliance was a instantaneous connection there was a spark a cosmic kinship a platonic bond that was formed between us.

Philip like nick gave me the freedom to be myself in public to escape the confines of my ivory tower. The 2 indispensable friendships alleviated the alienation giving me some much needed validation making me feel like a human being instead of a grotesque alien creature. It was at work in this closed empty environment where i transformed i reemerged as a person instead of a living ghost trapped in the limbo of my disorder. At home in my personal space there was soul crushing emptiness there was a complete void of human connection or a morsel of meaningful human contact. Now by some freak cosmic miracle I discovered two beings who accepted me who actually enjoyed my company. Initially our friendship existed solely in the domain of the workplace locale. Where we would laugh and talk profusely we nullified the boredom the drudgery of TWC with humorous buoyant conversations. Having this heavenly sensation of friendship after years of the wilderness of solitude of social exile was almost a spiritual transcendent awakening. It was like to being transformed from a world of black and white emotional numbness towards a kaleidoscopic range of emotions. I was reintroduced to these lush vibrant human experiences. The darkness the melancholy of a friendless life had evaporated for a time.

Slowly as the friendships developed we began having rendezvous outside of the warehouse. Meeting in our various homes in pubs in clubs and restaurants. We started to socialise habitually going on these young adult nights out. Consuming excessive quantities of alcohol over the course of a sublime night of fraternising with my work place comrades. Being invited out with nick and Philip i felt accepted as a person that for a transitory time i felt alive. I was introduced to a larger circle of acquaintances. Individuals who were friends of nick and Philip with their respective tribe of companions joining us on sublime nights of heavenly public intoxication. Introduced into this sea of humanity into this ocean of colurful vivacious characters. The social anxiety the inadequate verbal skills still remained despite by rekindled self confidence. The inability to find any form of emotional intimacy still stained my dysfunctional personality. I found immense self affirmation in this new gregarious social calendar the alcohol fuelled nights out the drunken parties at my humble abode. Where music and games were played to a thunderous volume into the early hours. In this sacred trinity of close companions we were creating these enduring memories of a abiding collection of friendships. We ventured out to effusive nights in Mayberry town centre at least once a month. These were majestic occasions where all the alienation all the piss and shit of being schizoid melted away as i was enamoured with the warmth of human contact being accepted as a person by a select group of individuals.

In having these platonic emotionally connective friendships i had temporarily abated my negative schizoid symptoms. In the absence of the company of my amicable chums the sense of alienation the robotic aloof exterior reappeared. In close proximity to strangers i once again collapsed into a ghost figure into my own private fantasy universe. Despite me maintaining cultivating a handful of intimate connections i remained a prisoner of this deeply inhabiting personality disorder. I couldn’t cast away the fences the iron bars of being schizoid. I was trapped forever a tiny insular world that had a fleeting injection of colour of a brief window of possibility of a life more enriching than I was currently existing in.

I still had unfulfilled dreams that i was precluded from exploring due to my severe limitations of being schizoid. I yearned to unbind myself from the walls of this soul crushing noxious warehouse work that was poisoning my body and soul. Wanting desperately a future vocation more financially rewarding a vocation that satiated my intellectual desires. Yet being hindered by this deliberating disorder and self loathing I never pursued these tantalising career prospects. Still despite the grimness of my employment in my mid twenties i benefited from the ameliorating oxygen of human companionship. This oxygen for the soul that was bestowed upon me had given me a modicum of hope for the future. It gave me the allusion that i could escape the humdrum employment escape one day my desolate town. It provide me a ray of light that maybe one day i could make a significant contribution to the world despite my acute character flaws.

The intimate friendship i cultivated with Nick and Philip remained a tight bond. However when I was introduced into their larger circle of mates i struggled to connect to craft convivial relationships with their multitude of drinking companions. Forming emotional connections with individuals outside the sanctuary of my two only real friends was a laborious insurmountable undertaking. Nick and Philip were my witnesses to the world to myself my 2 kindred spirits. They were 2 lifelines that kept me alive that bestowed me a semblance of normality. In their radiating protective company i no longer perceived myself as a freakish outcast with a deformed appearance and personality but a person.

