Chapter 4 From The Light Into The Darkness

From the inception of my adulthood my personality my behaviour began to alter. I started to exhibit increasingly detrimental behaviours which were indicators of a severe personality disorder. At the time i was unaware i was suffering from the negative symptoms of being schizoid. For myself I had completely normalised these eccentric habits. The proclivity to exile myself from friends from family i didn’t regard as symptomatic of a disorder. This behaviour i ascertained was a result of enduring long term untreated depression that first germinated in my adolescence. Shielding myself from people becoming more detached numbing the pain never allowing myself to be emotionally vulnerable. A method of protecting my fragile psyche from humanities cruelty. Even though i realised I was drastically altering in how comported myself i never perceived that i was suffering from a undiagnosed affliction. Conscious that i was a fragile shy introvert who needed the comfort the shelter of elongated spells of isolation.

After i concluded my secondary education and commenced my sixth form studies i was transforming and devolving into a more asocial personality. All of my closest most intimate essential friends were studying in a alternative college from where i was situated. Becoming dissociated from my friends rarely seeing them. Maybe socialising with my circle of school friends once a month if that where’d we would go out out and consume lavish quantities of alcohol.

The removal from my intimate tribe of friends to a unfamiliar college setting where I barely knew any of my fellow students, which exposed my social limitations. I began to be cognisant of how socially maladroit I was that i had no aptitude for forming substantial long term intimate relationships. Having no capacity for connecting with strangers with fellow peers emotionally, regarding myself as a remote aloof cold individual who displayed a limited expanse of emotions.

I was a loner never speaking to my fellow students being obsessively myopically committed to my own studies. Barely saying anything other than vacuous superficial comments. Never commenting on anything other than conversation that was pertinent to our studies. Never engaging in deep penetrating emotive verbal exchanges. At sixth form college i was left alone without the sanctuary of my clique of companions. I was exposed to how damaged my defective personality was. This is when i begin to envision the sad alienated life i was destined to live. That i would forever struggle to formulate new friends. That dreams of falling in love would remain unfulfilled due to my emotionally inarticulacy around humans I was enamoured with. As my personality continued to regress I was increasingly awkward less proficient in being able to convey an interest in people who i was attracted to. Indeed in early adulthood my flaws my behavioural issues became solidified in my character. Instead of seeking help for my depression for my personality defects i never broke the negative pattern. Never would I evolve into a normal functional being who adapted into society.

My life after school carried on with the same anti social lifestyle I exhibited at secondary school. Having a sparse almost non existent social calendar. Where i had sporadic nights out with the few friends i miraculously maintained. At sixth form was when I commenced my detrimental tendency of negating these long term friendships. I took my friends for granted never keeping contact never calling them going weeks months without seeing them. My friends somehow enjoyed my company took pleasure in me despite my glaring interpersonal flaws. Hanging on to a meagre circle of acquaintances appearing normal giving a veneer of normality to my life. The friendships that were sustained in early adulthood alleviated the anxiety they mitigated my detachment from mainstream society. These indispensable relationships helped to defer the worst characteristics of my personality disorder. Going on holiday going fishing playing football having wondrous nights out imbued my damaged soul with feelings of normality. They temporarily abated the symptoms of my condition until later in my adult life.

Still though i had elongated periods of solitude with an absence of human contact. Nothing but the studies the glorious liberation of music and literature. I had fantastical dreams of a life away from this bleak desolate town. These imaginings of my illustrious future still seemed a tangible reality. Dreams that would be actualised through higher education. Higher education would give me a route towards intellectual and financial accomplishment. I retained this fantasy that i could bloom from a painfully shy introvert into a beautiful flower of pure human charisma. That i would metamorphosis into this idealised person that existed in my imagination. That i could display all the positive personal attributes i currently lacked.

As I progressed from adolescence into the brutality of adulthood this dreams became increasingly improbable. Instead of progressing instead of evolving becoming more gregarious i regressed as a person. Retreating further inwards to states of inertia never venturing outside of the sanctuary of my shell. Never divulging about my emotions my clinical depression my interminable loneliness. Incapable of articulating myself fully to other humans I gradually became this emotionless withdrawn shutdown person. Surviving the depression the social alienation by numbing the pain by never talking about myself to another living sentient being. Drifting further away from a world of kindness empathy and compassion towards a cold dead life.

It was around this time when i cultivated a more extensive elaborate inner private fantasy world. This atypical personality trait was fostered as a means of supplementing my love starved soul. The lack of human contact that i had in the real tangible world meant i had to create a vast inner landscape where i had love where i felt alive. Living in a fantasy world through imagined alternative idealised version of myself where i had validation as a person. From my earliest childhood memory i had this abnormal propensity to fantasise to create vast virtual worlds inside my own head. Having a wild imagination where I created elaborate vast inner adventures to compensate for the boredom for the dearth of human contact. Now as a adult this illusionary universe became increasingly complex. It was a inner world that i began to live vicariously in as the roots of my pernicious personality disorder adversely affected my life. When I deteriorated in my social skills when I became increasingly verbally laconic in unfamiliar stressful social situations when i existed in protracted periods of social exclusion this propensity to fantasise became more prominent in my psyche. It was a idealised world in which grandiose dreams were fulfilled where i found love travelled met interesting effervescent people. I was a successful musician a charismatic captivating person. In my inner fantasy world i created this alter ego this perfect alternative version of myself.

My life my visions of the future started to fall apart this envision of my colourful future became delusions that would never happen. A life of love of friendship of traversing outside my home town. I desperately hanged onto these far fetched dreams it give a hope a reason to be alive that i could perhaps achieve my lofty ambitions. This fantasy world allowed myself to function giving me oxygen from the toil and moil of being schizoid. In reality i became ensconced in a tiny world devoid of human interaction.

I noticed this abnormal propensity to fantasise becoming more prevalent in me when i was approximately 17. This was a period when this disorder developed harming the quality of my early adulthood. At school before this disorder symptoms became more pronounced i was a hardworking precocious student. My education my studies was the focal point of my life. I was obsessively devoted to my studies to the detriment of my social life at times. I ascertained i couldn’t extricate myself from Mayberry from the humdrum the tedium the suffocating atmosphere on my limited personality alone. I was fully aware the pathway to freedom was going to be attained via academic excellence. Earning a place at a prestigious university through rigorous relentless hard work. I maintained a strong work ethic in my studies focusing diligently on achieving my lofty goals in the area of higher education. Always studying always trying my absolute hardest to fulfill my intellectual potential.

At 16 I achieved impressive grades earning mostly A’s and a few B’s in my GCSES. I had taken the first significant steps towards academic self actualisation. Not yet deciding what specific subjects i was going to study at university. The drive to better myself to emancipate myself from the melancholy of Mayberry stayed with me until the age of 17. When i commenced my sixth form education I carried on the similar pattern of learning of being a consummate student. Working as rigorous as possible pushing myself to the depths of my intellectual ability in the various fields i was studying in. Then my behaviour my compartment began to alter around the age of 17. I noticed a significant alteration in my personality and a deprecation in my drive my ambition to learn. The defects the flaws in my character become more severe under the weight of schizoid personality disorder. A negative consequence of this disorder is the loss of energy of ambition. My drive my lust to learn rapidly vanished as i lost all purpose. The handwork the insatiable appetite for knowledge for self improvement fell apart. I began gliding by in my studies just putting in the basic requirements as oppose to exerting myself to scholarly excellence.

This rapid decent was a result of two factors. Firstly i was now suffering under the injurious symptoms of this damaging personality disorder. Secondly I continued to endure untreated undiagnosed long term depression. Instead this time time the depression had metastasised into feeling of worthlessness. The depression along with the antisocial disorder was markedly affecting the quality of my life affecting my future vocational ambitions. My grades in sixth form fall away in a serious way due to the lack of ambition i had. I lacked the drive the desire to learn that’s a prerequisite for achieving access to a university education. The subjects the education failed to excite to inflame my intellectual curiosity anymore. I become a truant falling to attend my classes taking days even weeks off just staying at home pretending to be ill. On other occasions i would lethargically stroll around town on my own not feeling ill not feeling anything. Hiding the reality i was rarely attending classes from my parents. Pretending to venture to college when i was spending my day away from my studies playing truant. Wandering aimlessly around Mayberry staying away from my academic pursuits which just now lacked all meaning.

I was adrift in the darkness of my unresolved personal demons. I was lost searching for help for the light of humanity as my disorder was eclipsing all the hope as my soul became submerged in twilight. It was a dark time a period i would never fully recover from. Never again would i regain my unquenchable passion for knowledge for art for the sciences. Lost forever my love of music of literature. Ceased reading poetry novels ceased the playing of the guitar which previously had given me such joy such ecstasy. The avenues of pleasure were closing the possibilities the hopes for the future were crumbling into dust. My grandiose aspirations became a mirage become pure fantasy.

The idea of university education was now a impossible reality. I was collapsing in on myself descending into a acute paralysing depression. Into a state of complete inertia where i was walling myself from the world living a secluded ostracised life. There was this potential this intellect that was being squandered by me. The desired had been vanquished from my being never to return. The depression the failure to leave this dreary town would haunt me forever. The scars of this formative period would stain my consciousness I’d never regain the colour the vitality the joy of being. Falling back into the serenity of my private imaginary world where my potential was realised. This peculiar personality trait to fantasise was a mechanism to endure being so utterly alone to neutralise the anguish of being schizoid. Instead of excelling in adventurous new vocation or persisting with my studies i escaped into this alternative reality where i was untethered from the restraints of my deeply introverted identity.

My relationship with my immediate family continued to deteriorate as my schizoid symptoms became more pronounced. The detrimental pattern of detachment and non communication from my family i started in early adolescence only exacerbated as i matured into a dysfunctional adult. Being schizoid only exacerbated the frosty relationship with my parents. Weeks would glide by with me not exchanging a single conversation with my father. When we did converse its was these terse icy exchanges no warmth no rapport between us. Never would we engage in lengthy verbose conversations. I had become so disassociated from the warmth of family life being akin to a stranger in the house. Ever since i was a infant the quality of my connection with my father had been incrementally declining. With the genesis of my corrosive personality disorder it intensified the emotional distance between us. I still loved my father as I’m positive he loved me however i was incapable of expressing my feelings explicitly. My father like myself struggled with elucidating his repressed feelings to me. I had inherited these traits of intense inhibition from my father. In my atypical nature the severity of my emotional constipation was greater. My father was doomed to be crippling shy introvert who found being emotionally lucid a laborious undertaking. Whereas i was so acutely afflicted by emotional impotence it left we branded a social leper forever alone in a indifferent godless universe.

The bond with my mother also continued to degrade as i became a adult. My mother was a mountain of boundless warmth of infinite maternal love a ebullient extrovert yet we became disconnected for each other. As a teenager i was shy i rarely talked at all in the family setting. Even with people i shared a affinity with who i was related with i found it arduous to interact with. The interactions with my mother became infrequent it wasn’t lengthy fluent exchanges it was mainly a exchange of superficial pleasantries. The depths of my soul aches with sadness at how this once beautiful bond had become fragmented had become impaired through the ravages of my damaged personality. At home as a young adult I’d vanish into my cell of isolation into my self imposed solitary confinement chamber. The only time there was even a modicum of interaction was with the habitual family tea time meal. At dinner the conversation from my part was awkward I’d answer there inquisitive questions with a robotic bluntness. The dinner was permeated with long stretches of deafening silence. Keeping my emotional problems hidden in the tomb of my fractured mind never divulging never unloading my emotional torment.

At home in the intimate vicinity of family i adopted a stoic countenance a putting on the robotic mask to protect myself from ever being vulnerable. At this particular period i was ignorant that i was under the duress of a psychological impairing disorder. I was though cognisant that I wasn’t a normal that manifesting anti social behaviour being sequestered from human contact was abnormal. Fully aware I wasn’t growing out of my teenage awkwardness that the odd behaviour was preventing me from excelling in life. That my primary relationships were being adversely affected by my untreated mental illness. That this wasn’t a angsty teenage habit where i gained some autonomy from my creators in order to develop into adulthood. I was now a young adult still possessing these negative character traits.

As with the complete breakdown of the relationships with my mother and father the affinity the rapport i was shared with my sister had evaporated over time. Where there was once a poignant intimate kinship now he became strangers cohabiting in the same domicile. I can recall being a child being almost inseparable from my sister Racheal. Our connection was a enormously enriching kinship which sustained through the tribulations of my initial induction into primary school. Now in the midst of my emotional arrested adulthood we barely spoke to each other. We were so cold in the seldom occasions we actually spoke to each other. We never disclosed intimate issues to each other conversations were laconic the ice never melted. I removed myself from that iridescent warmth of my sisters love i attempted to extricate her humanity from my life. The notion of being close to Racheal became so intensely stressful. Wanting to avoid the negativity raw emotions that results in disclosing private secrets to another human. I believed the disorder had always been with me except now in my maturation from teenager into a fully formed adult it had progressed in the severity of the symptoms. My relatives i postulated were conscious that i was a abnormal individual possibly suffering from a mental illness but were unaware of my numerous emotional problems due to my secretive nature. In summation the love the warmth of my family i had once in my infancy had vanish never to return. I was essentially a stranger living in their abode with no connection no rapport between us just indifference and metaphorical walls that would never be removed or torn down.

