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.

Chapter 1 My Disorder

From my earliest childhood memories i always felt different regarding myself as a alien not part of the human race. Remembering always feeling isolated from the world having a perception that there is something wrong or peculiar about me. From earliest memory i suffered with deep feelings of self loathing and worthlessness. Having the impression from early in my development that certain basic human experiences weren’t meant for me. As a young child struggling to express myself emotionally and verbally. The simple skill of forming friendships and interacting with other children my own age was staggeringly difficult. Even as a child having limited conversational abilities. I was a deeply shy and introverted child who struggled to connect to other children in rudimentary interactions.

The isolation the inability to cultivate meaningful friendships as a child was the hallmark of my childhood. As a child i was diagnosed so autistic at the tender age of 5 having severely limited verbal skills. Basically almost being a mute child saying nothing to my other classmates. Having to receive special needs treatment to help with my developmental disability. Being diagnosed with autism as a child was a profoundly emotionally scaring childhood memory.

I eventually improved my linguistic skills becoming a more socially adept child. Still was left with wounds of loneliness that have persisted my entire life. The experience i felt as a young child the struggles with formulating friendships with my greatly diminished social abilities. The sense of being a alien creature locked out from the world of people. Never felt truly integrated in vital human experiences, sure after my special needs verbal training was no longer necessary I developed into a relatively normal child.

The emotional illiteracy remained having limited capacity to express myself emotionally. Even as a child i developed these negative traits which were the beginnings of a personality disorder. For instance in my infancy having the predilection to isolate myself to have protracted periods with no human contact. Earliest memories of my childhood I revelled in being alone. Reclusiveness as a kid and throughout my teenage years was a personality quirk. I enjoyed spending hours playing with my toys disappearing into a glorious fantasy world. Getting immense enjoyment in the solitary activity of video games hours of utter pleasure being immersed to another imagined reality. When playing video games there was no agita of uncontrolled social situations.

Even in my infancy i escaped to this rich elaborate fantasy world. It was a means of escaping the internal suffering of being this way of being so emotionally disconnected from the world. At the time I perceived this to be a symptom of a overactive imagination responding to a lack of external stimulus. As oppose to a indicator of a longstanding personality disorder which was to develop and grow more acute over time. The proclivity to fantasise to live vicariously through alter ego figure in my vast imagination was always a idiosyncratic trait of my damaged abnormal personality.

Also as a teenager intimacy of any variety was difficult almost impossible. I was able to formulate friendships but with great adversity managing to establish meaningful friendships. Any real intimate friendships were incredibly hard to maintain throughout my childhood, teenage years and early adulthood due largely to my social ineptness. Developing romantic bonds with the opposite sex were beyond the capabilities of my limited social aptitude. Lacking the confidence the self assuredness the verbal dexterity that was required to form romantic relationships. Trapped by my crippling shyness by my inability to be emotionally vulnerable to another person.

Another personality idiosyncrasy that marked me forever that left me viewing life like a alien in a world of humans. This was my limited emotional range never being able to exhibit my truest emotions to have all these suppressed feelings. To be left so isolated so socially adrift struggling desperately to relate to people to connect emotionally. Sure i was able to construct superficial relationships was able to have friends to have a modicum of a social life. Real true profound emotional connections always eluded me. There was this mask I put on this protective gear to prevent myself from ever being vulnerable. Becoming withdrawn and aloof repressing my true emotions to protect myself. Being a extroverted gregarious person would be too painful and contrary to my introverted nature. Throughout my life i have endured prolonged states of depression. Never been able to divulge my depression to anybody keeping these gloomy feelings a secret. Depression was hidden in the mask of reserve behind the mask were deep rooted perceptions of worthlessness of sadness which i was yearning to find a outlet a person to relive myself from the weight of this pain.my emotionally crippled personality found it impossible to release the pain to be vulnerable or honest with another soul. Hence i became i became detached from my emotions became numb who found it intolerable to articulate anything to anybody. Therefore putting ion this countenance of indifference this aura of aloofness to shield myself from the depression. It was a defence mechanism i had to deal with these unresolved repressed inner sufferings.

Over the course of my childhood and into my early adulthood i was living with these burdensome symptoms. Personality eccentricities i assumed were inductive of a shy introverted personality. Up until i was 19 i was completely ignorant of the depths of my personality disorder. Then one fateful day when i was 19 i stumbled upon a internet page. My curiosity got the better of me this page elucidated various personality disorders. I always have known that there is something wrong with me that i have a atypical personality who struggles to adequately function in the world in society. Then as i adsorbed this page on schizoid personality disorder it became a devastating realisation of how severely damaged i am as a human being.