The friendship continued to develop of a number of years. Our co-association reached its zenith when we embarked on a exciting holiday excursion in a foreign city. For somebody such as me accustomed to a private secluded life with sustained periods of social isolation this was a daunting dangerous adventure. To have a concentrated stretch in close proximity with my friends was stressful. It would be a severe test of my limitations would my personality peculiarities or character peccadilloes be unmasked on this holiday. At this moment in my adulthood I was cognisant of my personality disorder of the various symptoms that had continued to be a detriment to the quality of my life. I had managed through diligence to maintain a mask of normality never fully exposing myself to Nick and Philip. The miracle of these dual friendships had empowered me to become less social maladroit. Despite the beneficiary i was bequeathed with these two miraculous friendships I still endured depression kept my private life my damaged personality a secret. Kept secret my preceding clique of friends that I neglected and ghosted. Never divulged my ambiguous sexuality never confined to Nick and Philip my various eccentric tendencies. I refused to impart my long arduous struggle with suicidal depression i kept this pain hidden in the shadowlands of my consciousness. Kept my eccentric habit of my intricate fantasy world where i vicariously lived through a charismatic alternative version of myself. Never would I dare transmit these undisclosed torments of my maladroit defective personality type even to my closest compadres.

This vacation my first vacation for a number of years was to be a rigorous test to our friendship to my ability to function in mainstream society. I attempted to appear a normal ordinary citizen around Nick and Philip. Despite my best efforts i was regarded as a eccentric odd ball with a piercing sardonic wit. I got enormous emotional validation from inducing laughter from eliciting joy out of my friends mouths. Before this enriching connection my life had taken on a insipid directionless path. I had become a nothing person a phantom existing only in a alternative virtual landscape of my imagination. When we embarked on this heterosexual week long excursion to Prague it would be a transitory moment where my body was transported into a state of celestial bliss. It was a rare coruscating twinkling of pure happiness being surrounded with charming company of my charismatic duo. On this jaunt we digested alcohol with a insatiable appetite we danced we laughed we explored the beautiful gothic architecture of Prague. There was a myriad of majestic memories that have penetrated my memory that will never leave me. Memories that now fill my heart with heart wrenching sadness. To many young extroverted social animals this would be a commonplace weeklong holiday to a European capital. My life wasn’t normal it was a life deprived of human contact of enchanting holidays abroad. Week long vacations had to be treasured this was rare occurrence in my sad empty social calendar. I had to cherish this brief moment in time when i was genuinely happy when i was a functional member of the human race.

Every night we’d partake in exorbitant volume of alcohol. Drinking shots of absinthe experiencing the blissful instantaneous airy sensation that pulsates in your bloodstream from a single shot of the green fairy. In Prague absinthe is a celebrated alcoholic spirit. To consume a single shot is a intense overpowering sensation that subverts your sensory perception instantly. Getting immediately smashed from absinthe was one of the seminal moments of this heavenly holiday where I felt truly liberated from the shackles of my deeply introverted spirit. The days were permeated with serene sight seeing as we traversed the various wonders of this picturesque city. Nights were interfused with alcohol and high quality luxurious cuisine. We devoured the food and alcohol like ravenous beasts. The devouring of the culinary feast and alcohol nourished my body and soul which had been bereft of quality prolonged exciting nights out in a captivating setting. The holiday sadly ended after 7 days and nights of enduring coruscating memories .

I came home to my grim lacklustre home town. With dreary rainy weather and a bleak urban landscape permeated with images of grey. A town where beauty where colour and vitality was absent. I returned to a life of permanent mundanity a survival subsistence existence. Surviving on poverty wages in a soulless workplace setting. Life in TWC in Mayberry was such a stark contrast to the bliss to the sublimity the nirvana i experienced holidaying in Prague. This glaring contrast of the aesthetic beauty of a vibrant bustling European city and my lifeless artless hometown caused me to sink once agin into a severe bout of depression.

When i was inflicted with almost suicidal depression i began to perceive a dramatic shift in my personality in my behaviour. The symptoms of my disorder became increasingly prominent in my life. The depression the alienation the need to retreat further and further away from direct tangible human contact. Found myself yearning aching for the tranquility drug of isolation. Wanting to push the few friends i had away. I was replicating the same damaging corrosive pattern of neglecting important beneficial friendships. The need for a socially quarantined was so acute it was analogous to a alcoholics dependency on alcohol. My alcohol my narcotic that soothed the pain the anxiety was to be separated from any human contact to extricate all intimate relationships from my life. Dark changes were occurring in me in how in how i related to the world.

I began to detach from society sinking into a big blue dreamworld for comfort for alleviation from the self loathing. The level of social anxiety I experienced was intensifying as a consequence of my deteriorating mental state. Instead of resolving these issues seeking the therapeutic help of a qualified professional or confiding in a confidant I collapsed in on myself. In stress inducing social situations i adopted a stoic emotionally glacial persona. My communication acuity suffered at work around people becoming increasingly verbally unexpressive. The genesis of my condition began in my late teens it had metastasised throughout my twenties. Now the disorder was gravely affecting my lifestyle. Before this even being impaired with these symptoms of being schizoid i maintained a semblance of a healthy adjusted life. I had a sparse social life but managed through onerous conditions to formulate human connections. Now all the hope all the possibility was vanishing as i began my final decent into full blown hermitage.