In spite of my deteriorating social skills. My maladroit manner i remarkably was able to maintain the handful of friendships from secondary school. We would meet on sporadic occasions maybe once a month on glorious nights out. These vital beneficial alliances were preserved despite my predilection for extensive periods of solitude. My social anxiety my disquietude in meeting strangers in unfamiliar situations had heightened through the worsening of my condition. Being cloaked in the comforting blanket of my friends love uncertain anxiety inducing situations was durable. In my early adult years when my disorder was beginning to affect me i had these ordinary youthful pursuits such as holiday excursions in foreign exotic locations.

I can recall these wondrous holidays with a fondness and with a deep melancholy at the life i could have experienced as a adult. The adventurous outgoing life that i had a glimpse of a life i aspired to have that was sadly denied by the limitations of my insular personality. From the ages of 16 until 21 I regularly went on exuberant vacations with my friends. It was a aspect of my life that could be depicted as normal. Not having a functional social life where i would rarely break my rigid routine of sixth college studies and home. The holidays the joyous memories that were created gave some ebullience to a black and white monochrome life. I felt for a momentary period like a human being instead of this alienated social freak who was forbidden to participate in many of life affirming indulgences. Going to popular holiday ventures consuming excessive quantities of alcohol having a rich tapestry of drunken memories to recall on.

The friendships from school of James, Steve and Jonathan were sustained there were other friends we habitually socialised with in our small tribe of cohorts. In this particular time in my late teens my disorder hadn’t developed to the point where I wasn’t able to preserve long term meaningful friendships. On these holidays though i continued to struggle in seducing attractive women. My ineptitude around women whom i was attracted towards precluded me from yielding any success in the area of sexual intercourse. There was a seminal occasion on another alcohol fuelled adventure in Ibiza where i finally managed to lose my virginity. It’s a miraculous event that another women through the magic of alcohol would find me sexually alluring to the point she was prepared to engage in the ecstasy of sex. It was the isolated sexual experience in my entire pathetic vapid life where my sexual desires were satiated. Her name was rose she had glorious flowing red hair that cascaded down her voluptuous body. Her memory her sublime appearance is tattooed on my consciousness. Never again would engage in the heavenly cosmic experience of pure physical intimacy with another person. Due to my litany of dysfunctions my flaws connecting with men with women I regarded as aesthetically pleasing became highly improbable.

At the age of 18 when perchance I discovered that i was suffering from a pernicious personality disorder on a website which delineated the symptoms signs and effects of being schizoid. This was a blindingly illuminating moment that give me devastating perceptive on how damaged i had become in early adulthood. I never vocalised i was impaired with this disorder to another soul. Keeping it secret like the depression that haunts me every waking moment like a ghost. Trying diligently to appear normal adopting a persona of sanity of detachment. With my friends i was a normal person able to engage in vibrant humorous conversations being able to be lucid with these enduring friendships. Having a normal albeit a limited social calendar going out infrequently once a month but being able to have a semblance of normality in claustrophobic anxiety inducing nights out. Around the shelter the security of my cohorts i was able to actually enjoy getting drunk in nightclubs surrounded by strangers without feeling too paranoid or stressed out. It took considerable effort and persistence from my friends to preserve our intimate relationship. Due to my inclination for being alone for having a aversion and vexation in interacting with other humans. My mates had to cajole me to venture outside they had to work hard to keep in contact with me. Never would i take the initiative call my friends it was invariably who arranged a meeting a night out a party a holiday abroad. As my condition grew more severe we met less infrequently as a result of my antisocial cold behaviour and being educated in a different educational establishment than all my companions. This was the cycle of socialising meeting up sporadically never calling never divulging about my myriad of psychological issues. Having rare nights out which were a enriching fulfilling that was essentially my only social interaction outside of laconic exchanges at college. These social gatherings of my comrades i continued to partake in until i emancipated myself from my family home when i was approximately 21.

From 16 till 21 i struggled immensely with forming connections with humans i was physically enamoured with. According to the schizoid personality disorder list of traits. Schizoids are often sexually apathetic this wasn’t the case with me. I had fantasies desires a insatiable sexual appetite. I had these grandiose romantic dreams of falling in love with a ethereal beauty. There was this dichotomy between my need for physical gratification for emotional validation and my social anxiety my hostility to any form of emotional intimacy. My schizoid inclinations prohibited me form having a girlfriends from finding love in a cold world. My damaged personality from even showing a modicum of interest in anybody that was pleasing to my eye. As a repercussion of my aloofness my frosty exterior i never had a girlfriend. This corrosive disorder locked out of a ordinary human experience billions of humans are able to participate in. The crippling terminal loneliness wanting so badly to have sex to have love in my insipid life. My desires were never satisfied love was this fantastical experience that existed in my imagination.

Around this formative time when i was still maturing into a fully formed adult when i was still confused about my sexual orientation. From the onset of puberty i found other men alluring. I couldn’t comprehend whether it was a phase of sexual curiosity or was i gay or perhaps bisexual. The impulse to be attracted to men hadn’t vanished these physical desires persisted as a adult. By the age of 18 these strong physical desires weren’t dissipating. Still i was intensely uncertain where exactly on the sexual spectrum i was. I was as equally sexually attracted to me and women. There was no difference in the degree of attraction between either gender. With men though there was alleviated levels of anxiety in the company of men. Intercommunicating was effortless in comparison to the laborious conversational i had with the fairer sex. These conversations with men were superficial shallow exchanges still i felt a rapport. With men as with women i could never actualise my desire never force myself into vulnerable conversations where i exposed my inner feelings. All my male relationships were platonic never flourishing into a physically intimate one. My inability with revealing any emotions my inability to be unafraid and confess my feeling lead into a barren love life permeated with regret with missed opportunities.

I was trapped in this body this soul desperate to be different to found a morsel of emotional gratification. A soul tortured by pathological hatred of myself never regarding myself as anything other than a grotesque alien freak. Beautiful people came into my life illuminated by dulled haunted eyes but i was trapped by my emotional paralysis. The detrimental cycle has been repeated throughout my meagre adulthood a vicious cycle that’s left me alone and depressed. Yearning aching for the overpowering radiance of love.

A injurious effect of being schizoid is my educational and career prospects were severely impaired. At the age of 18 i left sixth form with poor grades. A couple of c’s and d’s my performance had deteriorated as my conditions had become increasingly prevalent. I had no intention no ambition in applying for university education. My drive my relentless desire for self improvement to leave this humdrum town had vanished. As i discovered my disorder i concluded that I’d spend the remainder of my life severely handicapped unable to integrate in society. It was a devastating realisation of how broken how damaged i had become. Like looking in the mirror and seeing this deformed visage of man this is how I viewed my personality. My academic intellectual pretensions had been shattered, from this point on i abandoned any academic endeavours. Coming to the awareness that i would be trapped in Mayberry until i died. That i wasn’t equipped to venture outside to the big bad foreboding world. That I’m cursed to be a loved starved friendless loser condemned to a vocation in low paying low skilled menial labour. It’s my biggest regret that I’ve effectively given up on my dreams to a sad nothing job that’s left me bereft of life.

After college i remained at home not pursuing any academic education ending any higher educations ambitions. I ceased playing my scared guitar abandoned reading or writing losing my love for literature. After i terminated my academic aspirations I descended into a dark depression. At 18 applying for work at a a clothing warehouse called TWC. A clothing warehouse which packaged clothing to various retailers. Taking this meagre unattractive form of employment because it required no real skills or qualifications and having no social skills wasn’t a detriment to working in a warehouse. It was low skilled minimum wage labour the only type of employment that suited my abnormal character. By this time my pronounced social inhibitions were preventing me from exploring any vocation where there was any form of social interaction. In this warehouse atmosphere i could survive with my limited palette of social skills. Being gregarious being convivial wasn’t a prerequisite for working in a claustrophobic warehouse setting in fact my maladroit persona wasn’t a hindrance in being employed at TWC. I have subsisted in this soul destroying job for 15 years. It’s the sole form of employment I’ve had in my entire prosaic existence. Working here is like indentured servitude I don’t feel like a autonomous sentient rather a prisoner incarcerated in a brutal suffocating system. I persist in working here because I’m not challenged intellectually there’s no danger of ever being exposing myself emotionally and socially. I fell into this rut going to work 5 days a week in a spiritually dead situation. Where i was making barely enough money to support myself. It’s was a meagre wage but I was a slave inside a subhuman system paid enough to remain a slave. At TWC my dreams slowly died they only prevailed in my fantasy landscape. I had a lifestyle of sporadic nights out with a increasingly disassociated connection with my friends and work days surviving in a suffocating mind numbing workplace. At TWC i made few acquaintances there were seldom individuals i conversed with. On the whole though i kept myself to myself putting on this robotic icy visage. Not engaging in lengthy erudite conversations not allowing myself to cultivate meaningful substantive work associations.

These years from 18 to 21 is where I perpetuated these illusionary hopes for my future but my dreams the glimmering lights of fantastical possibilities were slowly diminishing through the ravages of time. Still i socialised with school chums still had glorious delusions of falling in love. These delusions died a slow death as i realised i was destined to live a purgatory life trapped in endless loneliness in agonising solitude. Over the first few years of my tenure at TWC my fractured relationship with my immediate family progressively deteriorated to the point we hardly talked at all. I made the courageous decision to gain some independence and move away from the noxious family environment to relocate to a cosy 1 bedroom flat. I needed to be free to be alone in my own company where I existed in a stress free fortress of solitude liberated from the vexation of human company. Even if the protracted solitude exacerbated my depression even if it heightened my melancholia. Being sequestered in my private enclave alleviated the daily anxiety the angst in living in close proximity to other humans.

By the age of 21 my disorder had eroded my interpersonal skills to the point I envisioned being a hermit. Moving out enabled me to further detach myself from family and friends. The measly paying menial occupation the vacuous personal life the emotional numbness were normal conditions i endured in my early twenties. It wasn’t living this psychedelic exciting adventurous life filled with beautiful mad people that i had envisioned in my embryonic teenage imagination. Never expanding my horizons beyond this small poverty stricken town. Living in a insular world a permanent loop of solitude and mind numbing labour.

Chapter 3 Teenage Alienation

As i progressed into adolescence i was cognisant that i began to change as a person. Transforming in many positive aspects in my self confidence in my ambitions for the future. Benefiting from the atmosphere that was fostered in my secondary school education. It was a environment where you could thrive where intellectual curiosity was nurtured. For the first time at school i was valued i was infused with a passion for learning. There opened up this world of opportunity of promise out there for me to explore.

At primary school i was stifled i was stultified by the education system. The stricter unimaginative teaching methods was something I’d never benefit from. The fact at school i struggled verbally that i was painfully shy lacking in any confidence whatsoever. The long shadow of emotional and social impairment had faded from my memory. Now i become a flower blooming thriving in this intellectual stimulating milieu of secondary school education.

Began to have these grand dreams these illusions of my future. Whereas before my sense of worthlessness had left me believing I’d grew up to be a nothing man to be a pathetic waste of a man. The alienation subsided to a period of unbridled optimism. I had these visions of my future of wild adventures of breaking free from my hometown. A life of more than traversing to a meaningless dead end soul destroying job 9 till 5 job. A life I envisioned that was filled with interesting charismatic individuals. I dreamed of entering a vocation that allowed me to grow to flourish as a person. Even as a teenager i had desires for leaving for leaving my desolate hometown. Constantly fantasising about being a musician about being famous being a individual who made a significant impact on the world on humanity.

In Mayberry in this suffocating ambience of poverty of mind numbing labour opportunities my dreams my would never be actualised in this environment. I knew that i had to escape the walls of this town. That I had to endeavour to work tremendously hard at school. To benefit from incessant studying by attaining access to university education. A university that would give me the passage towards a more economically and spiritually prosperous existence. At my secondary school this idealised future seemed a plausible attainable reality. Before i was paralysed with self doubt in my lack of belief in my own intellect. The childhood scars of my own behavioural and social impairment existed for the remainder of my primary education.

As a teenager i was still deeply inhabited with a lack of confidence socially. I was still this profoundly introverted person who struggled to articulate himself emotionally to people. I wasn’t progressing in my limited social skills but i was flourishing in my school studies. Whereas at primary school i was categorised as a substandard pupil. Now in the ameliorating climate of the secondary school i advanced to the top stratosphere in the majority of subjects. Now going to school i actually enjoyed learning meeting new people being introduced to new ideas new intellectual pursuits. This door towards a brighter more illuminating future had been opened up.

Despite all these advancements i was having still i remained this isolated lonely teenager. I was liberated from the stagnation of primary school however wasn’t altering in my detrimental inability to convey myself emotionally. I forged new friendships at school but still struggled in the majority of social situations. The anxiety the terse conversational style still persisted in my personality. Rather than casting away these negative traits in my early adolescence these character traits had become solidified in my character. The idiosyncrasies that suggested that i might be suffering from a pathological personality disorder weren’t diminishing. The social aloofness the poor verbal dexterity were all prevalent in my developing psyche. I still drifted into a elaborate fantasy world to cope with the daily ordeals of my isolation my teenage melancholia. However now i began to conceive of a future were my dreams could be realised. Always knew I’d never be this charismatic extroverted person that existed in my inner dreamworld. I could through be somebody more that a lonely nothing man. I could conceive of a future where i could fall on love that i was capable of happiness. I envisioned a life of travel of adventure of endless exploration all these were now in the sanguine light of my adolescence distinct possibilities.