The list of symptoms catalogued on this page lined up with perfect congruence with my personality foibles. Symptoms such as having tremendous anxiety in unfamiliar social situations or in any particular situation. This was what i had been dealing with all my life suffering from anxiety finding any prolonged degree of social interaction intensely stressful. Being around humans forming relationships was always incredibly arduous. Another symptom that was indicative of being schizoid was that individuals who were afflicted with this disorder would seem aloof cold almost indifferent to other people. This trait struck me hard it was a deep indication of how i was a perceived by other people. Slowly i realised how other people viewed with my coldness my withdrawn nature being unable to connect with other humans. How i had a propensity to be alone to isolate myself from the world to avoid routine social situations.

By now as i read through the signifiers of being schizoid I began to ascertain that’s I wasn’t just a strange odd person rather a profoundly damaged soul. This page was describing a pathological that i was going to be afflicted with my entire life. That my life was never going to be normal that I’ll be forever a lonely withdrawn person detached from normal human activities. Normal essential life exploits like friendship or love would remain virtually unattainable. This was a blinding revelatory moment when i become fully cognisant of how damaged i had become. A sense of desperation a deep melancholy permeated my consciousness as the realisation of my personality became lucid in my mind.

Another symptom This page listed was poor communication skills. Arguing that schizoids have great difficulty in social situations that they are often incredibly inarticulate with a terse conversational pattern. This describes me perfectly at the time and throughout my life. Always struggled verbally finding it strenuous having long running conversations. My responses to questions were often mono syllabic saying yes no hello giving blunt answers to detailed questions. Demonstrating little interest in anybody else’s opinion. When a friend or stranger talks about their problem i remained indifferent on the inside being apathetic to what’s going on in their life. Due in part to my lack of meaningful conversations i was subsequently unable to see how other humans perceived me. Unable to detect how well or ineptly i interacted with other people. The poor communication skills was defining feature of my atypical personality. Having limited skills escaping into isolation left me further away from retreating inwards.

Not being able to adequately connect with humans on any real level left me feeling like a alien a non person. As i read symptom after symptom descending deeper into a state of panic and sadness. Everything this page delineated about being schizoid aligned with my abnormal behaviour. It was as if i was discovering i was mad that i was cursed with a severe personality disorder. I always knew i was different to my peers that I faced a great difficulty relating to other people that i had real impediment expressing myself emotionally.

Reading further down the page with overwhelming anxiety on my ashen face. The next symptom it elucidated was that schizoid typically create a vast interior elaborate fantasy world they vicariously exist in. This characterised me perfectly all my childhood I had wild vivid imagination living in states of daydream. As a child struggling to form friendships so this rich imagination developed to combat my social ineptitude.

This proclivity to exist in a interior fantasy world continued into adolescence and into adulthood. It was under control for most of my childhood then when I was about 16 or 17 i detected a change my fantasy world became more extensive and intricate. Finding myself spending hours fantasising about being alter ego alternative version of myself. Dreaming of being famous of being a rock star a successful charismatic personality who lived life to the max. This preoccupation with this illusionary universe served as a coping strategy to my exile my withdrawal from the real world. The fantasy is a peculiar habit that allows i can connect with substitute relationships which seem so real so rich and vivid to me. It is where i am alive where i experience life changing profound emotional events. The friendships the love i can participate make me feel something some semblance of humanity. I am able to differentiate between fantasy and reality just this inner landscape allows to be free to be alive in this alternative reality this perfect vision of life of myself. In my fantasy world I’m everything i aspire to be it enables me to live out my dreams to be uninhabited to make a significant impact on this magical imagined reality. In fantasy i matter its a perfect antidote to my lack of social contact and dysfunctional relaxation ship with the world of people.