The friendships i had managed despite my maladroit social manners were now in the fervent of my disorder being seriously affected. I perpetuated the pattern of neglect of ghosting close intimate acquaintances. I reiterated the detrimental cycle of anti social behaviour which had previously lead me to lose all my cherished childhood mates. I started with rejecting vociferous invitations for nights out with sublime drunken social intercourse and fraternising with attractive women. Slowly i retired to my secluded safe space in my private enclave. Going out meeting with friends and strangers became in the apex of being schizoid so physically and psychologically onerous I preferred to be confined in my isolation chamber far removed from the iridescent warmth of human friendship. My refusal to accept social invitations had gotten to the point i made a conscious decision to amputate these two momentous individuals from my world. I wanted to end these workplace platonic connections that through some divine miracle had been created in my life. I saw in value no purpose no joy in having any friends. Friendship in the sickness of my condition began to associate intimacy with anxiety. Achieving intimacy sharing a lifetime of sublime memories was antithetical to my asocial personality type. I desired to carve out a adulthood devoid of human contact.

Still Nick and Philip doggedly persisted in maintaining contact in requesting my company in days out on holidays on evenings in Mayberry luxuriating in each other’s company. I vehemently repudiated their persistent invites until they would eventually get the message that i no longer desired their friendship. Around Nick and Philip I ceased being this open humorous warm acquaintance i adopted this callous indifferent aura becoming increasingly detached in their company. I was slowly pushing them away in a effort to shield myself from the pain i was retreating a defence mechanism i have done my entire adult life. In my damaged mind I identified emotional intimacy with torment and anguish. From this mindset i carried on a cycle of disregarding ignoring the minuscule circle of friends completely. The relationships eventually fell apart we refrained from engaging in any genuine substantive communication. Nick and Philip would move on to more prosperous stimulating vocations. I was left behind trapped in the mundanity the emptiness of working in a dead end job. We barely spoke even when they worked the last few months at TWC. As they relocated to more desirable workplace settings our correspondence ceased we became ghosts mere memories in each other’s lives.

It’s been 2 or 3 years since i have even glimpsed Nick or Philip. In that short time we have lost contact never again will we utter a solitary word to each other. Our once beautiful glorious alliance has died a tragic death. At the time when i drifted away untethered myself from the few remaining friendships it seemed a opportunity to actualise a prefect solitary serene life for myself. To dissociate myself absolutely from the world of humans into a private fantasy universe where only I existed. A world free from the agita of visceral human interaction. A virtual world where i would be precluded from other people’s worries. I envisioned this blissful nirvana where I existed in a isolated vacuum. In this world i would compensate the dearth of human stimulation with virtual stimulation. Filling the void with video games with reading the great works of literature with award wining entertainment.

This new reality i anticipated was a vision of heaven a pure existence in which i would be emancipated from the shackles of human relationships. Initially like when I extracted myself from my immediate family from my childhood chums I felt a enormous sense of relief. A unburdened sensation that lifted my spirits as is as free to live the life i always desired. However as the euphoria of this new situation dissipated and i settled into the dull routine of the unaccompanied emotional disassociated life. Rather then being imbued with joy or serenity my soul was crushed with the endless boredom of this life. The days weeks spent with me myself and i for company nobody to converse with, only having a handful of brusque monosyllabic conversations with distant work associates became so depressing. I returned to the pathetic ghost of a life I had before i connected with nick and Philip. Retuned to the interminable loneliness the repressed pain you experience at being this ostracised from other humans.

I became progressively emotional shut down adopting a cold robotic visage in public. Whilst at the same time having all these repressed dark sadness that i was unable to divulge to another soul. My cries of anguish were silent screams which nobody hears or cared about my descent into the black abyss of nothingness i was plummeting towards. My life became a ghost trapped in this self manufactured purgatory. No love no friendship no human being to comfort my silent emotional screams. I had sequestered myself away from all of humanity in the hope of a slither of serenity in the sequestration I discovered greater levels of melancholy that permeated my consciousness. The friendships I selfishly abandoned were now just fading memories. Memories of a joyous ebullient period of my life. Now in the void all I had in my mind were fading reminisces images of the beauty of friendship. I gazed upon imagery of relinquished friendships on facebook as I glimpsed these images my soul was saturated with despondency. The acid regret at all the vivacious future memories i missed out on. The tender beautiful friendships which were squandered because of being afflicted with this pernicious personality disorder. I could of had a rich life with colourful warm people could of had love if I wasn’t condemned to this prison of exile from meaningful human relationships.