As a teenager is still yearned to break free to be different to end the alienation i endured every day. Still was trapped inside my head having this overwhelming weight i was desperate to confide in another acquaintance. Nonetheless remained a outsider a teenager who saw himself marginalised separated from mainstream society. Continued to labour in forming new meaningful poignant relationships. The friends i had at secondary school were generally the same circle of friends I maintained from primary school. Never really fostering new friends at secondary school they were peers i conversed with who i had superficial shallow interactions with. These weren’t long lasting emotionally beneficial relationships. Also during my formative teenage years i rarely socialised outside of school. Occasionally playing football with my minuscule circle of friends from primary school. On rare occurrences I’d invite a friend to spend the night these were extremely rare events in my sparse social calendar.

After school I would spend extensive periods in the private isolation chamber of my bedroom. Disappearing after school into the enticing alluring fantasy world of video pages immersing myself into virtual reality indulgences. Submerging myself away from the world into protracted isolated states. This is the antisocial pattern i perpetuated from childhood that temporarily relieved my anxiety by inhaling the oxygen of solitude. The normalised routine on schooldays was coming home from school walking alone as i lived a different region of town than my school comrades. When i arrived home I’d vanish upstairs to my fortress of solitude disappearing into the seductive universe of video games. Losing myself in music in celebrated world of literature. In these hermit pusrsuits i could escape the harsh reality of being me of being this painfully inrtoverted. Losing myself in fantasy in daydreaming of escaping this forsaken town which felt like extricating myself from a prison. Seldom would i leave my isolation cell other than to eat with my family. Remaining locked inside my cave working diligently night after night on my studies. Desperately wanting to vacate Mayberry forever, this town was so oppressive i felt it slowly crushing my tender spirit living in a world without colour. A world of boredom a harsh brutal life would await me if I remained ensconced here as a adult. Therefore i was steadfastly determined to obtain exemplary grades giving me access to a prominent university education and a pathway towards a alleviated existence. I understood even as a teenager there even basic attributes i lacked. My inadequate social prowess a factor which was going to adversely affect the quality of my adult life.

There were areas subjects I excelled at subjects such as mathematics science and English literature i had demonstrated great proficiency and curiosity towards. There were other subjects such as music which provided me with immense pleasure. Listening to music enabled me to endure the struggles of being this way. Music was a avenue of creativity i discovered when i listened and played various musical instruments. Providing me with a outlet allowing myself to express my pain. The release of repressed emotions the ability to connect with other people through playing and listening to music. I had a aptitude for music had mastered the guitar and piano to become a accomplished player of these alluring musical instruments. Playing music allowing my creativity to flourish gave me fantastical dreams of becoming this charismatic rock star. I would let my imagination run free with flight of fancy about being a rock star being admired by millions of adoring fans having a profound connection to millions of admirers. Music i ascertained was a beneficial outlet were all by crippling inhibitions all my anxiety all this sadness buried deep inside me could me released. These were my passions the venues of learning where I sought to better myself. The love I possessed foot music the inclination for the subjects of mathematics and sciences is how i would liberate myself from this town. I could circumvent the trappings of poverty of a life of menial subsistence labour with vigorously committing to my studies.

As I entered adolescence my relationship with my immediate family began to change it began to deteriorate. When i was a child i was relatively close there was a intimate bond to my family. Now i became detached aloof from my family especially from my mother and father. The relationship with my father since i enrolled in my primary school had become very disconnected. We struggled to compose meaningful conversations. My father like myself could never be characterised as loquacious conversations between us often were staid and uncomfortable. We would converse in facile superficial topics such as football or the weather but never engage in deep intimate conversations. My fathers withdrawn shy nature precluded him from enquiring about how i was doing of where i envisioned my future as i progressed into adulthood. I on my part made no real endeavour to improve our emotionally glacial relationship. Hence we rarely saw each other I disappeared to my protracted states of solitude when i was at home. Only seeing my father when we would watch television like a normal nuclear family. The conversations were succinct with laconic remarks on the televisual program we were observing. I desperately wanted a considerably more healthy interconnection with my father wanting to break through the ice. Having a real moment where we connected was so elusive so incredibly unlikely considering our introverted personalities. We were doomed to have this estranged distant rapport. I can never recall a moment of physical embrace a hug a declaration of love between us. Displays of affection were antithetical to my fathers austere cold nature. I wanted yearned for a solitary act of paternal affection I’m convinced it would help to nullify all the alienation all the depression i tolerated as a teenager and adult. The hugs never came so i grew accustomed to the coldness normalising it. As i grew older i withdraw further and further away from my father to the point it was a broken relationship devoid of any real intimacy.

My relationship with my father was never close yet as i commenced the tumult of my adolescence I drifted apart from my mother. We were once bonded together in a healthy place. The displays of maternal affection were common in the early stages of my childhood. It was a attachment that allowed me to survive the pains of my existence. It became a shelter for my many interpersonal relationship issues. Struggling since i was a infant to establish meaningful friendships which left a gapping chasm in my soul that was filled with my mothers infinite love. The need for validation for acceptance which i never received from the world from my school peers i obtained from the warm bosom of my mothers love. As i began to alter as i person in my teenage years i began to disassociate from mother. The intimacy had slowly vanished as i exhibited abnormal schizoid like behaviour. At the time I understood this as normal behaviour wanting to establish a modicum of independence to break free from the confines of family to become a autonomous person. It’s perfectly normal and healthy to have a separate independent life from your matriarch.

However becoming so withdrawn and uncommunicative around my family members were the warning signs of a antisocial personality disorder. Just like my relationship with my father i never articulated my emotional problems with my mother. Becoming to my family a aloof stand offish person who sequestered himself from daily family life. As I grew older i developed a familiar pattern of behaviour where i secluded myself from my parents. It was a routine of avoiding human contact preferring to lock myself away from the the warmth of family. Living in isolation away from humanity even as a teenager i despised being around people even people i was related to. I was beginning to regress further inwards into a socially withdrawn lifestyle. It started with my immediate family with my sister. These genetic relationships had lost there allure there meaning

My sister Racheal throughout my problematic childhood remained close to me. She was akin a close friend we had a profound bind that went beyond being related. In my really childhood trauma with being characterised as being abnormal my interconnection with Racheal was instrumental in facilitating being integrated in mainstream society with children my own age. She provided me with a buffer to assuage my social anxieties enabling me to forge friendships. More than my mother my sister made me feel like a human like i mattered instead of this deformed alien creature. Having the radiating glow of her kinship allowed me to escape the confines of my metaphorical prison allowing me to view childhood with colour with hope with promise for the future. As mentioned previously my sister had a contrasting personality type to me. Whereas i was deeply introverted Racheal was a loquacious extrovert who enjoyed immensely socialising with her classmates.

I can see the beginnings of my detrimental behaviour in pushing my sister away from me in once again disassociating myself from a indispensable relationship. As we became adolescents we detached from each other. I disappearing to my fortress of solitude having infrequent conversations with Racheal. Pulling myself from people who i cared for pushing away family members who genuinely love me who showered me with affection was the beginnings of my disorder. I resisted getting close to any family member needing badly to be alone. Even though my sister went to the same school as myself and was of a similar age we had been reduced to virtual strangers at secondary school. On the sporadic occasions we did partake in conversations it was usually robotic formal verbal exchanges between us. At the time i didn’t deduce this behaviour to be peculiar or the preliminary signs of a life long disorder which would severely affect the quality of my finite existence. At the time and now i am immensely sad about how we lost each other how the intimacy was lost. How through my taciturn manner this beautiful kinship lost its warmth lost its affection.

My teenage years were marred by a profound sense of alienation from society from my family. I felt vehemently this sensation of being exiled from society seeing myself as a other as a alien freak in a world of beautiful photogenic humans. Over the course of my childhood enduring intense feeling of self loathing of feeling worthless. Now through my teenage eyes the genesis of suicidal depression took root in my atypical consciousness. The feeling of being analogous to a lost soul travelling the desert searching for water to stay alive searching desperately for salvation from the terminal loneliness. At primary school in my pre-pubescent years i never had depression their was a all encompassing melancholy that never left me. However this pervasive sadness had metastasised into dark thoughts of suicide. Constantly over the duration of my adolescence i would ruminate about the possibility of killing myself. It became normal in my damaged mind to have wishes to die to want to cease being a sentient breathing being. Never did i articulate divulge these dark inner thoughts to another soul. I buried this depression repressing these emotions the emotional torment was never to be conveyed to anybody ever. From the onset of my teenage desolation i buried the pain made a secret pact to never verbalise my emotions to remain lost alone in the darkness of being me of being alive in this cruel world.

Wishing now I could have taken a alternative path that i would seek help to proclaim my pain to anybody. Wishing with deep regret that i would utter my emotional problems to a friend to a relative to a professional psychologist. Instead i took the pernicious decision to numb myself to these negative emotions to never adequately address the inner tumult. I became numb retreating inwards away from society from human contact sequestering into the serenity of a private world. This was the inception of my personality disorder. The silence the impossibility of connecting my pain with a friend. There was nobody out there who i believed would have the humanity the compassion to be interested in my suicidal predilections.

The world the school environment seemed a cold indifferent place. To survive to function i had to force myself to be emotional stunted to anaesthetise myself to protracted clinical depression. The idea of talking to my guardians to a teacher the depths of depression i had sunken into was utterly terrifying. It’s was completely alien to be that emotionally vulnerable to be honest. It was easier to adopt a mask of aloofness to never grew to never become emotional literate remaining this underdeveloped person. Despite my apparent detachment from my depression from this black cancer living inside me i still had perennial thoughts of suicide. I deliberated in my defective adolescent mind the most effective pain free method of suicide. I hypothesised about suicide in a meticulous rigorous manner thinking about all the methods of ending my life. Thinking about every minuscule detail of suicide wether i would leave a final suicide note. In reflection i had decided to become a ghost a memory by consuming a large dosage of pills which i surmised would surely kill me. Didn’t want to leave a predictable note or suicidal lament wanting to remain enigmatic and secretive even in death. I had these sick fantasies of my funeral. Envisioning relatives friends morning my death dressed in stereotypical funeral garb. In death my life would have meaning i would have a momentary moment of notoriety in a tragic successful suicide attempt. I was cognisant these were sick twisted thoughts were evidence that I wasn’t right in the head. I was fully aware i had a severe untreated mental illness that drastically needed treatment through speaking to a psychiatrist and taking anti depressant medications which would alleviate these life threatening bouts of depression.

In the black dog of depression i was completely alone with nobody to be a witness to my unbearable pain. The pain just existed in the recesses of my damaged mind like a cancer growing infected my entire body. The dark fatalistic fantasies remained prevalent in my daily thoughts the demons found no useful outlet. The depression remained repressed just negatively affecting by sparse social life my ability to form romantic relationship. The relentless unending depression was a major factor why I enjoyed being alone being without human company. Having a barren social life never asking or arranging to meet up with friends.

I did have a intimate circle of friends despite my severely limited social abilities i managed to cultivate and maintain these enduring friendships. These acquaintances were individuals i was acquainted with from early on in my primary school tenure. I had no real acquaintances outside of the enclave of the school environment. Never congregating with teenagers in my local neighbourhood. These were signs of the adult life i would lead. A lack of proclivity for socialising with strangers opting to be cloistered inside my own personal monastery of solitude. On the seldom occasions i came across other teenagers outside of the school milieu i ignored them never allowing myself to become friendly to become attached or acquainted with these strange teenagers. I kept myself to myself restraining a small tribe of lifelong school companions. Can still recollect the names of my longstanding teenage friendships.

There was James Gallagher who i knew from the preliminary stages of my primary school education. James was a tall slender adolescent with a great sense of style. I admired him for his photogenic looks for his effortless self confidence. I had known James from the age of 5. We were close friends James and i were friendly when i was misdiagnosed with childhood autism. He knew me from my darkest loneliest childhood days. He was one of my first friendships i manage to cultivate in spite of my maladroit personality. It was a truly meaningful friendship that enabled me to build a semblance of self confidence. This friendship empowered me to become a functional member of society. It was a enduring friendship built upon glorious joyous memories and shared leisure pursuits. A companionship forged on mutual tastes in music on a identical sense of humour. I envied James for his gregarious effusive personality for his wry sense of humour. Envied him for his adroit manner with the opposite sex. I wish I could converse with women with the ease without the panic inducing anxiety I had to endure in my angst ridden teenage character.

Another abiding school friend was Steve mcnulty. I had been acquainted with Steve since the age of 7 when serendipitously we were placed in the same class. Just like James this was a immensely beneficial friendship which allowed me to feel like a normal human. The early childhood alienation and conversational difficulties has dissipated as a consequence of these vital ameliorating childhood friendships. Steve was different in terms of his physicality than James being considerably more stocky in his build. Like James was loquacious in unfamiliar social situations was able to interact with fluency with strangers. As a socially precocious teenager he carried on his gregarious nature freely talking to women without reluctance a quality i envied tremendously. He had a bounty of girlfriends throughout his secondary school education. Indeed women found him attractive he had a effusive charming personality that women found alluring. I on the other hand was doomed to never possess this qualities i barely spoke to women i was physically attracted to. Wanting to be transformed into this effusive charismatic extrovert who could seduce women. Inside i was locked inside the walls of my crippling shyness. Cursed to never break my inhibitions to never conquer the barriers of my damaged personality. Even though I envied my friends proficient interpersonal abilities never did i resent them. I had deep admiration for their verbal lucidity their emotional competency around attractive women i revered these captivating traits.