This was the symptom where the depths of my disorder become evident that i was clearly suffering from this socially encumbering personality disorder. I had all these negative traits these socially maladroit quirks. This disorder i was blind too for so long never perceiving myself as mentally ill or dealing with a disorder. After having a revelatory moment of self discovering my whole world changed now i saw myself as a outsider a alien existing forever on the margins of society. Reading this page which concisely illuminated on what its like living with a schizoid personality disorder describing how individuals who are schizoid are often are relatively comfortable with being aloof with having a isolated withdrawn life. I am definitely not comfortable with having this condition. Being so negatively affected with this condition with the dark realisation of my disorder. Being schizoid has severely affected my life sending me down a pathway of loneliness of feeling cut apart from humankind. Having a assumption that this world this realm isn’t meant for me that i doomed to be forever a passenger a observer not destined to have the glorious sensations of life of sex of spiritual ecstasy of happiness.

Reading more with every symptom that transported me to another layer of hell of dark comprehension of my illness. How abnormal how socially adrift i had become. The next point this internet page described about schizoids was they find emotional intimacy virtually impossible as a result of being so detached from society. They can only encounter intimacy in their rich vast interior fantasy landscape. Where they are able to obtain vicarious intimacy vicarious emotional sensations. Again this symptom corroborated with my own flawed personality. Always struggling to achieve any degree of intimacy. Forever being a intensely introverted person who never divulges personal information to anybody.

Suffering all my life with depression with self loathing never uttering a single word to anybody about my melancholic outlook on life. Never imparted to a friend or family how i have dark thoughts of suicide how i seriously contemplated ending myself. To be that vulnerable that emotionally naked would be impervious to my shy nature. The struggle for emotional connection intimacy has taken me down a lonely highway as I’ve searched endlessly to find true intimacy. If you can never relate to people on a profound level relationships become superficial only discuss trivial matters never conversing about your feelings.

The page elucidated another devastating point that schizoids invariably enjoy a life of isolation. Again confirming another trait that i have suffered a life of protracted isolation due to my diminished social skills.i wouldn’t say i enjoy isolation its that I greatly prefer to be alone than having to socialise with other people. Retreating away from the orbit of people into a private space with reduced internal suffering. In my mind i crave human company but the reality of it is too oppressive on my fragile mind. Isolation in my experience has become akin to oxygen allowing myself to sufficiently scope with myself and the harsh world. The social situation of the party the night out is utterly terrifying hence i prefer to remain entrenched in isolated states. It’s this constant dichotomy that exists between my desire for meaningful human contact and the suffocating reality of meeting people. The angst of socialising with other humans becomes so onerous i retreat into the sanctuary of isolation.

The page detailing detailing characteristic of being afflicted with schizoid went on to argue as a result of schizoids preferring isolation and having deficient verbal skills they few if any friends. Again this corroborated with my lifestyle my sparse networks of friends. At the time i read this article i had only a few real friendships. Friendships were rare all my life from my earliest childhood memories. When i was able to cultivate a friendship i saw it as a blessing a anomaly a relationship destined to end. My interpersonal shortcomings meant friendship were doomed to fail that human companionship would be sporadic occurrences throughout my sad life.

Invariably with close friends i managed to somehow miraculously maintain i never was the person who made the social arrangement. Relying on my socially adept companions to call me to schedule a social gathering. Fostering new friendships become increasingly burdensome when you find yourself so socially marginalised from mainstream society. Acquaintances i had were based upon similar hobbies various matching interests never conversing beyond surface level never indulging in profound emotive interactions.

Every point this page was illustrating was as if it was describing every peculiar idiosyncrasy i had. I read further down the page it described another sign of being schizoid, explaining that schizoids typically have no interests in sex or romantic relationships. Being sexually apathetic having a celibate having no compulsion no desire to engage in amorous relationships. At the time i read this revelatory page i was still a virgin since then I’ve had a singular experience of sex. However i still haven’t had a girlfriend the idea of a long term relationship excites me i want it so badly to fill the emptiness in the depths of my soul. Exactly like friendships or any form of social intercourse i found romance elusive a illusionary adventure I’ll never experience. Due in part to my cold withdrawn persona people generally ignore me. Individuals whom I’m sexually attracted towards i refrain from engaging in friendly conversations never expressing my secret sexual desires keeping these thoughts a secret. The idea of revealing my passions being unguarded that emotionally raw is terrifying. The rejection which would inevitably occur would destroy me. Another reason i find myself alone in the world struggling for companionship. The mask of being schizoid being unable to extricate myself from my inhibitions keeps me alone.