The memories that are evoked as i inspect the images of past fronds haunt me. They are visual illustration of my broken dreams shattered illusions. Images of childhood of vacationing with my once closest cohorts. They are daily reminders of the man i used to be the man i could have developed into. This warm friendly young soul who enjoyed being alive who basked in the coruscating warmth of human company. Now these photographs i briefly inspect remind me of the effusive life I could have lived if i was normal. A vigorous life lived without walls with a abundance of love of enriching friends. Now all i have is this crippled personality this emptiness of a phantom limbo life. All i am now is a alien creature enclosed in a cage unable to break free and interest with other humans. A alien confined in this rusty cage in a metaphorical prison of a personality disorder with emotional torture that will never be articulated to another living soul

Chapter 5 Strangers Whom I’m Related To

My emancipation from the suffocation of cohabiting with my parents give me the privacy the personal autonomy i craved. I had this overwhelming desire to be free to be exiled from the vexation of family life wanting to exist away from the agita of human contact. This yearning was fulfilled with the tumultuous decision to live on my own to break the chains the bondage of family. Family which I had grown apart from. The warmth had gone, family who i had no connection no affinity towards.

This solitary removed life with reduced daily anxiety was initially glorious to be untethered from the misery of residing with other humans. By the time I was 21 my illness my atypical idiosyncrasies had were cemented in my identity with the behavioural abnormalities the dearth of human interaction the lack of desire to have friends to have a passionate loving partner. I had become accustomed to living as a hermit a life exiled in the wilderness in the desert without love. Nobody to talk too no witness no human bonds only distant superficial associations.

In my early twenties i had relinquished dreams of a intellectually enriching vocation i had discarded dreams of a life beyond the walls of Mayberry. Effectively given up on myself on exploring the luscious fruits of a richly lived life. Abandoning illusions of escaping the grey the concrete jungle the hollowed out buildings of my desolate town to escape to expand my horizons. Never traversing to lush exotic cities experiencing intoxicating enriching cultures. I wanted to these electrifying adventures to broaden my horizons so intensely. I’m precluded from partaking in these escapades due to the social impediments of being schizoid. To meet new people to live a nomadic life would be too onerous for my atypical personality. I had become a prison trapped inside the walls the iron cages of a encumbering condition.

At 21 i had become habituated to the drudgery of the warehouse existence. The boredom the endless loop of home and work nothing else no socialising no fraternising with any other human became my routine. Moving out becoming unshackling myself from my awful family establishing my own private enclave while my personality flaws exacerbated further. Being removed from the daily conversations sequestering myself from any human contact. It facilitated my negative traits to become more prevalent as i regressed further inwards intro fantasy. There was freedom a initial glorious novelty in being absent from the daily angst of family in being alone. At first it was a wondrous joyous relief to severe the cords of family. Spending days all alone with my own company was pure nirvana. Over time the novelty of elongated solitude wore away and I noticed the worsening of my antisocial tendencies. To not have to converse with anybody spending your entire personal life ensconced in my dank flat only escalated my abnormal idiosyncrasies.

The dwelling I existed in allowed me to detach completely from family. The already strained relations deteriorated into a estranged association. Declining to ever visit my family home it was always my parents usually my mother who tried to retain a degree of contact. Having no desire to call my parents to make a arrangement to ever darken their door with my presence. I by this time held such antipathy such disdain for my odious family why would I want to spend time with them. In the early years of living alone we would rendezvous once a month if that. When i was cordially invited to a Sunday dinner i grudgingly accepted my mother’s invitation. Being in the company of my family was never a happy serene occasion there was no connection no warmth I shared with these people I happened to be related to. Spending a few hours in my mother and fathers company felt like purgatory. Feeling confined in this claustrophobic uncommunicative environment. In my parents presence I yearned to be free to be alone it wasn’t a convivial harmonious atmosphere in my parents home. Spending a measly few hours once a month in my old abode was pure hell it felt like purgatory. The stress was all consuming i craved the sweet oxygen of isolation. There were times days when I genuinely missed the company of my distant estranged family. Then i would acquiesce to my mothers request to visit on a Sunday for a meal. I was reminded of the claustrophobia the dysphoria I endured cohabiting in this haunted place. A home devoid of any warmth of love with superficial facile conversations never engaging in our deepest emotions. We had brief laconic verbal exchanges lacking emotion or human affection.