The individual who became my closest companion during my duration at secondary school was Jonathan smith. We were distant friends throughout our time in primary school where never becoming close chums. Jonathan was a peripheral figure at my primary school as a result as being in a different close throughout the duration of my tenure at primary school. In the first year at my secondary education establishment we were brought together by fate in the same class. He became my undeniable best friend as a consequence of being placed in close proximity to each other. We developed in a short time this intimate beautiful friendship. Having this trusted close companion help to assuage my social anxiety. Jonathan was markedly dissimilar to me in his character and in terms of his physicality. Physically he could described as overweight with a corpulent physique. Despite his bulky physical frame Jonathan was a vastly popular figure at secondary school. Other classmates ensued his amicable charming extroverted personality. Having him as a friend allowed me to function in the uncomfortable atmosphere of the classroom. Jonathan with his curly auburn hair with his freckled face with his idolisation of indie music was a significant figure in my formative teenage years. I have hypothesised in my mind that this friendship helped to offset my emotional my psychological issues until early adulthood. I was still painfully shy but i had these salutary friendships where we partook in normal teenage pursuits. Jonathan introduced me to the serene hobby of fishing. He intiated me into this tranquil pastime where i felt this appreciation for the beauty of nature. These various activities i experienced that i was begrudgingly encouraged to participate in allowed myself to have a ostensibly normal teenage hood.

Still though i only had a minuscule clique of friends i struggled to foster relationships outside of this clique. In the school holidays i found myself retreating inwards into this hermit existence. Having a vacuum of a social life never having the impetus to call one of my friends relaying on my extroverted chums to contact me and arrange a meeting. When i was on a vacation from school I neglected friendships i concealed myself in my enclave separated from human contact. It’s the same antisocial pattern of behaviour I’ve maintained in my adult life only the level of isolation and need for solitude has exacerbated.

It was not only the area of establishing friendship i laboured with but it was meeting relating to girls i struggled with. I was severely hampered with my severe anxiety that impaired my ability to connect with women. Hence I barely spoke to other girls at school. Girls i found sexually attractive i froze up on the inside becoming inarticulate never being able to convey my emotions my pent up desires. Never being able to break the ice form a connection with a heavenly nymph. I had all this emotion all these repressed desires all these fervid hormones swirling round my body desperate to be released. Around women i was utterly pathetic so overwhelmed by these fantasies of sex by the fantastical possibility of a romantic relationship. Therefore i struggled to interact to forge a romantic or sexual relationship with women that could lead to profound levels of intimacy or the utopia of falling in love. To achieve the dream of love i had to be a alternative personality type. To have a girlfriend achieve the wonders bounty of love and sex i needed to cast away this aloof shy emotionless persona and become a charismatic garrulous teenager. That was never going to happen i was doomed to be imprisoned inside the cage of this inhibiting impairing personality disorder. Throughout my teenage years i was unable to lose my virginity was never had a girlfriend. To have a girlfriend you need to be confident outgoing and emotionally available you require all these positive attributes. Never did i go on a date never had the fortitude to ask a winsome beauty out on a rendezvous. That idea of spending an entire evening with a enchanting women having to be charming engage in interesting conversation was utterly terrifying. The dearth of self confidence the deficient social graces precluded me form having these vital enriching adolescent experiences. Not only i never had sex a date never did i participate in a kiss. Never touching my tender lips against another human in a physical manifestation of love never to feel truly alive to be validated as a sexual being. This was the asocial behaviour where I refrained from engaging in carnal pleasures this cycle of behaviour would persist over the duration of my sad pathetic life. It was a life where human contact was lacking where i seldom communicated warmth or a modicum of sexual interest towards anybody. A subsistence where i was cast out by society due to my inability to connect emotionally. Women ignored me i had these perceptions of deep rooted inadequacy and self loathing that intensified through the alienation and constant rejection.

I supplemented the dearth of human contact by consuming soft core pornography and indulging in the glorious pursuit of self love. In masturbation i could fulfil my wildest fantasies i lost myself in vivid daydreaming of engaging in sublime acts of sexual congress. Just like my proclivity for existing in a intricate fantasy world where i lived through alter ego character in consuming pornography in self gratification i could satisfy my unfulfilled sexual and romantic desires. In my heart i became cognisant sex and romance were going to be allusive pleasure for me. Due to my severely handicapped verbal skills and inability to find emotional intimacy i was destined to have a sporadic sex life with protracted periods of celibacy

As i was a teenager as i started having sexual desires I began having real doubts about my sexual orientation. As i was a abject failure around women i developed these amorous feelings for other men. I was confused what my sexual identity was not knowing if i was heterosexual or bisexual or queer. I posited this was a reaction to women showing no interest in my unappealing homely appearance. As a young man i found it considerably more comfortable conversing with men. With women there was this heightened anxiety around men i found myself more lucid able to be more engaging in social interaction. I started watching the occasional video of gays porn i would pleasure myself to alluring images of attractive men. I was experimenting in private not knowing for sure my exact sexual orientation. Even after indulging in vast quantities of gay porn i believed I wasn’t gay. Continued to find myself attracted to females and had illusions of falling in love with a goddess. When I’d fantasise of being in love invariably it was a women rarely a man would appear in my elaborate sexual imaginations. These sexual inclinations for en i kept hidden in the tombs of my mind never revealing it to another soul. Homosexuality was still a taboo subject even in the early 21st century. To come out as gay would require immense courage. Taking a audacious act in admitting to my sexual identity would force me to be unguarded. Force me to become a diametrically opposed personality to be open person instead of this secretive loner.

My formative teenage years laid the foundation for how i lived the rest of my life. The detrimental behaviour the aloofness the tendency for long phases of isolation. The compensating for my sparse social life and ineptness in fostering friendships with losing myself in a rich virtual life. A fantasy world which allowed me to be emancipated from the shackles of my social inertia. My teenage years had a veneer of normality with myself retaining genuine meaningful friendships. I had a life where at times i felt normal still though i was tortured by feeling so alienated by a physical dysmorphia that made me feel like a alien freak not a beautiful human being. I viewed myself as a alien unable to process to elucidate normal human emotions. That certain fundamental human experiences i was prohibited from partake in. It’s obvious with my abnormal behavioural tendencies the signs were that that i had this personality disorder. Never had a singular sexual relationship never divulged you deepest emotions never revealed my sexual desires. Kept a secret my battle with depression never confiding with anybody my suicidal impulses. Back then i still harboured illusions of having a normal functional adult life. I understood I was going to struggle in unfamiliar social situations struggle to formulate new acquaintances. Still had these vast ambitions to travel the globe to better myself intellectually to leave the confines of this bleak English town. Having fantasies to enrol in a prestigious university to study in the fields of English or humanities. Envisions this future where i could become a successful musician who had emotional catharsis via the creation and performance of music.

The depths of their disorder for now i was largely ignorant of. I was blind to how this pathological disorder would adversely affect my social life my vocational prospects the general quality of my life.

No Future

Sick of the pain the god damn fucking pain that lurks in my mind. Everyday is a arduous struggle to survive living is extremely hard I’m suffocating on the noxious fumes of my defective body and mind. This is my last literary effort after this i plan to expeditiously kill myself the same way my mother almost 10 years previously committed suicide. By hanging my listless forlorn body from a rope. Dying in excruciating misery in a slow death all alone live on my poorly viewed YouTube channel.

I’ve contemplated suicide on innumerable moments in the past 10 years always found a reason to carry on existing in this cruel callous world. Now all the light has been exhumed by my crippling depression and anxiety. Once there burned a fire for life that roared inside of me now that fire has died a slow death there’s no sunshine in my soul only the abyss of despair. I cant carry on anymore i cant function in this world the lead iron weight of my pernicious illness is destroying me rotting me from the inside like a cancerous growth proliferating across my body rendering me tortured by my terminal depression and habitual panic attacks. At least once a month i am forced to endure a panic attack where i feel overcome with a sensation of dread then I’m paralysed unable to move from the sanctuary of my bed. I don’t answer the phone I exist in silence in my tomb lost in the hell of my inner world.

The panic attacks started in the weeks that followed my mums sudden harrowing suicide it was symptomatic of my unresolved ptsd I had all this social anxiety that exploded in a humiliating attack. They’ve occurred with regularity never though have i consulted with a gp a therapist or confided with my father or a close confidant the depths of my disorder. My depression my anxiety my self harm my suicidal predilections have only been articulated through the medium of poetry and my anonymous YouTube videos. I have kept it all a secret from my closest friends my family through the many lies blaming my anxiety attacks on my asthma making lame excuses as to why i cant go out. Telling my friends I’m studying or I’m unable to attends due to a temporary physical ailment.

Now I have reached the end of the road no reason to carry on existing. For months in the alienation of my secluded one bedroom flat in the middle of Cambridge I’ve been ruminating whether or not to end my pathetic life. Everyday its the same thoughts circulating my mind how and why. Now i know how and there’s no why to avert me from carry out my nihilistic plan. As i compose this letter with my left hand I’m stroking the sturdy unbreakable rope. I want this i want death after last week attending my dads second wedding there’s no incentive for me to delay my injurious plan. I deferred my suicide date to not spoil my dads wedding wanting him to have a untarnished wedding day one last happy memory of me before i evaporate into the jaws of oblivion.

Writing this letter with my left and right arms seething in unrelenting throes of agony from the self inflicted lacerations i executed last night in a final attempt to feel my pain to assuage the black dog monster that exists in the recesses of my fractured psyche. All to no avail i still fervently want death the masochistic act had on countless moments prevented me from attempting suicide. Now my condition has metastasised into this last stage depression no turning back no hope or desire for redemption I’m going to die. Cutting deep into my forearm with a deadly blade of glass to ravage and permanently scar my arms the only method i can express my inarticulate sorry to the world. It’s how i remind myself my dire mental state despite my propensity for self mutilation I obscure my wounds from all those who i come into contact with. Wearing long sleeved shirts and thick coats when i venture outside. The shame of my untreated illness precludes me from revealing my wounds to anybody.

Today though with my soul being submerged in the floods waters of despair i hark back to my mums suicide her perennial battle with depression. Her inclination to hide to deny to adopt a brave exterior masking the emotional torture that was eating her up on the inside. Shortly before i wrote this suicide letter i read with tears in my eyes my mums suicide elegy where she elucidated the myriad of reasons why she killed herself at the tender age of 38 when i was just 13. She professed her love for me every year on the anniversary of her suicide I would read this verbose letter listening to her favourite pieces of classical music a night in which i pay respects to my mums life. For years I felt a mixture of anger and sadness now I fully comprehend her actions as i am about to undertake my suicide.

Oh mother and daddy please forgive me for my selfish action forgive me Ella and Rachel for my deleterious decision to die. I cant bare the pain of being me anymore my condition is deteriorating exponentially soon ill be unable to leave my flat or function in the workplace. The attacks the nightmares the self loathing the isolation the daily torment have all grown too onerous for me to prevail. I can see deaths beady eyes i can smell the pungent aroma of death i can feel the presence of the reaper as he entices me to drift from the world of the living into the land of the dead. There’s nothing left for me here on earth but crushing boredom emptiness and a long life of loneliness i cant break the chains and bars of my mental illness. The only freedom from the torment is the sweet liberation of death. There’s no future no highway to traverse no reason to be no hope of love.

The Wedding

The Morning

Its 8:00 am i have awoken at a ungodly early hour on a clement august Saturday in my old bed in my old house on this supposedly momentous day. Its the day of my fathers wedding day his second wedding nearly 10 years since the traumatic suicide of my mum. 10 years ago my mum killed herself in this same house me and daddy discovered her hanging from a light fixture in the living room. I can still smell the pungent odour of death and despair in our haunted living room.

Today though is a happy joyous occasion for my father or daddy as i affectingly call him. Its a ecstatic day for daddy who after years of withering away in loneliness after years of being stricken with grief has found love. I am happy for him though my fractured neurotic mind is laden with negative emotions. For weeks months years I’ve been severely depressed to the point of seriously contemplating suicide. I decided in my self indulgent self obsessed mind to kill myself approximately several weeks following this wedding. I don’t want to infringe or in any way despoil daddy’s happiness. Today is also on top of the severe suicidal depression this wedding day for months and weeks has been filling me with panic inducing anxiety. I am cursed with a untreated social anxiety disorder which means i eschew public events such as wedding birthdays or the majority of social functions in favour of being alone in the enclave of my humble abode. Hence this wedding has been giving me vexation for weeks i cant forgo attending my fathers second wedding what will family and friends say. I have to hide my anxiety my melancholic proclivities for an entire day and hope and pray that I don’t suffer a harrowing panic attack. Fortunately I haven’t been asked to speak in the post wedding reception so that relive is alleviating my anxiety.