By now i had experienced through the reading of this detailed description of schizoid personality disorder that i had this particular personality disorder. Every character flaw every atypical personality abnormality i exhibited. I perused this page when i was 19 a dark curiosity attracted me to this page. Before this event i never perceived myself as normal always strange maybe a outcast a loner. Now this was a moment of bleak revelation where my life would cease to be the same again. Once seeing myself through a myopic self centred lens now i was awake enlightened in a moment of heartbreaking revelation. Having the foreboding my life would be a limited one confined to isolation to a friendless loveless emotionless meagre existence. A life barely surviving in low wage low skilled jobs where being verbally laconic wasn’t a hinderance.

Chapter 2 My Seemingly Normal Childhood

I was born in the autumn of 1984 in a working class northern town in England. Birthed into this world in the town of Mayberry raised by two normal parents. Their names were Sarah and David Harratt they named me Patrick. It was a stereotypical rundown humdrum derelict working class town that had suffered the devastating effects of de-industrialisation of mass unemployment. A urban landscape where grass never grew where dreams were crushed under the suffocating atmosphere of endemic poverty of my hometown.

A town where the citizens were trapped in a endless loop of tedious low paying dead end employment. This was a town in which dreamers people who aspired to achieve anything in life fled to fulfil their dreams. No hope no real life no excitement would reside in this rat trap of a town.

Even as a child i was struck by the lack of beauty the absence of colour of vibrancy that existed in Mayberry. The landscape was permeated with a bleakness with images of grey, black and brown streets. There was black cobbled streets with empty factories. Which once were filled with bustling thriving industry now these factories laid empty ruined. There was a atmosphere of sadness that ran through the town. Industry had died to be replaced by warehouses thriving prosperous industry employment superseded with meaningless low skilled minimum wage labour.

The death of vibrant factory industry factory industry gave way to poverty to desperation to alcoholism to rampant drug addiction. This is the land the atmosphere i derived from. The town of Mayberry was a microcosm of industrialised town and cities across 1980’s Britain. With mass unemployment fading failing industries to be replaced service job with meagre pay. These were the harsh conditions that surrounded my childhood. Despite the endemic poverty my parents weren’t poor more like lower middle class.

My mother Sarah was a qualified hairdresser working in a salon earning a responsible living. It wasn’t the usual paltry wages you would be expected to earn in a factory. Working as a hairdresser afforded my mum a more prosperous lifestyle. The conditions of a hair salon were considerably more favourable and sociable. Where the conditions the agreeable atmosphere was far removed from the stress from the tumult of factory life.

My father like my mother had liberated himself from the struggle from the grind of factory and warehouse labour. For all of his life he had worked as a plumber earning a respectable living. It was a occupation which afforded him to escape the uncertainty the economic austerity of being employed in a factory. My family consequently weren’t poor trapped in poverty like other families. We had a more comfortable existence never had to endure the adversity of living paycheck to paycheck or bein unemployed.

These were the economic conditions that my parents extracted themselves from. Rising above the trappings of poverty of endless economic struggle to a relatively well off lower middle class life. They escaped the estates the council houses moving away from the impoverished area of town. Owning property in the affluent suburbs away from the rough area of town.

My parents when i was born were two people who loved each other greatly. Having me when they were in their early twenties. I was their first mistake an unanticipated pregnancy yet they loved me abundantly throughout my childhood. My mother Sarah was a warm extrovert who exuded a love of life. She was a gregarious character, loving the social occasion. All of her life had a great capacity for forming friendships. She was vastly different to my introverted reclusive emotionally robotic personality. She had immense warmth people found her amicable generally enjoying her friendly countenance. She was considered attractive often changing her hair colour, routinely altering her physical look out of a deep need to remain a attractive. Despite her confident demeanour and outgoing persona Sarah regularly dealt with severe bouts of depression. Also in contrast to her open nature my mum kept these feelings hidden struggling to cope with the black dog of depression. Unlike myself she was able to unburden herself seeing a qualified professional. My mother had the fortitude had the emotional intelligence to address her prolonged states of depression. I on the other hand never had the courage being too emotionally repressed too damaged to ever divulge my emotional problems to a paid therapist or counsellor. This was my mother a open hearted emotionally accessible individual who was the epitome of maternal love who protected and loved her children. A emotionally damaged soul who struggled through life. Who had intermittent bouts of depression a trait i inherited from her. I didn’t inherit the emotional transparency of social lucidity but the melancholy the protracted periods of desolation. I wish i could be like my mother enjoy people enjoy humanity enjoy existing outside of my self imposed solitary confinement that is my life.