Even if my solitary habitation had escalated my depression had advanced my personality disorder symptoms being confined in their home was a reminder of why I left why i eschewed their company why i have isolated myself from the toxicity of family. I left home because i urgently needed to liberate my fragile self form this cage of nothing towards a serene locale. A domicile where i could breathe where i had complete autonomy over my personal life. Eating when i desired being able to listen to music to go to bed of my own volition. Despite the freedom I had in my new living quarters there was this overwhelming sadness at my antagonistic icy relationship with my relatives. Once there was warmth emotional resonance between us vivid colourful memories of happiness we shared. Of course I would never promulgate my antipathy my contempt directly to my parents i put on this facade of empathy. A pretence of compassion when on the inside i felt nothing but disdain for these people. As the years strolled by the visits became increasingly sporadic. Visits from my family only occurred at Christmas and on birthdays were i obeyed the social protocol of attending family functions to keep the facade of loving my family. At least attempting to maintain a semblance of a relationship by visiting them a couple time a year. These visits were part of the family social contract which I felt obliged to attend they helped to preserve a serviceable impersonal association with my family

The interconnection the bond i had with my mother in the disappointment of my adulthood had disintegrated into a impersonal emotionless barely functional relationship. Once there was intimacy there was love now there existed walls of dissociation. In the rare moments i spent protracted time with my mother i maintained the guise of caring when on the inside their was a dearth of warmth. In adulthood our affinity had further corroded in part to my inability to preserve and cultivate emotional bonds with humans. We were once so close, in my infancy she was a pivotal person in my life. My mother protected me pushed and encouraged me to flourish as a person. Her warmth her infinite love empowered me to deal with the agony of being so extremely introverted. Having this comfort blanket of boundless compassion gave me the courage to overcome my interpersonal shortcomings.

I can recollect being 5 hating myself despising how I couldn’t relate to other children. Despising my lack of verbal dexterity my failure in forging friendships from an early age with my childhood peers. My mothers compassion her maternal love furnished me with hope with self confidence it empowered me to fulfil my intellectual potential. I believed this maternal nourishment deterred and minimised my flaws. In my opinion if I didn’t receive this love this healthy flow of emotional gratification the worse traits of my disorder would have been evident earlier rather than in my early adulthood. However this union which was once so strong had degraded over time. As a teenager i detached myself from my mother. I became less communicative less open with my inner concerns and withdraw completely into my shell into the womb of my room. This detachment continued as it relocated into my private 1 bedroomed flat as our relationship disintegrated further into a broken interconnection. To the point when i moved out we had virtually no contact with each other. Moving out was the final step towards being almost ostracised from each other. Never speaking never socialising other than a few times year when i adhered to social protocol and attended tedious Christmas and birthday celebrations. Making no effort whatsoever to reanimate the dead connection with my mother.

It was my mother who had the resolve the diligence to preserve a modicum of human contact with me. In according to my antisocial character i rejected and neglected her. Refusing to call fabricating up excuses why i couldn’t come round for dinner. I perpetuated the detrimental pattern of social isolationism for my blood relations. Finding the idea of solitude much more preferable than being subjected to protracted periods of human contact. Even if that person was my mother my creator so i not only ignored my mother vociferous requests i lied repeatedly. Constructing elaborate lies to preclude myself from attending or meeting with my family more frequently. I would invariably say i was going out with my friends inventing scenarios to keep the distance keeping me from having the ordeal of spending a day with people who were essentially strangers. Despite all this reclusive hermit like behaviour i cared for my family but found it so arduous so emotionally taxing interacting with these people. That to eschew requests from mainly my mother and spend days off in heavenly isolation was a far more serene enriching manner to spend my days off from work. I repeatedly conjured up whoppers to protect myself to dissociate to exile myself from this family is was born into.

There were numerous instances where i refrained from even answering the door. I would cowardly cower and hide turning off all the lights in my aesthetically unappealing flat turn off all electrical appliances that emitted a noise that might indicate i was home. All in a effort to give the illusion i was out. It was a cowardly peculiar idiosyncratic behaviour that was indicative of my decent into a severe impairing personality disorder. Being in my cell of isolation in a ivory tower sequestered from the rest of humanity in my early twenties when i disengaged absolutely from my family. I disengaged refrained from any anxiety inducing social situation where there was the threat of pain of emotional intimacy. Mother was a symbol of pain of depression and sadness just seeing her looking on photographs made my heart well up with sadness. When we did meet up usually in my flat we had nothing substantive to say to each other we had through the sands of time become strangers. All those memories of childhood all the pain all the joy we shared counted for nothing as i felt so cold to here. I had a dead numbed feeling meeting her no hugs no kisses just icy non verbal expressions.