I am horizontal nervously tucked inside my old black gothic duvet covers not wanting to vamoose from the cosy warmth of old duvet. Last night I slept maybe an hour of sleep due to all the acute anxiety that’s been building up for weeks reached a fever pitch last night as I became cognisant of the torture of attending a wedding. A day of unrelenting anxiety having awkward conversations with distant relations having to hide my sadness my deleterious anxiety. Last night my hands were shacking furiously i kept tapping my fingers against the palm of my hands then scratching my legs in a peculiar manner to soothe my stress. Totally unable to fall asleep just being asphyxiated with worry with the fear of a panic attack. I don’t want to reveal my social phobia its why i have reluctantly attended this wedding. I am elated at my father finding love in his early 50’s i want him to live a long happy enriching existence the kind of life i will never experience. However the joy is negated by the tsunami of dysphoria and angst that circulating in my impaired consciousness.

I hear the distant echoes of my father his best man his life long friend Stephen getting ready for the wedding stephe stayed. Today though I’m going to be suffocated with a assortment of humans its going to be pure hell a day trapped in purgatory.

I gaze intensely at the familiar surroundings of my old room with my single bed childhood bed. This room hasn’t been transformed into a office daddy has preserved it perfectly. Has quiet sentimental character meant he diligently preserved my room as a memento of my childhood. The posters of my favourite bands and literary heroes were decorated throughout my room. Posters of joy division, Kate Bush Virginia Woolf and Sylvia Plath were plastered over the magnolia painted walls. I stared for hours at these posters with melancholic eyes on this celebration of the sacred institution of marriage and love.

Travelling back to my hometown staying in my suburban house spending extensive time with my father hasn’t dissuaded me from my plan to kill myself. The wedding though has delayed the inevitable suicide none of the exaltation of love would persuade me to stay alive i want death I want to end the torture of being a twenty something being afflicted with depression. In my pink silky jimjams with my legs shacking vehemently i am now ready to get out off my old single bed.

With trepidation I remove the black pristine duvet now i sit upright on the edge of my bed. Spending at least half an hour perusing my phone looking at my twitter feed needing a temporary distraction. I watch an array of entertaining videos on YouTube to distract me from the nightmare of attending a wedding. Putting down my distraction device i use as a crutch when I’m trapped in uncomfortable unfamiliar terrifying social scenarios. I stand on my two hind legs and make my bed making sure my bed looks immaculate. This learned fastidious habit is a way of abating the dysmorphia the restlessness of my abnormal personality. Then after several minutes of assiduously making my bed i saunter over to the vacant bathroom to brush my unsightly teeth and wash my pallid face. Before i venture downstairs to eat a paltry breakfast meal if i can handle eating with a million thoughts pulsating round my emaciated body. I brush wearily with my new fangled electric toothbrush. All the while averting my gaze from the dreaded unforgiving bathroom mirror. Then i wash my face by applying a soaked flannel to my face. This act washes away the cobwebs from my mind i feel fully awake before i apply a exfoliant that removes the grease the muck the scum from my visage. I wash again as my face is tingling as its revitalised after another sleepless night. Now i can venture downstairs to confabulate with my daddy and his best man Philip whilst satiating our appetites with toast and coffee.

Wearing my light pink dressing gown i saunter wearily into the living room area where my dad best friend best man Steven is sipping his mug of pipping hot coffee and tentatively eating a round of lightly toasted white bread. I sit opposite Stephen acknowledge him with a cursory hello he responds promptly putting down his coffee and replying in his characteristic effusive polite manner “ Good morning Aria” . I responded saying I’m fine hoping to hide my anxiety at being forced to spending an entire day with strangers distant relations and close family members.

The disquiet was rising up inside of me it felt like a nauseas sensation a feeling of dread having to mask my various mental illnesses. Having to disguise my severe depression being judged in a public setting having all these astringent eyes judging my unsightly homely appearance. The worst aspect of attending my dads second wedding is having my picture recorded for posterity seeing my grotesque image on Facebook on Instagram the horror of viewing my repugnant gnarled smile surrounded by family members. On the other hand i am vehemently happy for my dad that he had found happiness after almost a decade after mum had killed herself. The anxiety the depression i was hampered with was threatening to negate the joy of seeing my dad take a sacred momentous commitment at the ripe age of 52. Despite my depression that had metastasised into a late stage depression i was elated to see my dad have a second crack at love. Deferring my plans to commit suicide live on my poorly viewed YouTube channel until my dad had completed his wedding and subsequent honeymoon to the lake district with his luscious wife Olivia. For months i had been ruminating in my fractured mind on whether or not to end my life at the tender age of 22. Last week i suffered another harrowing panic attack on the journey home from work. This latest attack I incurred had convinced me to end my life there’s no hope I’m cant be rescued from this plummeting into the abyss I don’t want to be saved.

With my drowsy eye i survey the familiar setting of my childhood home living room with all the happily and emotionally scarring memories that are conjured up just sitting surveying the familiar scene that’s barely changed since i moved out to seek my fortune in a inhospitable world. The mantle piece with the display of a array of family photographs of my mum my dads family still remained displayed. There was though the new fangled technology of the hd lcd tv this oppressively colossal entertainment located in the corner of the living room. I sat nervously on the far end making staid small talk with Stephen whilst my dad made his breakfast. He thrusted his head from the kitchen to enquire whether I wanted a round of toast and a cup of coffee. I said yes needing a warm beverage and a light breakfast to palliate the nerves pulsating in my emaciated body. My dad entered the living room quarters gently handed me the toast and coffee combo than sat down in his antique lounge chair which he sat in his role as patriarch.

Dad and his life long best friend sat opposite me looking bedraggled unkempt and noticeably hungover from a poorly judged night of excessive consumption of lager and sprits. I spent the evening socialising with my step mother her cavalcade of middle aged rambunctious friends and my aunt Emma my cousin Rachel my childhood best friend. Despite my acute social anxiety my late stage depression i enjoyed the evening festivities its was of the last chances to enjoy the bliss of alcohol and the sublimity of convivial human interaction whilst intoxicated. To be reacquainted with Rachel to be in the presence of her intoxicating effervescent personality to be embraced by her to catch up reminisce gave me a momentary night of joy. To laugh to have my anxieties abated for a evening reminded me of the joy of friendship but it didn’t dissuade me from carrying out my ruinous plans to end my life live on my YouTube channel.

Sitting nervously munching on my toast tentatively sipping my coffee whilst the tv blared out the news my dad punctured the awkward silence “ We need to be ready to leave for the church around 10 your aunty Emma and Rachel will here soon”

I responded “ okay dad i will be in the shower after I’ve finished my toast. You and Stephen look like you had a late night last night”

My dad and stephen looking disheveled in their gowns responded with a wry simpering laugh. The atmosphere was permeated with a unspoken excitement at my dad getting remarried i was nervous for him and overcome with dread at the idea of spending an entire day with virtual strangers. I dreaded the possibility of being afflicted with another traumatic panic attack. I was going to take my Ventolin inhaler as cover if i suffered the public humiliation of a panic attack. voraciously I devoured my meagre breakfast wanting to get out of my morning attire into my exorbitantly expensive blue dress my dad paid for. I got up declared my intention to have a shower as i was a women who badly needed to wash my hair my body apply my war paint for the long torturous day of protracted social interaction. “ Alright I’m taking a shower” i exclaim as i meander up the wooden hills to the shower.

As i vacate the tension of the living I breathe a sigh of relief as the anxiety assuaged slightly. Getting ready cleaning all the scum and filth from my rancid body will be a few moments of interrupted solitary serenity in a day that feels like purgatory. Even sitting with my father his extroverted but uncharacteristically quiet best man Stephen was unbearably anxiety inducing. I enter the bathroom remove the various items of clothing assiduously making sure I don’t catch my hideous naked body in the mirror averting my gaze from the bathroom mirror above the bathroom sink. My body shivers i dare not look down at my scrawny figure. I enter the shower feel the bliss of the shower water hit my ashen face. The cobwebs the early morning languidness is washed away as i am invigorated by the showier water applying the shower gel the shampoo and conditioner to my dark brown damaged hair. I am cleansed awoken from my zombie like state my cascading wild soaked hair is half down my back in my eyes. I leave the shower diligently making sure to not let the water overflow onto on the pristine marble floor. I rush to the sink brushing my ragged English teeth that I will be forced today to expose my teeth to smile to project a fake image of happiness. Brushing my teeth keeping my eyes fixed on the tap not wanting to catch a glimpse of my grim face. My knees are incessantly shaking i keep scratching my arm with my left arm the disquiet is intensifying as the minutes pass as the wedding event draws nearer. Vacating the bathroom i bellow out and pronounce “I’m finished’.

Now I’m in my room able to play some serene cello music to mitigate the agita that’s in my body. My stomach rumbles my hands cant stop twitching shaking tapping scratching my arms. I sitting on the edge of the bed in a paralysed state of unease with a crimson luxurious towel wrapped around my emaciated featureless body. My hair is incrementally drying i plug in the hairdryer i diligently dry my hair then plug in the straightener to elongate my hair ironing out any split ends. Then I braved the hell of the mirror to inspect my hair it looked presentable now i apply my war paint putting on the emerald green eye liner the seductive red lipstick to give my face a modicum of attractiveness. My blemishes my porcelain skin was masked by carefully smearing on the foundation. One last time i would peer into the mirror i grimaced in horror despite the makeup the immaculate condition of my hair at my visage. Now for the Olympian task of adorning my body in the light blue dress bought by my daddy especially for this special monumental day. I’m not a buxom voluptuous women hence putting on this dress required minimal effort. Now i sat on my old desk with a sadness in my eye reminiscing on the joyous times spent In this house. All the tears that were shed in this room all the surreptitious acts of self harm. The mirror faced downwards i sat waiting for my aunt Emma and her daughter these effervescent extroverts who would provide a shield for my social foibles.

Sitting nervously peering outside with Lana del Rey booming into my ears with my Bluetooth headphones. I can hear the distant echoes of my dad getting ready the sounds of the shower outside dogs are barking cars race past my window i wait for the dreaded beginning of a long hard day of a celebration of love. A experience i will never enjoy for myself never being able to fall in love or get married. Having to plaster on this false persona of happiness having to mask my inner psychological torment.

Then finally after patiently waiting on my old writing desk i see my aunty my uncle and her vivacious daughter have arrived in the vehicle i will be accompanying them to the church for the ceremony. They look immaculate decked out in their elegant wedding attire. Especially Rachel who’s wearing a sapphire blue dress that shows off her ample curves. Rachel’s body her personality is the polar opposite of my introverted reserved personality i envy her confidence her beauty. I amble downstairs to greet the wedding guests who kindly are taking me with them whilst my dad and Stephen are going in the wedding Mercedes . I see Rachel with a beaming majestic smile she greets hugs me tightly and bestows me with a deluge of compliments on my dress my appearance my hair. In my paranoid self loathing mind I know she’s lying but it’s white lies of love. Rachel isn’t only my cousin she was my best friend form my childhood. At my mothers funeral she was a shoulder I cried a profusion of tears on. Her hugs are the best to have my body wrapped around her better than any consciousness altering psychoactive drug. Then it’s Susan turn my buxom aunty who hugs effusively kissing me on the cheek. You look divine my aunty proclaims I respond “ Thank you aunty you are looking beautiful”

We sit in the living room exchanging small talk Rachel sits next to me eliciting rare howls of unbridled laughter from my mouth. I wish the rest of the day could be like this sharing exquisite conversation with charming family members. We wait for the men to descend downstairs decked out in their matching light blue wedding suits. Stephen arrives first greeting my uncle with a rambunctious handshake and painting a passionate kiss on my aunty and Rachel’s cheek in his excitable nature. Then my dad arrives in his flawless suit his hair combed. Eyes gleaming with nervous anticipation he greets the wedding attendees. My aunty directs the cavalcade to the cars to leave for the wedding forthwith. It’s now 11am the commencement of the traditional wedding ceremony is a mere hour away. My knees and hands are fervently trembling with excitement at seeing my father happy and the terror of attending a prolonged social gathering. Having to hide my disorder that i kept a secret from even my daddy a disorder that developed in the aftermath of my mothers suicide.

The wedding party exits my childhood suburban home for the short journey to the cavernous church. The same church where i was baptised where my mothers funeral was held. My stomach rumbles a indication of the stress pulsating in my body i try to project a sanguine aura hoping to camouflage my social phobia. No heavy breathing just look happy is the mantra I say to myself. We’re in our cars traversing expeditiously to the church hoping to miss any Saturday traffic. I travel with my aunty and uncle my cousin Rachel sitting quietly in the back seat looking forlornly at the idyllic scenery of my hometown on this clement July day. Radio 3 plays on the car radio we listen to an array of awe inspiring classical music ranging from Beethoven to Strauss putting me in the mood for the wedding. Rachel bemoans the choice of music wanting a more contemporary selection of music for the journey to the church but my aunt Susan refuses to acquiesce to her incessant vociferous demands to alter the station to radio 1 Please mum change the station she says sitting in her sapphire dress as i glance at her with envious eyes knowing I will never be that beautiful. I soak in every moment today trying to enjoy the occasion realising i will never speak interact with these people again. I hide the sadness in my mask the walls of my fractured mind remain impregnable. Nobody is cognisant of my tortured mental state no family member has an inkling that i suffer from a pernicious anxiety disorder or that in a couple if weeks i plan to kill myself.