My father had a almost diametrically opposed personality type to my mother. He was a shy introvert almost withdrawn with a sparse circle of friends. My father David is nowhere near as introverted or emotionally glacial as me. He did though share my inability to express his emotions to people he felt an affinity towards. He was born into a poor working class family where you had to work in the suffocating factory to support the family. He was nourished in this grim environment where you worked a hard job to make ends meet. You never expressed your deep feelings keeping your lips stiff remaining emotionally repressed. Never was it acceptable for a man to be vociferous with his worries or inner torments. My father as previously mentioned through ambition and a staunch desire to escape the humdrum the oppression of working in a stifling factory setting trained to be a plumber. He escaped that life which to him was akin to being a prisoner or a indentured servant to the proprietor of the factory. Getting a trade as a plumber afforded my father a reasonable living. It was a liberation from the hardships of endless poverty, from the toxic work that gradually erodes all the hope all the light from you. He prospered in the lack of routine in being emancipated from the angst of the 9 till 5 monotonous schedule. By having the ambition the intelligence to pursue a plumber apprentice it meant he was elevated from the bleak prospect of subsisting on starvation wages to a more affluent vocation.

As i said previously my father David personality was in stark contrast to my mothers lively extroverted disposition. He was a shy introvert who struggled to ventilate his emotions especially to me. Striving with tremendous adversity to formulate friendships outside of his intimate group of lifelong friends. In many social situations when he was surrounded by strangers in unfamiliar company he appeared incongruous with an air of awkwardness. Still around his acquaintances he was lively dispensing with the austere countenance the aloofness he adopted around strangers. Around the warmth of friends there was a different person a fun loving convivial soul. My father could be funny with a dry sardonic wit capable of biting remarks. Around lifelong friends he exhibited warmth which he found tremendously difficult when meeting strangers.

David met my mother Sarah in the early 80’s it was the serendipitous meeting of two contrasting personalities. My mother this sociable women who exuded a effusive spirit and loved people. My father was this quiet shy soul who had friends but struggled around unfamiliar company. Yet these antithetical personalities connected physically and spiritually. It was amazing they connected they seemed not right for each other on the surface. The bond of love and friendship that was cultivated in a short period of time would endure for a lifetime. It was a relationship that faded slightly through the ravages of time but in the beginning in the initial period of marriage was a glorious alliance of love. Love, marriage and children that were harvested in a difficult conditions where this poverty and mass unemployment. My parents had the fortitude to go into vocations which weren’t dead end soul destroying jobs. Even a hairdresser a service sector job which paid a sufficient wage was elevation from menial labour. My father working away from the manacles of the factory giving a strong foundation for his children. Increasing opportunity for his offspring being away from the council estates into the middle class suburbs of Mayberry.

In autumn of 1984 was when David and Sarah brought myself into the world. I was a unexpected arrival a unplanned mistake. Yet in my early years I was showered with affection with love especially from my mother. At that point i had the semblance of normality of being a fully functional toddler with no abnormal behavioural issues. A few years after i was born my parents had another child a sister they called her Racheal. Racheal only 2 years my junior so for the majority of my childhood it was a close bond. We were more like close friends than brother and sister. Having a sister enabled me to mask my personality imperfections allowing me to connect to someone close to my age. It’s was a kinship based on bonds of blood and genuine friendship. My sister unlike myself was a extrovert who displayed confidence in social situations. Whereas i was a slow developer in my cognitive development. Taking longer to learn to walk to talk my sister was more agile in her early development as a infant. My stunted development was a symptomatic of my deficient interpersonal intelligence rather than a indication of a stunted intelligence My sister was more verbally dexterous and was more proficient in unfamiliar social situations. Still there was no indications up to this point of my dysfunctional nature

It wasn’t until i enrolled in primary school at the age of 5 when my parents and teachers viewed me as anything other than a normal socially adept child. When i began to go to school my social shortcomings my inept verbal skills became apparent. Teachers started to notice how uncommunicative how antisocial i was. How I barely spoke had difficulty in interacting with my fellow classmates. Struggling to forge any friendships i became this adrift aloof socially marginalised child. Now the genesis of my personality defects started to be exposed to the world. As teachers were concerned at my abnormal behaviour believing i had signs of learning difficulties or that i was severely impaired socially. As a 5 year old i was therefore suspected of being autistic or that i was on the autistic spectrum. Was never professional diagnosed by a child psychologist but was required to have a special needs teacher. A teacher appointed to assist me with my limited communication aptitude. The teacher did help me to formulate responses in unfamiliar anxiety inducing social scenarios.