As my condition grew more severe the longer i spent in solitary confinement my behaviour my ability to sustain human connections fell precipitously. My mother tried to reestablish a rapport with me to reconnect to reform a intimate caring mother and son bond. I no longer desired or needed any contact any love from mother. Had these dreams these fantasies of being permanently estranged from my odious family. Having these chains of family severed was a blissful sick wish.

The blond I had with my father had slowly eroded since I was a toddler. We were never that close due to our introverted insular personalities that contributed to the fissure in our relationship. My father wasn’t a naturally extroverted warm effusive person he like me lacked the adeptness to readily convey his emotions. A cold difficult soul who did love me but found the onerous task of articulating his innermost feelings almost insurmountable. From my flaws my fathers outward aloof persona we struggled to formulate a healthy emotionally literate kinship. From early childhood when I commenced my primary school education when my glaring social decencies were evident to the teachers to my guardians. The early primary school trauma of being branded abnormal was the genesis of our relationship falling apart. My dissociated bond with my mother was comparable with how my bond with father degraded as my disorder became more pernicious as i became a adult. Where the symptoms of being schizoid started to manifest between the ages of 16 till 21. When I changed when I removed myself from society from people the division from my father grew. We became strangers rarely visiting each other. It was horrendous when i lived in close proximity to my father the communication was non existent. Then when I relocated several miles away from my parents home to achieve some liberation from the claustrophobia of living with my austere father. This valiant decision only exacerbated the gargantuan chasm between us. We were strangers connected through close genetic bond is all we were no warmth no feeling just a functional relationship. I had a numb sadness a sorrow at how this pivotal individual became lost from me. I was starving for love from my father screaming on the inside desperately needing that validation that never existed with us. There was a mutual connection blockage where nothing meaningful was conveyed between us. This was the single family relationship that gave me the greatest degree of anguish of profound sadness. The coldness the outwards perception i received from my father of not caring for me drove me to the depths of despair towards the abyss. I wanted love wanted hugs from my father. I got a blank void of nothing where love died of black emptiness pervaded by soul where i thirsted for the sweet oxygen of love. My father and i found it impossible to engage in deep meaningful interactions. Apart from Christmas and birthday functions we never got together. Christmas and birthday events which i was duly obliged to attend to maintain a veneer of love for my family. When i did attend these turgid stressful events the conversation was lacking in any vitality. Saying very little apart from vacuous small talk whilst internally having this waterfall of suppressed emotions. Desperate to be unburdened i kept these feelings trapped finding it impossible to articulate a modicum of emotion to either parent.

In the decade I’ve been living alone my father has visited on a handful of times. Even taken he was accompanied by my mother who definitely had the initiative to visit my gloomy flat. He would never pay a visit to my humble abode of his own volition like i would never call round my parents residence. Our physical interactions were limited to rendezvous at Christmas or maybe my birthday that was the extent to our visitations. I had given up the illusion we could foster a beneficial adult connection. The feeling died as I progressed into my twenties stopped caring externally or internally losing all empathy for my father. Till it became a flickering dim candle waiting to be extinguished. Our inflexible withdrawn personalities were destined to have a unhealthy frosty bond. Never did i have to hide never had to decline a phone call never had to cowardly pretend i wasn’t home because the visitations from my father never happened. Never had to attempt the elaborate masquerade of pretending i wasn’t home. If there is any prevailing feeling with my father its a melancholic sensation at the absence of a affectionate ameliorating paternal bond that left me irrevocably scarred from this defective relationship.

As i became this exiled hermit ghost like figure in the lives of my parents. As I slowly receded into the background removing my physical presence from their lives. Till i reduced our frosty kinship to a couple of obligated social events a year. My rapport with my younger sister was just as disconnected and estranged. I reconnected briefly with my sister at Christmas and that was all. There was a dearth of contact with her for the rest of the year. No elongated effusive phone calls no convivial social network communications. She became for 364 days a year a phantom figure in my pathetic life. The emotional beneficial attachment we once had dissipated. He were strangers aloof distant for each other. She was once a pivotal salutary presence in my infancy. A person who allowed me to flourish to cast off my emotional and social impediments in my childhood. As cited previously our kinship was a intimate bond which was vital in assisting the development of my stunted cognitive proficiency. I laboured in forging friendships at primary i was largely unsuccessful in constructing due in part to me having limited verbal skills. It was my sister who facilitated the improvement in my development with her emphatic extroverted effervescent personality. We were more than mere brother and sister we were for until the alienation of my adolescence best friends.