Rachel puts her left arm around my slender neck and whispers in my ear “ I’ve missed you we only see each other at Christmas we should meet up for a night out in London or Cambridge”

I reply hiding my reticence almost blushing “ sure you should texted me I’d love to arrange a night out”

I felt disgusted with myself lying so brazenly but what could i say I’m sorry Rachel I’m severely depressed i suffer from habitual panic attacks right now I’m tormented with dread at attending a wedding and in a few weeks due to the hell of being me i plan to commit suicide. I muster a simpering smile and feel this sadness and warmth permeate my body. The sadness of my condition with my late stage depression and the warmth of a rare moment of human contact to have somebody to touch my body. We are so close to the majestic church the scene for the seminal tragic events in my childhood which was blighted by a singular tragedy. It still looks magnificent this edifice of god this symbol of middle England respectability where my dads love for Olivia will be consecrated under the house of god. We have arrived at this architectural masterpiece this perpendicular stone building with stained glass windows that portray the teachings and life of Jesus Christ.

My heart starts to race feel the sweat on my brow I diligently attempt to conceal the storm clouds of anxiety swirling fermenting in my stomach in my mind as i see a crowd of wedding attendees congregate outside the church. We pull up get out right behind my dads wedding Mercedes that will transport him and Olivia to the hotel wedding reception. I get up walk around nervously still masking my social phobia i see an array of familiar family members decked out in a pristine wedding suits and the women wearing wedding dresses a true polychromatic display of colours. I see aunties distant cousins old friends of my dad relatives I haven’t seen for years. I’m forced into awkward small talk with distant relatives putting on this plastic veneer smiling trying to hide my hatred of social gatherings trying not to sweat or indicate I’m in any stress. We greet each other in these fake preordained social gestures the hug the kiss the facile small talk I want today to go away i carve the isolation of my flat.

THE Wedding Ceremony

The crowd starts to move inside the vast awe inspiring Church of England church that 23 years previously my mum and dad were wed in a sacred traditional religious ceremony. We are ushered inside by the best man who ebulliently persuades the guests to take their seats. I slowly meander inside the church walking in tandem with my aunty and Rachel wanting to be invisible feeling all these wolfs eyes open up privately berating my dress my repugnant body. The paranoia intensifies this is only the beginning of the hell that awaits me today. I cant escape my demons these black dogs of anxiety and self loathing are growing louder as i amble towards the front row in my light blue dress. A dress that’s revealing showing off my arms my body I usually drape my body in gothic clothing that hides my glaring physical imperfections. Due to me being forced to wear a wedding garment i have refrained from self harm for several months even though I’m severely depressed but cant let the wedding congregation be aware of my hidden proclivity to cut myself.

I’m in the front row sitting with Rachel with my aunt Susan my uncle Steve. The guest are waiting with baited breathe for the arrival of the luscious bride and we can commence the ceremony. I’m staring at the altar the ornate majestic stained glass religious motifs thinking i used to believe in this religious bullshit. God and religion has forsaken me in my hour of need I wander the valley of darkness abandoned by god becoming increasingly cognisant that religion that a just universe is a fallacy. Still when i questioned on religion outside the church i speak insincerely with reverence on god and the teachings of Jesus Christ. Whilst i wait for the bride to appear my wandering neurotic eyes circulate the audience i stare at the brides section. See a assemblage of strangers many young alluring photogenic people with gleaming iridescent smiles with personality that radiate joy a stark contrast to my melancholic suicidal personality. Stephen is standing with my dad in the centre below the altar where the service will be conduced. The wise old vicar is assiduously preparing himself for the ceremony making final preparations. Then it begins I turn my head to the rear of the church and see Olivia adorned in a beguiling wedding gown with her septuagenarian father linking her giving her away. The traditional wedding music reverberates in the vast church the organist playing the organ with aplomb. I don’t know how to feel there’s just the pangs of sadness a gnarling emptiness in the pit of my stomach as i see the bride approach my father. I survey the wedding guest they are beaming with ecstatic joy smiling i try adopt their serene facial expressions. No frowning no sullen expression just plaster a halcyon image on my porcelain face.

Then it commences the priest inaugurates the service my dad and his prospective wife sit in chairs below the altar. The vicar delivers the same wedding service no diveating from a standard Church of England wedding liturgy. The oration is interspersed with Christian hymns that i mutter barely singing at all. Rachel a avowed Christian with a resolute conviction in god sings with passion that i cannot match. Hearing the hymns seeing those words having the priest recite passages from the bible that were pertinent to this special event made my heart well up with a hollow of despair. The idea of god the humanitarian altruistic preachings of Jesus gave me solace in dark times. Religion was a clutch a blinding light that assuaged my depression now my faith has evaporated into dust i hear these words in a church its a crushing emptiness. I feel such a fraud carrying on the pretence that I’m still a devout believer in god. All the inner turmoil in my mind the loss of faith the abject despair is hidden I maintain the mask obscuring my crippling afflictions never letting the veneer slip for a second.

The sermon continues songs are played with rapture i attempt to remain calm the anxiety is their like a virus infecting me. However not having to converse to exist in still state watching observing the ceremony. I have practised in the depths of my mind my joyous face when my dad gets remarried. Like a award nominee diligently preparing the serene expression to hide the disquiet i have to smile my eyes need to sparkle with unbridled elation at witnessing my dad reentering the bond of marriage. The final hymn is sung filled with lyrics in my adolescence i would find profound even moved to tears now its leaves me bereft of feeling to sing these meaningless Christian hymns that eulogise god. The service reaches the apex as the vicar eloquently recites the scared marriage vows there’s a deafening silence that resounds in the hollowed church. He loudly proclaims do the bride do you take this man to be your husband in through sickness and in health for richer for poorer to love to cherish until death Olivia calmly replies i do as she looks intensely into my dads eyes. The vicar recites the identical vows to my dad he responded echoing Olivia words of i do then the vicar said with vigour “ i now pronounce you man and wife” . My dad placed the demure ring on olivias slender index finger. Then the wedding congregation burst into a spontaneous rapturous applause cheering and hooting i felt nothing even in that moment just a sick emptiness. My inner torment was incongruous with the disingenuous radiating smile i felt like a game show hostess with a plastic smile plastered on my unsightly face. As the service concluded i walked over to Olivia who looked resplendent in her immaculate pure white gown she embraced me with fervour hugging me tightly. Her deep blue ocean eyes wet from the immensity of getting married at last. I caught the dry reserved eyes of my dad we hugged locking arms in the same church mums funeral service was conducted still in my soul there is the pangs of numbness.

Gradually the wedding attendees leave the majestic breathtaking ambience of the c of e church to wait outside making small talk as they made travel plans for the post wedding reception. It would be held in 10 miles away in a luxury hotel. My dad and my now step mum would stay the night in the hotel where the reception and exuberant wedding party would be held. I planned to travel with my aunty Susan uncle Steve and effusive cousin Rachel for the hell of the wedding reception. Outside though I introduced myself to an array of distant relations strangers beguiling young men who showed a interest in me. This was the beginning of my long nightmare surviving somehow the ordeal of day of socialising without a panic attack. Nerves were exacerbating as i was able to portray a semblance of normality in the excruciating uncomfortable atmosphere of outside. I felt a vice gripping my chest wolfs in my head were barking at me a torrent of negativity vibrated in my aching bones. After a half an hour of dawdling among staid conversation with virtual strangers we left for the next level of hell the reception. Rachel grabbed my arm “ come on lets go” she exclaimed. Was so aware of my awkwardness i posited maybe the mask was slipping I glimpsed into her rosy cheek face smiling baring my ravaged English teeth trying to convey a aura of serenity hoping to belie the anxiety that lurked beneath the surface

A short uneventful journey followed as I prepared myself for the torture of hours upon hours of concentrated unabated anxiety. I need a drug to soothe my fractured mind a palliative to mitigate my interminable stress. I need to consume a profusion of alcohol posthaste to calm me. Usually on the sporadic instances i venture outside with my sparse tribe of cohorts I would smoke a joint of cannabis to alleviate my social phobia. Getting high enables me to function to have conversations to not collapse into a ball on the ground. Today in the mid afternoon i desperately require wine to calm me. We arrive at the picturesque hotel surrounded by lush English countryside on this idyllic English summer day. Before we sit down for the reception where we will satiate our ravenous appetite for food and alcohol is the laborious task of taking the wedding photographs. All the crowd is gathered on the outside of the hotel a green field a perfect setting for the wedding photographs to be conducted. My mouth salivating at the prospect of dulling my senses of soothing my nervous disposition. My stomach growls like a angry wolf my fingers frantically tap against my palm a indication of growing mental discomfort.

The Wedding Reception

In the sea of humanity people decked out in their fineries i see a familiar face from the past. Beatrice my mums best friends is their clad in a exquisite pink dress with her husband pat. Beatrice was invited to the reception and party by my dad they in the ensuing years since my mum died have kept in touch a friendship bonded by this harrowing tragedy. Beatrice sees me its been several years since we last met her perfume aroma overpowers my senses. Our eyes meet on the green field “aunt Beatrice” i bellow out in a rare moment of childlike exuberance we embrace hugging as my slender body is pulled into the orbit of her Beatrices warm buxom body. I hold back the tears trying to regain my composure whilst aunt Beatrice (not my real aunty but a affectionate title my mum and I bestowed upon her) is overwhelmed with joy at seeing me. She remarks “ so glad to see you aria what a splendid day for a wedding. Anyway how are you are you happy I hear you’re found a job in publishing”

I gaze intently into her green emerald eyes that twinkle and sparkle with charisma with humanity in her eyes i see mum. Memories of my childhood are conjured up in that moment as we share thoughts of our past future. I notice her peering into my eyes she’s tunnelling into my soul making me feel vulnerable. I respond laconically “ fine aunty Beatrice I’m a proof reader” Beatrice nods in approval with her crimson lips her rich middle aged middle class aroma that invokes vivid memories of my childhood. There’s a unspoken sadness of mums tragic demise we never mention her in this brief conversation but i can see the melancholy in her sparkling radiating eyes. My guard is down around her and pat her reserved husband a paranoia overcome me is she aware of my crippling depression. I beam out a ebullient smile to put her off the scent.

The crowd is gathered on the grassy plain whilst the animated photographer directs the guests deciding the arrangement of the photos. All of my dads family packed in like sardines to smile I shudder in horror at baring my ravaged neglected teeth but what the hell I’ll be dead in a couple weeks anyway. My nerves are wrecking my brain having my homely appearance judged by the camera and the surrounding audience. Then I breathe a huge sigh of relief its olivias family who will have to face the camera i saunter away to converse with a assortment of twenty somethings and adolescents who have congregated behind the buoyant photographer. I speak with a Rachel with a cast of strangers distant friends relations of Olivia large family. The witty interactions eases my overwhelming sense of dread. The sun is beaming on our faces my porcelain complexion is blinded by the sun i abscond into the shadows wanting to maintain my ghostlike skin tone. Me and Rachel ask the photographer is there any more photos a few more he politely responds. The big one capturing the enter wedding audience and a photo of my dad and me which my dad vociferously demanded. I wander to my dad to take a final photograph of us together. I think in that moment will he holding this photo as he griefs my death. I muster a simpering smile as my dad holds my slender waist the mask never slips I maintain a fake plastic smile.

After the boredom the torture of being photographed is the reception the parade of wedding toasts the delectable dinner and voracious consumption of alcohol can commence. The attendees converged in the function room in this opulent setting. A sea of white tables decorated with a sublime arrangements of bespoke flowers that emitted a beguiling sensuous aroma that soothed my terror. I noticed the immaculate wooden floor the would be transformed into a dance floor where relatives would embarrass themselves later in the evening. Their was no food yet laid on the table but a collection of the finest wines chilled was enticing me begging to be devoured. My table was adjacent to the top table where the bride the groom (my dad) were seated with the best man the bridesmaid. Whilst i sat with my aunty my cousin Rachel my uncle olivias mum and dad made up the seating for our table. Me and Rachel with eyes gleaming on the chilled white. The anxiety was intensifying as the day progressed it’s this vexatious white noise that grows more onerous throughout these social gatherings. My acute social anxiety is like radiation infecting my organs my ability to function i need a sedative to offset the trauma i will endure over the following hours. I guzzle the first glass of wine my senses are spinning in a buzzed haze. My hands still incessantly twitching underneath the table hiding as always my pathological anxiety disorder. I broke the ice with olivias convivial parents thanks to the copious amounts of red and white wine me and Rachel drank.