Being suspected of being on the autistic spectrum left me with lasting emotional scars. From this moment on i would forever regard myself as a outsider a socially marginalised figure. Needing a verbal coach left me feeling this sense of separation this deep rooted alienation from my peers. Before being required to see a special needs teacher i can recall seeing myself as a normal child having normal reactions existing in a realm of normality. From onwards seeing a vocal teacher who helped with my stunted behavioural problems i was uprooted from the classroom once or twice a week. This professional hoped to train me to converse like a normal child to learn to function with some semblance of normality. This period of being mandated a elocution teacher was intensely emotionally scaring permanently damaging how i perceived myself how i related to other people. It’s when i began to have these dark impressions of myself. Started to truly hate myself to have regard myself as a other a alien. From my early misdiagnosis of autism i struggled to connect adequately with my fellow classmates. Attempting with great adversity to form friendships. However being taken away branded as a social freak in mr preliminary school education left with wounds that would never heal. The school my parents tried diligently to help me to adjust to school to ameliorate my limited personality.

In hindsight i believe that I was clearly misdiagnosed as bring autistic. It was undeniable i exhibited symptoms characteristics that could be attributed to somebody impeded with being autistic. In reality i was abnormal child who had a atypical personality who was showing the first signs of a pathological personality disorder. The initial indicators of being schizoid were apparent with the terse laconic conversational patterns. The inability to foster meaningful friendships, the apathy towards other humans problems. The almost robotic restricted range of emotions having a reluctance a reticence to display my inner feelings. The habit of spending hours alone separated from other humans. Even as a small 5 year old child having this inclination for isolation for disappearing into my imagination. As a child having this proclivity of hours upon hours being engrossed with my toys with my cars fantasising about being a racing driver being somebody not encumbered with a defective introverted personality. Escaping into fantasy this vast alternative reality I existed in. Daydreaming a method of liberating of escaping the reality of being me. In the universe of fantasy I could exist vicariously thorough various alter ego figures. In fantasy embarking on exciting adventures escaping the humdrum of life in Mayberry. Breaking out of the chains of the prison walls of being this way. Being a pirate being a astronaut going on glorious expeditions to unexplored worlds. This vivid fantasising was a manifestation of my desires of the person the life i aspired to have. This confident charismatic extrovert who traversed the globe who was absolutely free living a life with no limitations. A individual who could connect with people with ease who lived with no walls no bars no restrictions from his internal neurosis. I always had this propensity this aversion from indulging in genuine human interaction by escaping to a isolated fantasy world. The fact was at this moment my fantasy escapades were just a part of a overreactive imagination. I think at the time it wasn’t anything unusual it was something a plurality of children escape into vivid daydreaming. Especially shy children who struggle to create friendships in their formative years. The fantasising was though the beginning of my condition which would fully escalate into a severe disorder in early adulthood.

At school though i stopped having the special needs help. The verbal training enabled to advance my stunted linguistic skills. After several years i become a seemingly normal child despite my peculiar habits. Was able to cultivate friendships to break free from my verbal and emotional paralysis. As i entered school i felt a modicum of normality despite my imbedded feelings sense of worthlessness and alienation. Became a ordinary schoolchild who wasn’t seen as particularly odd just a quiet laconic shy child. The experience being separated being branded abnormal with negative perceptions of myself which would endure throughout my life. Having this loneliness at the time this deep need to hide away to escape the environment that surrounded me. Always feeling like a alien creature like I wasn’t truly a human being who didn’t belong in this world. I can recall having dark envisions of my bleak adulthood that I’d be completely alone unhappy struggling to adapt in a cold cruel ecosystem. Envisioning that I’d be a loser with not friends in a dead end job unfortunately this dark prophecy came true.

Other people didn’t regard me as weird seeing me as normal despite my social deficiencies. The reality of my childhood was that i had a limited capacity for genuine emotional expression experiencing life without colour viewing the world through a black and white emotional spectrum. There were all these colours all these suppressed emotions crying to get out locked inside my emotionally constipated mind. Yes i was able to function to equip myself at school to become a balanced functional schoolchild. Breaking free from the verbal muteness from the dysfunctional behaviour learning to appear sane to put on a mask of normality. I drifted through my tenure at primary school being a standard average schoolmate never excelling. I would socialise with my classmates outside the realm of the classroom being invited to birthday parties. Partaking in ordinary childhood social events giving me a facade of normality. Managing to improve my behaviour to be accepted within a circle of friends finding these feelings off self loathing dissipated somewhat.