As we grew older into the hormonal maelstrom of puberty we gradually drifted apart from each other. The intimacy the affinity the bond had disappeared it would never return to what it was in my formative childhood years. As the years rolled by we became increasingly withdrawn from each other. I regressed into insulated states of isolation from my family from the entire human race. I ceased ventilating my thoughts with my sister we refrained from visiting each other. As I moved out and untethered myself from family life migrating to my fortress of solitude in my private 1 bedroom flat. We had a cycle of seeing each other once a year at Christmas exchanging gifts at this family mandated gathering. I lost this once indispensable bond as the torment of living with this brutal personality disorder took its harmful effect on me. There is sadness there is infinite oceans of pain over the erosion of this once beautiful kinship. Now she is another soul i cant reconnect with another spirit I have discarded through my interpersonal impotence. Another beautiful creature i am precluded fromfully loving or be loved like a brother and sister.

When i contemplate all these years of solitude sequestered away from my family i realise all of these beautiful memories i have missed out on. My sister has become a happy married mother of 2 wonderful daughters. I am a virtual stranger to my nieces a stranger to my sisters husband. It’s the detrimental consequences of living a segregated cursed life. I see my sister and her colourful exuberant family at Christmas to them I’m this weird alien being who is only tangentially associated with them visiting once a year. There’s no emotional linkage no rapport I’m remain a distant stranger who they regard as a weird creature who offers them shallow gifts as compensation for the lack of intimacy. I am unable to express outward displays of love or any emotion so offering Christmas presents is the only facile manner of expressing my love. To them i am a weird uncle who lives this subterranean life hidden away from the warm embrace of family denied the therapeutic power of humanities love.

Christmas time with my family in my childhood formative years was a euphoric experience. It was a glorious yearly celebration of family of love of superfluous consumption of chocolate and being bestowed with a bounty of gifts. Christmas a period of overwhelming excitement where you imagined what assortment of presents you would be lavished from your generous relatives. Now in the purgatory of my adulthood in the affliction of my disorder all that joy all that excitement has disappeared. Now i dread the holiday season with each passing day as Christmas Day approaches nearer the anxiety intensifies the nausea the anguish for this one day. This singular intense day of protracted social contact with a family who ive become this reclusive stranger. The thought of this horrendous day fills my head with such disquietude. It builds throughout the entire month of December until it reaches a crescendo on Christmas Eve. The stress becomes so unhealthy that it ruins the entire month. I cant concentrate cant appreciate any simple pleasures the agita precludes me from enjoying anything. Pleasures such as being alone in the sanctuary of my flat consuming alcohol with a insatiable appetite. That escapist pleasure of being intoxicated is tarnished by the heightened anxiety of Christmas Day. What Christmas Day emphasises in my damaged mind is how i despise spending any sustained time interacting with family members. It’s a elucidating day that reveals how i have nothing in common with these people that the empathy for the family has subsided into a numb indifference. This ceaseless anxiety i have to endure over Christmas Day and the weeks leading up to Christmas started in my early twenties. It commenced when I moved out and severed myself from the minutia of family life. With each passing year existing in self enforced solitary confinement the anxiety gets worse as i insulate myself from the human race. The paralysing dread that permeates by entire consciousness all for a day of celebration. Nothing about this day is celebratory or pleasurable or gives me a modicum of enjoyment.

It starts with the purchasing of gifts that imbues my entire being with distress never knowing what to purchase for my many relatives. Having to adhere to social protocol to buy gifts for essential strangers for individuals i am apathetic towards. Then the actual day is where the real agony commences. Getting up uncharacteristically early by my mum having to pretend i actually care for these people. Putting on this mask this outward veneer of compassion opening up the presents whilst presenting this illusion of excitement. It’s where the heightened anxiety starts with the traditional ceremonial revealing of the gifts that distances estranged relatives have bestowed on me. The gift opening is the first step in a day of relentless nervousness that never abates at any moment on this day of perpetual torment. Then gradually over the course of the day various family members arrive with distant and immediate relatives. Then in these moments of sustained social intercourse my personality defects are laid bare as my inadequacy in social situations. My maladroit interpersonal skills are exposed even to individuals i have been acquainted with my entire life. I spend all year diligently avoiding these extremely uncomfortable social situations. Hiding from the world living a subterranean life absconding from human contact. Now to adhere to tradition I’m forced into close proximity with family i despise. I try to present a visage of normalcy but I am much of a outcast too defective to appear as a normal functional person.