Then before the delectable culinary feast came the selection of speeches. During this time i was able to breathe freely maintaining a tolerable stress level. No need to interact just plaster a smiling veneer of serenity laughing at appropriate times pretending to be happy when on the inside i was numb filled with lament at my wretched mental state. My dad spoke briefly and awkwardly not used to public speaking but he delivered a moving elucidation of love showering olivia with affection. He made a fleeting remark about his first wife my mum spoke of the devastation bringing the wedding guests to tears as i remained stoic. I cried tears for my mum in isolation for years eschewing public displays of grief. Still after that impassioned toast my eyes were on fire wanting to shed tears I felt dead on the onside knowing that in a few weeks I’d be dead. My dad would probably deliver another emotive lamenting speech at my eulogy. After my dads powerful erudite veneration of love and marriage came olivia jovial heartwarming humorous toast that lightened the mood in the wedding reception. Then her bridesmaid her best friend Mary who regaled us with anecdotes from olivia’s past. This was the best part of this torturous day when i could guzzle down my gullet glass after glass of wine and listen without the trial of enforced social interaction. The finest speech was saved for last as Stephen delivered a rambunctious painfully funny toast. He talk at length at riotous times in their early twenties he agin like my dad spoke of my mum the beauty of her the tragedy and finding the miracle of love once again. Just like my dads potent toast i had bite my lip to quell a waterfall of emotion from cascading down my face. I came into this wedding knowing i wanted to kill myself to give my dad one last positive memory of me before I evaporated into the jaws of oblivion. I came to this wedding with the intention of putting on a mask of serenity to obscure my inner torture. Hearing stories of my dads discovering happiness hearing this powerful anecdotes of my mum bought home the reality of why my mum killed herself. Hearing a collection of emotive humorous toasts didn’t dissuade me from executing my plan to end my life. I felt this feelings of deadness on the inside i was happy my dad rekindles the flickering lights of love but I wanted death. The pain of existing the hell of my anxiety was too intense it felt like a burning fire in the pit of my stomach that couldn’t be extinguished.

After the speeches I satiated my ravenous appetite with a sumptuous culinary feast. A three course caloric banquet complemented with bottles of soothing red and white wine. The nerves were slightly assuaged by the alcoholic binge me and Rachel had undertaken. This event served as a rekindling of our friendship which sadly had drifted apart as we took alternate paths into higher education. Rachel studying to be a teacher in London whilst I read English at Cambridge with the lofty ambition of becoming a eminent novelist a dream that I realised would never be attained. The main course was a traditional English meal with a succulent lamb served with a bouquet of green vegetables and mouthwatering gravy. Then came a smorgasbord of delectable desert options i like Rachel opted for hot apple pie with custard to soak up the profusion of wine that was consumed. My now i was considerably drunk my body swayed from side to side but I tried to retain my reserved demeanour to appear sober. The alcohol enabled me too alleviate my angst but infused an acute self consciousness seeing all these eyes on me with their castigating sneering faces looking down on me. I needed the alcohol with my fragile psychological constitution to survive this event to get through it without a panic attack without a public humiliation. I was terrified of a panic attack happening in this wedding having my disorder being revealed. I bought my ventolin inhaler to give me a excuse as why i would be hyperventilating. My asthma was the perfect foil to prevent my embarrassing social phobia from being discovered.

The banquet had concluded the toasts that venerated the sacred institution of marriage had been delivered now in the mid afternoon there was a lull in the festivities. The reception ended it was a few hours before the raucous party with the dance floor the DJ the music would begin. The wedding attendees relocated to outside in the idyllic picturesque English scene. With the sunsetting the sublime picturesque English countryside panorama in full view. I had purchased a round of mouthwatering cider for Rachel my aunty my dad and my new step mum olivia we sat admiring the view enjoying the occasion. My mind still racing with anxiety as I restless fidgeted couldn’t control my fingers that tapped that scratched the palms of my hand. I smiled at olivia this vision of beauty. Olivia with her sparkling eyes lost in my dad with her rosy cheeks with heavenly gaze was a vision of happiness that I would never achieve in my life. My dad in his bespoke dark blue suit with a tranquil sanguine expression on his middle aged face. We sipped the ice cold cider i saw a ocean of human playing on the green sitting around on the tables luxuriating in the conversation in the picture perfect scenery. I remarked in my tipsy mind “ that was an amazing ceremony dad”

My father with a wry smile simple said “ thank you”

I again commented on olivias beautiful dress “ you look gorgeous in today olivia”

Olivia with her sunny disposition got up kissed me on the forehead and gave me a passionate hug and whispered in my ear “ I’m glad you’re my new step daughter”

I bravely held back the tears i hoped when I’m gone those would be rare moments that i would be fondly remembered.

Myself and Rachel extracted ourselves from the family pack and meandered upon the green talking laughing and pointing out the 2 divine male creatures that were coquettishly flirting with us. These twenty somethings were friends of olivias younger brother Philip. They were invited to the reception and party but didn’t attend the main wedding ceremony. These creatures descended from heaven one a men called tom wearing a light blue three piece suit with thick luscious dark brown hair and piercing ocean blue eyes that were gazing intensely at my direction. The other a ice cold blond called Derek wearing a burgundy suit. They approached us smiling without fear or artifice. I kept thinking why were they interested in me i can understand Rachel she’s this vivacious voluptuous charismatic younger women that exudes warmth and sexuality. I on the other hand am a repulsive boring nothing person a freak bereft of charm or beauty. As they flirted with us lavishing praise upon our outfits the words freak bitch ugly worthless circulating in my mind with the white noise the radiation of my anxiety growing more severe as our social intercourse advanced the i couldn’t contain my disquietude. My brow was submerged in a profusion of sweat my fingers underneath the table were scratching my palm i felt my breathing becoming irregular erratic. I made an excuse “ please excuse me i need to relieve myself in the ladies restroom” My comments were followed with a simpering group laughter. Rachel asked if i was alright “ i responded saying “ i fine just had too much wine at the reception”

I vigorously walked to the nearest toilet fearing the onset of a panic attack. I kept saying not now please god not here let the anxiety pass. These eyes were on me i was convinced they knew i was sick with my disorder. I couldn’t let this guise slip had to pretend to be a normal functioning adult not this women paralysed with a social impairing affliction and severe depression. Locked inside the cubicle rocking back and forth on my seat trying to control my breathing my body suddenly was overcome with anxiety i wipe tears from my cheek and blow my nose. I’m screaming on the inside wanting to get out wanting the safety of my isolated flat I’m scream in my fractured mind i fucking hate this i fucking want to die cant carry on living this way any longer. I stay ensconced in the tiny secluded enclave of the cubicle for nearly half an hour until Rachel appears knocking on the door enquiring about my health. I respond making up a plausible excuse blaming my peculiar behaviour on my asthma a airtight alibi. “ I fine Rachel just felt a tightness in my chest I’m feeling much better now”

The Party

Several hours have passed since my minor anxiety attack in the ladies toilet. In the subsequent hours a abundance of alcohol was consumed. A array of delectable cocktails shorts wine were consumed by myself to mitigate the hell of this wedding and Rachel my social crutch who has enabled today to be tolerable. Despite her company I’ve had to isolate myself in the toilet when the terror of this wedding celebration was overwhelming. Now though its 9:00pm the DJ has set up his booth the dance floor is clear the crowd stand patiently waiting for the first dance. Rachel comes rushing over to me with a tray of shot drinks Derek tom and a assortment of intoxicated young adults with whom we’ve been socialising with grab a shot glass we devour the potent spirits down our gullets. Another hit of alcohol to numb the pain in my bones to inoculate myself from a critical panic attack. Then the bride and groom take to the dance floor for the customary first dance. My body is swaying after another hit of alcohol my daddy and his amour are standing in the centre of the floor waiting for the music to commence. It starts with as by Stevie wonder olivia and my dads private song they decided to inaugurate the party. The music started playing this euphoric ethereal ode to eternal love reverberated across the dance floor into my ears. I was hit with the terrifying sensation that I’d never have this emotion this ecstasy. That the rest of my forlorn adulthood is pain self loathing and extreme loneliness. My hands were visibly shacking like a freak I felt my bottom lip quiver i bit it to hold back the emotion. I wasn’t feeling this emotion for my dad but in my self absorption anguish was mourning my loveless wretched cursed life. The lovers danced awkwardly as the onlookers were transfixed beguiled by their love. I thought of how a normal person would act and adopted a countenance of blissful serenity. The torture lurking underneath by exterior was buried never to be revealed. Then in the dimmed lighting of the dance floor the song finished now the rapturous party could begin.

My body was sweating and shivering as the nervousness exacerbated despite the abundance of alcohol I imbibed. struggling to keep the ravenous wolfs of my fractured psyche from destroying me. The anxiety attack was imminent i breathed a long pensive breathe to settle my nerves. The dance floor was now teeming with rapturous intoxicated parties dancing to traditional wedding music i was standing nervously on the edge of the dance floor holding my glass my half drunk glass of Chardonnay. I surveyed the dance floor attempting to appear normal i saw at the DJ booth my dad talking to the wedding DJ. I was puzzled what information was he relaying to the DJ. Slowly my dad moved towards me he held my hand as the song dancing queen by ABBA had ended. He politely requested with a glazed serene expression in his dark brown eyes “do you want to have a dance with me”

I was shaken by this request it had been years since we last danced even before mum died. A rush of adrenaline surged through my body “ yes daddy i would love to”

Then he guided me onto the dance floor through the wedding cavalcade that had ascended onto the wooden makeshift dance floor. A familiar song began to play it was dreams by the cranberries the dream like ethereal voice of Dolores echoed on the dance floor. The cranberries was my mums favourite band it was their first dance it was a unsubtle poignant tribute to my mum. I clung to my dad as he slow danced to this powerful rock song. Vivid memories of mum flooded through my bleary consciousness i held my face against my dads shoulders as we awkwardly danced. The dimmed lights of the dance floor were on us i forget myself for a moment a cascade of suppressed emotions were bursting i tried to hold back the tears. With the music thunderous playing i sniffed i wiped a single tear on my dads creased shirt. All the tension the dread the hell of my abject mental state was forgotten in a 5 minute father and daughter dance. The closing minutes with the words you’re a dream to me hit me like a sledgehammer into my brain I realised this was one of the last moving memories me and my dad would share. As the song faded out my dad hugged me wrapping me around his warm arms. I felt a genuine human connection with my dad for the first time in years. Our frosty withdrawn father and daughter interconnection was melted away in a kind gesture in a dance. This powerful gesture won’t dissuade me from carrying out my suicide its a last happy memory we would share.

After the dance i drifted from the sweaty drunken bodies that converged in the dance floor and went for some much needed liquid refreshments. Knocking back a glass of coke i a shared it with tom the luscious vision of masculinity who engaged me in lengthy verbose conversations. He beckoned me onto the dance pit were young and old bedraggled bodies were gyrating their bodies. Swinging to the adrenaline inducing beats the DJ was playing. I danced with tom as his athletic adonis body bumped and grinded against my waif like figure. Rachel was close to me with her vivacious effusive personality bringing a smile to my face. She was dancing with Derek waves of pure light exuded from her body as i danced with tom.

Corrosive invisible radiation was permeating my body sending me lower my teeth rattled i was afraid to smile as i looked into toms eyes. The air was thick muggy steam coming from the pit all of sudden sharp acute shocks ran up my arm. I tried to maintain my composure to quell the avalanche of terror bubbling under my skin. My breathing grew more erratic i was almost hyperventilating still dancing through the pain. In my drunken stupor i was cognisant this was the Genesis of a severe panic attack. That the ordeal of this momentous social event the stress that I incurred throughout the day was erupting like lava from a volcano. It felt like a heart attack i ran from the sweaty smokey pit into the ladies toilets. My body wracked with dread of being humiliated of my disorder being discovered. I was still beset my waves of terror as i locked the toilet door. My sweaty inebriated body collapsed onto the floor. My arms shacking with the ferment of a panic attack. My head rocking back and forth on the floor as i tried to catch a breathe. In and out i huffed and puffed i want to die i want to die i repeated to myself. So fucking sick of feeling this way enduring this affliction hiding it living a double life. I’m in hell as a million terrifying thoughts circulated my beleaguered mind. So sick of this hell as buckets of despair ran down my face. My ashen face covered in snot in smeared makeup in tears. I assumed nobody had seen me run fanatically to the toilet I had been ensconced in the sanctuary of the cubicle for 10 minutes already planning my subterfuge to hide my attack. I will blame it on the abundance of alcohol i consumed today. I will say I felt nauseous had to flee to the toilet. I thinking this all the while as I lay on the floor still panting like a scared puppy wanting to be alone in my cosy secluded flat away from the nightmare of this wedding. A vigorous knock is on my door it’s a Rachel “ aria are you okay I haven’t seen you for ages”

I panic hold my composure “ yeah I’m fine Rach i just throwing up I’m okay now though”

Overcome by fear and loathing has she bought the excuse please don’t suspect I had a panic attack derived from a day of prolonged sustained socialising. I hold my breathe Rachel responds “ Okay as long as you’re alright its getting late i think will be soon heading back are you travelling with us”

“ yeah you mum is dropping me off at my old home I’ll be out in a jiffy”

Rachel left as I breathed a long sigh of relief gathering myself still the vicious words of self loathing were on my mind. Freak ugly bitch like pieces of broken glass eviscerating my fragile self confidence. I had to exit the fortress of my cubicle I had been fixed on the floor for almost an hour in a paralysed anguished state. I dared not to see my repugnant image in the mirror i ambled out of the toilet onto the reception room where a sparse group of dedicated dancers were still dancing into the early hours. I just wanted to be home faraway from this place. I identified Rachel who was talking with Derek and tom by the bar my dad was chatting with Olivia and Stephen i couldn’t discern my aunty and uncle who’s job it was to escort me home they were probably outside vaping. I walked wearily to Rachel endeavouring to appear well hiding my trauma pushing it down never to disclose my attack. Derek and tom enquired about my prolonged absence i convincingly said i was overcome was sickness. They had bought the white lie never delving deeper i smiled to hide my pain laughing at their jokes. I had in the subsequent years in which my impairing condition had advanced deteriorating the quality of my life become a adroit liar like my mother a mastering the art of concealing my illness.