My relationship with my mother and father as previously mentioned had the appearance of normalcy. My mother was this figure of warmth and compassion. She was their for me recognising my faults pushing me vociferously to get help for my conversational problems. With my attachment to my mother I felt human sensing i mattered in this world. It was this emotional blanket this shelter that alleviated my anxieties my abnormal habits. Indeed family life was at this crucial time in my development a source of comfort. In the family enclave i was showered with love with kindness. At this point in my childhood my mother and father were in a healthy happy relationship.

My relationship with my father throughout my life was a strained one. He did love though foiund it a immemsly onerous task to display any emotion. There was love there was random acts of kindness however it was a austere love not built on spontaneous acts of physical affection or encouragement. As I entered school and began to exhibit abnormal behaviour struggling to adapt to this new environment my father didn’t know how to respond to my social maladroitness. Our relationship as i was misdiagnosed with suffering from childhood autism became emotionally detached. As i was encumbered with my limited social skills my inability to express myself emotionally my father with his introverted withdrawn character found it impossible to connect with me to comprehend what i was going through.

At the inception of my primary education was the genesis of my detached relationship with my father. From this moment onwards we had this cold unaffectionate relationship. I understood he loved me even with his cold aloof emotionally repressed nature. He was somebody who was a incredibly old fashioned men a product of a time when British men never divulged their feelings. Where it was socially unacceptable to cry to appear emotionally vulnerable to other men. He was a old fashioned personality type totally unequipped in dealing with somebody with abnormal personality. He did love me but was precluded from expressing his feelings for me with his stereotypical english emotionally repressed austere comportment.

My childhood was a childhood of relative happiness permeated with copious happy memories despite my melancholic view of myself. Memories of great days out enjoyable holidays at home and foreign exotic destinations. Holidays where I didn’t perceive myself as a social outcast but found myself as another ordinary child being imbued with the wonder the beauty of being alive as a infant. It was with my family dynamic where i would discover order where there was assuagement from the external struggles i faced mainly at school.

The ameliorating relationship with my amiable sister allowed me to cope with the hardships i endured. My sister Rachel was a only a few years my junior therefore we were able to relate being of a similar age we had this emotional bond. With my sister there wasn’t this constant exertion and anxiety when vocalising my thoughts. With Racheal I was verbally lucid i was free to be myself. There wasn’t the crippling shyness the emotional constipation i found amongst strangers my own age. We were kindred spirits a connection built upon a genuine friendship. A friendship cultivated on love on the bonds of family. Friendships were these precious elusive gems that were challenging to forge to maintain. With my sister it was easy sharing all this joy all the beneficial memories. My family was this shelter this tranquil serene environment that temporary protected me from the storm of meeting new people. The family milieu enabled me to medicate myself from my social impediments helping me overcome my early behavioural issues. With my childhood intimacy I experienced with Racheal i never felt alone I understood i had another soul to connect with to mitigate the alienation of being a abnormal child. Throughout my early formative years it was this blind helping me to overcome these social hurdles facilitating my integration into mainstream society.

Overall my childhood was a relatively normal one. I overcome my early social antipathy my impassiveness to other humans. After the special needs training helped me to improve my verbal acuity I adjusted forming long lasting childhood friendships. The most severe negative personality evaporated as a result of the help from the vocal teacher who radically improved my conversational proficiency. Still i was left psychological wounds with deep rooted character flaws that persisted with me into my adulthood. Having this loneliness this inability to relate to people to competently convey my emotions. Being entrenched in this painfully shy personality never breaking free from the walls of my introverted persona. Indeed outside of school and immediate family other friends remained elusive incredibly rare occurrences. The occasional sporadic friendship developed but i remained alone away from the school life. Throughout my infant years was this aloof weird alien creature struggling to function in a frightening harsh world. On the surface was this normal child but the early signs of a personality disorder were all their. The predilection for solitude the propensity to escape into a elaborate fantasy daydreaming existences. The struggle to connect with people to have friends to be normal to not feel so alien so socially adrift. Still was able to find normality to find alleviation from anxiety. Procuring a tiny slither of happiness gaining real emotional binds that have been glaringly absent in my adult 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.

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

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