The conversations in these family gatherings are often uncomfortable and staid. I responded listlessly to their effusive questions on my life i end their verbose conversations with my characteristic laconic blunt conversational style. Often on Christmas hours will pass without me uttering a single word i prefer to remain mute and passive in the festivities. Never taking part or engaging in the jovial celebrations. The heightened tension that never abates at any point throughout this tormented day inside I’m begging to be released from this hell and be returned to the bliss of solitude. Begging the universe to let this psychological ordeal of a day end. It’s just one day but I’m reminded of the myriad of reasons why i avoid people why being around strangers or familiar relatives is unbearable torment. I yearn for the sweet serenity of being alone in my uninspiring aesthetically ugly flat.

My perfect Christmas might seem sad and pathetic to any normal human but I’m a social leper a broken person. The perfect Christmas is me spending the entire day in isolation getting extremely inebriated watching superlative television. No family no awkward discussions. Just me myself and i emancipated from the lead weight of family.

The nightmare of Christmas is a horrific one off occasion. However there are other acutely awful contractually obligated family gatherings. The worst kind of mandated family event is the wedding. Nothing fills my fragile mind with sheer panic inducing dread than the the knowledge i will have to attend a wedding. You cant decline a invitation you have to put on the mask pretend to care for a insignificant family member who’s taking the momentous decisions to get married. The worst wedding ceremony i was forced to attend was my sisters wedding. This was a person I’m supposed to have a deep bond with a childhood of shared experiences. Now there’s no emotion no feeling. I have become apathetic to my sisters happiness longing to be alone permanently partitioned from her. Spending all day in protracted social interplay was a horrifying ordeal. Again on occasions such as these my asocial tendencies are exposed when I’m forced to socialise with a multitude of relatives. Devoting an entire day to conversing with tedious relatives getting drunk around family members distant and immediate. Days like this are pure torture i know I’m supposed to be imbued with happiness with jubilation at this glorious sacred celebration of love. In reality there is nothing inside of me but this vast ocean of nothingness throughout the various events of the wedding day.

A wedding day is almost unbearable suffering for my fragile damaged body and soul. Putting on the traditional wedding attire the suit the tie that is a requisite for attaining a traditional religious wedding ceremony. Trying to appear normal, presentable, trying hopelessly to be this smart urbane polished adult. When in reality I appear as this odd cold emotional flat loser. On this day my glaring personality flaws are laid bare to my family I have nowhere to hide. I choke on the noxious fumes of intensely stressful social situations wanting badly to insulate myself to a place of private existence. A place where i am able to survive without this acidic unending anxiety. The entire wedding experience from commencement to the last dance lasts for approximately 12 hours of pure torture. Often I remain verbally inarticulate declining to display the appropriate range of emotions that’s in accordance with a wedding that’s celebrates the glorification of love.

I ache for solitude it’s like a drug a opiate that allows my soul to breathe. The wedding day and other elongated family functions are revelatory experiences of how much i despise other people how I’ve become this misanthropic loner. That a life existing surrounded by people in perpetuity is untenable for my maladroit self. The wedding reveals my wounds my defects it unveils the lack of emotional proficiency to show a modicum of joy or love for my sister.

In my twenties in my longing for solace I have gradually separated myself form my mother and father. Becoming over time incredible secretive protecting my emotional vulnerabilities never exposing my repressed emotions to any family member. I retain this stoic robotic visage which enables me to hide the sadness the depression. The mask never slips never letting myself appear vulnerable. Throughout my twenties i have been critically infected with long term depression. My relatives I assume are completely ignorant of the depths of my internal suffering. I lie pathologically to shelter myself to keep a vast distance between myself and other humans. The lies the robotic persona began as a defence mechanism for being a repressed introvert now its metastasised into this character trait of a personality disorder. In the depths of my disorder my insatiable need for solitude my family are to me a useless appendage that needs to be extricated from my life. I have been largely successful in my pursuit of alienating myself from the sanctum of family life. There is sadness in feeling this way in my segregation from family there is streams of misery in being so alone for people care for me who love me profusely. I don’t want to be this way so damaged so broken. I want the love the well of kindness that family gives you. However the pain of family of tangible human contact is too excruciating to bare. I have to alienate myself as a means of surviving with this pernicious condition. Alienate myself so visits from family become increasingly sporadic. The absence of family the absence of family the absence of human connection encapsulates what’s its like being schizoid. That’s i have nobody to share my life with to feel connected to.