Derek and tom declared they had to be heading by now it was 2’o’clock in the morning we were all bleary eyed from the days excesses me and tom exchanged numbers made a solemn promise to contact him in the future for a date. Tom with his sultry red lips gave me a passionate kiss on my cracked haggard lips sexually energy raced through bodies then the two alluring males creatures left in their taxi we all waved goodbye. I made a promise I lied to his face even though contrary to logic he found me attractive i felt a shiittyiness in my body and soul. I just wanted home but felt obliged to hug distant relatives to make insincere salutations as we departed. My dad sauntered over to me gave me a passionate prolonged hug our bodies connecting for the last time never again would we meet. I held on tightly stopping myself from crying then let go as my dad with the exquisite Olivia made their way to their room as a married couple. Before they absconded Olivia hugged promising me we would get together in the not to distant future I politely agreed. I felt sick repulsed with myself fro lying to her angelic face. The couple departed for their room in the idyllic pristine hotel their was a few guest who had yet to leave. My aunt Emma had refrained from any drinking as she was the designated sober driver.

We left from the sweaty alcohol infused location to go home my old home. My body seething with anxiety still struggling to recover from another bout of anxiety. Hiding my illness under my drunken exultant exterior it was all a ruse to camouflage my inner hell. Even in the car with Rachel singing to the music in that metal machinery I wanted isolation wanting to cut myself to express my pain viscerally. Please let me be alone let my wallow in my misery without the constant strain of appearing normal happy instead of this fucked up adult ravaged by a untreated mental illness. We came to our old home a two bedroom semi detached house in Maidstone. I got out of the vehicle as my aunt Susan and Rachel escorted me into my old house. My aunty asked “ are you sure you don’t want to spend the night with us dear do you want us to pick you up in the morning”

“ No its alright aunty i have to leave early in the morning”

There was a awkward silence before she embarked me hugged tightly in a Vice like grip kissing me with her rouge lips on the cheek leaving a lipstick mark. Then Rachel who had been uncharacteristically quiet waiting to day goodbye in her sapphire dress with her rosy flushed face. Another hug another rare moment of human contact. She squeezed me tightly for over a minute we were locked in each other’s arms. I had a tumult of emotion surging in my body being aware we’d never speak again in person i was overcome with despair at this sad realisation. We unlocked from our embrace then Rachel and Susan exited from my old abode. I am staring forlornly at Rachel as they languidly get into the car my shy uncle seated in the front passenger seat. Closing the door closing the door on Rachel my best friends since i was 2 leaving behind family. I collapsed in a heap on the floor crying being free to express myself my body ravaged with anxiety able to physical manifest my panic my terror.

I slept in my old bed nostalgia sadness was the dual sensations i was imbued with. The next day I absconded in the wee early hours wanting to forsake the boredom the stress of family to be alone in my purgatory. Never again to speak to communicate in any medium with the attendees at my dads wedding including my dad. It would be 2 weeks until i meticulously planned to kill myself holding back the date until my dad had concluded his picturesque honeymoon in the Lake District.

Why I Self Harm

The sun is setting on a another sweltering July evening. I peer outside my window with my stoned eyes looking at another majestic picturesque sunset. The full spectrum of colours on display the yellows and reds inflame my mind as I’m standing glaring outside my bedroom window viewing the sublime evening panorama of a luscious summer sunset.

I’m feeling nervous as I prepare my body my anxiety laden mind to record another video in which I articulate to the world the trauma of being me. In this video I’m going to be elucidating in a short video why I cut myself why I have a peculiar tendency to lacerate my arm with broken pieces of glass. The sick pleasure this masochistic act gives me. Last night I performed this act in secret with my bedroom firmly locked to conceal my behaviour from my house mates.

I close my windows to cut out all the summer time noise pollution closing my black dusty stained curtains to create a perfect intimate ambience to facilitate the recording of this important video that will explain why I cut myself. I turn on my oriana floor lamp with the speciality crimson light bulbs that illuminates the room with the danger crimson colour. It’s a apropos colour to be used when I discuss my proclivity to self harm. I love this lamp love turning it on at night especially when I’m high all alone in my private alcove listening to exemplary meditative classical music. The colour red beguiles me it electrifies me sexually and emotionally it represents in the recesses of my consciousness danger and sexual bliss.

I survey my room look at my surroundings with see the Chester draws which I’ve made into a shrine a memorial of my dead mother. There’s a collection of my most cherished photographs of my mum her suicide note its stands as a daily reminder of her enduring memory I don’t want her to be forgotten don’t want to neglect to let all the joy all the love she bestowed upon me fade away. There’s the Chester draws with the collage of my mums images her suicide note with a crucifix hanging directly above as a testament to my faith in a just loving god and my belief in the compassionate teachings of Jesus Christ.

There’s a collection of posters plastered on my magnolia wall. Posters of my artistic and literary hero’s a joy division poster a Lana deal Rey poster a image of Virginia Woolf and Sylvia Plath my favourite poet. Also there’s a art print of starry night above my bed. These posters that dot my room give me hope they inspire me to write passionate poems and short stories. On my black door is a iconic video poster of the last of us my favourite video game that brought me to tears on several moments as I played this seminal immersive video game. Next to my single bed with my black duvet with a white flowery pattern is a old fashioned bookshelf with a multitude of exemplary novels and poetry collections to satiate my voracious appetite for reading. By the other side of my bed is my Chester draw a shrine I’ve erected as a monument to my mums memory. On the opposite side of my bed is the tv unit my flat screen tv my PS4 my blue gaming chair with its leather upholstery.

This is my room which is emblazoned in crimson from my lamp. It’s a stiflingly hot day as my body is dripping in sweat it’s almost unbearable but I’m desperate to record this video to delineate why I cut myself the sick pleasure this nighttime self harm produces. I look at my fresh self inflicted wounds which I treated this morning with liberal doses of disinfectant. Even with my body intoxicated with cannabis and a variety of potent painkillers I am in excoriating pain. I touch the deep cuts I am in pangs of agony just to lightly touch these wounds. For this video I’m going to be bearing my arms revealing my lacerations showing off some skin to the world being completely vulnerable to my YouTube audience.

I’ve laid out my causal attire i will be adorning my skinny body for this latest video. A slender sleeveless black joy division T-shirt with the unknown pleasures album cover. My favourite rock band who’s melancholic somber post punk music has given me many hours of solace mitigating my suicidal thoughts. I wont though be bearing my Legs I’m wearing skin tight black jeans to preserve my modesty. My acute body dysmorphia precludes me from parading my scrawny unsightly legs. The time is right I need to record this video forthwith due to the torturous heat no air conditioning windows firmly closed entrapping the heat in my room.

I find the act of breathing onerous as the heat the excitement of talking about why I self harm overwhelms me. I have to law down for several minutes on my bed to avert a full blown panic attack. The oppressive heat is preventing me from commencing my short video. I take several hits form my cannabis laced bong in a effort to assuage my anxiety to calm my nerves. The cannabis hits me hard once again elevating to a new stratosphere of consciousness a plain where I can lucidly and effusively talk about my self harm. Then I stand up with my fingers tapping incessantly against my palms a symptom of my anxiety disorder. I wipe the beads of sweat from my face now I can begin the process. I’m recording a low resolution video on iPad camera to be edited uploaded onto my YouTube channel. The iPad is positioned on the top of my bookshelf I’m standing sweating profusely and my arms shacking unable to maintain a semblance of composure. I saunter to my iPad press record leaving 60 seconds to be in position to deliver my elucidation on self harm.

It’s recording I am still calm ready to talk speaking to a metaphorical psychiatrist the Camera.
“ hello everybody I’m recording this video to talk about my abnormal tendency to self harm to cut my arm. I’ve hidden this habit from my family from my closest confidants since I began this atypical habit in the aftermath of my mums suicide at the age of 13. The ptsd of losing my mum having this bottomless pit of sadness swirling around my teenage mind left me lost unable to carry on to function in the tumult of being a teenage girl without a mother. I discovered the psychological salutary practise of self harm one lonesome dreary evening many months after my mum untimely passing. I read about this practice that was prevalent amongst teenagers encumbered with depression and alienation. I wandered what it would feel like to cut my arms to express my pain to myself to unload this pent up trauma to feel alive for once. I was unable to divulge my grief to anybody I felt suicidal with the hole left by my mums ahh rowing death. Seeing her listless body hanging from my living room door had left wounds scars that were inflicting me on the inside. I had composed a abundance of poetry but it this prolific poetic output wasn’t offsetting this inner universe of darkness. I had to take a drastic action that wasn’t talking to a therapist or confiding in a friend. Self harm seemed the perfect method to express my internal torment. I had “accidentally” dropped a glass in the kitchen a carefully placed several of the deadliest chards of glass in my pocket to perform this masochistic act in the seclusion of my locked room. As i cut fervently into my left hand leaving a arm soaked in blood and ravaged my a injurious act of self mutilation I felt the pain but concurrently had feelings of euphoria. I was crying uncontrollably from this release of toxic emotion. For moment the depression had abated as I felt like a haunt being able to sense pain. This was my secret that I hide from my father my friends never unveiling my wounds keeping my lacerated arms clothed in long sleeved shirts. The idea of being exposed of being a mentally ill teenager exhibiting symptoms of a untreated disorder filled me with dread and a sick thrill to have this dangerous dark secret habit. For years I carried on this habit severing my arms when I was impaired with severe depression and suffering form a punishing bout of anxiety. The clandestine act mitigated my dark proclivity to end my life just like my mother had. Yesterday was the latest instance of body mutilation as I maimed my scared arms once again. I needed this its like heroin I get high from seeing the glass pierce my skin seeing the blood cascade from these wounds. I performed the self harm like numerous times previous getting high on cannabis devouring several shots of whisky to negate the excruciating pain. Look at these arms their fucking disgusting ( I pointed my hideous scared arms into the camera as a tear descended down my ashen face) These arms are a reflection of my fractured mind with the untreated wounds from my traumatic adolescence. I hate myself and yesterday the self disgust the need to express the hell of being was strong I needed to take a blade of glass and damage my arms to feel a modicum of humanity. I’m sick In the end I’m sick of the god damn fucking terminal pain sick of the panic attacks I need a hour or two when I could escape. Sorry for acting so erratically and hysterical I just needed to vent to talk for the first time of my penchant for self harm. I know I desperately require therapy and a diet of anti depressant medication but its terrifying to be that vulnerable. All I have is this channel to disclose my battle with depression my atypical habits. I hope you found this video enlightening please leave a positive comment like my video and subscribe to my YouTube channel”

My face was submerged in sweat in tears in snot I was a mess. I ended the video still crying for the first time in months. I turned off the red light as the dream like ambience that had been engendered from the lighting vanished. I opened the windows letting in some music needed refreshing cooling air into this balmy room that pulsated with heat and melancholia. I lay catatonic on my bed in a state of shock letting the cool evening air hit my face. Performing that video was akin to torture therapy I had assumed it would be a rudimentary video but this well of emotion erupted from my eyes.

I Hate Myself And Want To Die

Can’t abide the pain of being me anymore
I hate myself so fucking badly and all I desire is for this hell to end
Viewed myself in the mirror today what a disgusting repulsive human I am
With gnarled disfigured teeth and horrendous pasty blotchy skin

I hate living in this body living in my head
Hate living with the anxiety the relentless self loathing the depression the panic attacks
It never abates it there like mould infecting me slowly being promulgated round my body like a cancerous tumour
Today though the misery of my forlorn alienated vapid life has grown too onerous to endure any longer I want death by suicide

Nobody loves me I’m a ghost waiting for the inevitable death
Nobody calls or enquires about me or asks me out for sublime evenings out any longer
I am gone from the realm of humans into this sequestered life existing bereft of meaningful human company
Never get kissed touched no one laughs with me I’m so fucking alone in this godless soulless universe I ache I yearn for a modicum of validation to reaffirm my humanity

I am a forsaken abandoned soul
Condemned to the ash heap of the world with all the other exiled lost souls
All I a want now is death
The pain my memory will vanish as I will die in a nihilistic brutal manner hanging my body in my lonely one bedroom flat


Red the spectacular awe inspiring colours of the sunset
As I gaze at this psychedelic vision on the horizon
Whilst instantaneous getting high on this potent cannabis
Images memories from my past my turbulent tragic adolescence flood into my stoned consciousness

A singular tear forms on my left eye lid
It runs down my face as the dazzling crimson sunset evokes vivid memories of my deceased mum
In this sunset I hallucinate my mums cascade of auburn hair
I imagine her emerald green eyes starting intensely with warmth and boundless love back at me

I see her ethereal face in this majestic red hot picturesque July sunset
Outside my window in my dank flat I’m transported into another time and place
A time of innocence when I wasn’t burdened with sadness with the hell of my adulthood
I can taste my mums lustrous hair her perfect iridescent smile
I imagine having her hug me holding my tear drenched ashen face placed firmly against her bosom

I’m not here in reality lm lost in the realm of fantasy
Lost to the past dreaming of a life where tragedy hadn’t befall my family
I take another hit from my pipe a deep breathe the powerful psychoactive cannabis takes me higher
The sunset beauty brings me joy through the tears as I’m beguiled by the array of polychromatic colours that illuminate the landscape