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 Industry had died to be replaced by warehouses thriving prosperous industry employment superseded with meaningless low skilled minimum wage labour.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.

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.

A Exultant Night Out In Cambridge

My body is soaked in a luxurious orange blossom infused bubble bath. I’m in a a tranquil setting as my anxiety my body dysmorphia is alleviated as i soak my scrawny body in the bath as Lana del Rey plays on my Bluetooth speakers. I’m getting ready for another exultant night out with my university cohorts. Washing away all the filth and scum from my body as i lay in my bath with the bubbles that obscure my unappealing flat chested body. Waves of excitement and nervous anticipation echo on the tiled walls of my bathroom. There’s a smorgasbord of shower gel bath salts bubble bath perfume moisturiser on the far end by the taps. I’m the first inside the bath having firsts dibs my housemates with whom I’m going out tonight are impatiently awaiting me to vacate the bath. My long cascading unkempt brunettes hair flows in the bath water. Now I’m revitalised as I wash rinse my hair now I’m ready for the final ordeal of washing my face and brushing my gnarled teeth in the mirror. Out of the bath in my luxurious crimson dressing gown I tentatively peer into the mirror the horror of my face the ugliness that’s revealed. My pernicious body dysmorphia is most prevalent when i see my reflection. I look away as the brushing of the teeth commences as i vigorously cleanse my unsightly gnashers. Dare not glimpse my ghastly countenance in the mirror as i apply my facial cleanse and eventually to my porcelain face. I hear a robust knocking at the door i voice bellows out “ how long are you going to be”

I respond “ ill be out in a few minutes”

“ Okay then hurry up” it’s Ella my housemate the extrovert blond the life of the party wanting to occupy the bathroom facilities before i expeditiously leave. I saunter outside with my hair needing to be dried before the night out. I catch Ellas sparkling brown eyes its all yours I declare. Getting the wooden floor wet with the residue from my hair dripping on the floor.

My body tingling with excitement moves inside my eccentrically decorated gothic bedroom. The room is illuminated by my chrome floor lamp there’s an array of art posters literary and musical idols that adorn the walls. Posters of Sylvia Plath joy division virginia Woolf and a art print of starry night which hangs directly above my bed. On my Chester draws there is a permeant shrine to my deceased mother with pictures from my childhood her suicide note and poems i composed which eulogised my dead mum. I sit with waves of anxiety pulsating in my veins. Reaching underneath my bed and take hold of a prerolled splith and light it enthusiastically . Take a deep breathe inhaling the psychoactive cannabis into my lungs and exhale. The cannabis takes immediate effect changing my mood from slightly anxious at a evening of intense social interaction into a serene spaced out state of being. This part of my pre night out routine getting high on weed surreptitiously in the privacy of my room to assuage my social anxiety to avert the likelihood of a panic attack. The weed hits my emaciated body relaxes me takes me to a higher plain of consciousness all the pain the dread the body dysmorphia evaporates in the ensuing minutes after i voraciously devour the splith. I’m sitting on the edge fully stoned with my wet hair in my dressing gown hands tapping incessantly against my palms my right leg is tapping uncontrollably. Despite the inhalation of cannabis my body is ravaged with angst. I have to though get ready for the evening’s festivities.

Firstly i dry and straighter my bedraggled hair ironing out all the cracks split ends. It’s part of the rigmarole the ritual then after there’s the arduous endeavour of applying my war paint to my hideous face. I have adopted the habit of applying a excess of makeup in order to mask my glaring physical imperfections . Hence i apply a deluge of white foundationer to give my skin a gothic porcelain hue. Then the luscious rouge lipstick is painted on my cracked dry listless lips. The emerald green mascara is deftly applied. All the while I’m painting my face with my feminine war paint to hide all my glaring facial foibles. I’m high as a kite floating on air now i examine my mask in my tiny makeup mirror that only reflective item that’s allowed in my bedroom. For at least a minute i scrutinise my visage the foundation the seductive glamorous lipstick and enchanting mascara creates a presentable appearance. I’m almost shocked how I appear I’m reasonably satisfied with how my countenance transpires in the mirror. Now its the onerous task of picking out a suitable dress for a Friday night of rambunctious excessive drinking. I want a dress that will accentuate my body mainly my face I’m not confident of my stick like figure my flat chest. Picking out a demure black maxi dress that hides my petite curves but focuses the attention to my luscious lipstick. With aplomb i place the modest dress on my body i like the way it hides my scars wont feel too self conscious tonight. I place my high heeled shoe boots which complement my maxi dress now I’m physically ready to leave my sanctuary and join my assortment of friends congregating downstairs. It’s been nearly an hour since i left my bath in that time Ella and Aisha has taken long luxurious baths cleansing their bodies. Listening in the past hour to Chopin to soothe my nerves the majestic ethereal melancholic piano music is the perfect prelude to a evening of socialising. Outside my enclave I hear the distant voices of drunken laughter and convivial conversation. I want to take part I’m taken far too long getting emotional and physical prepared for a night out.

I’m ready too get drunk as my stoned body with the clank clank of my boots proceeds downstairs where my housemates Aisha and Ella are socialising with my other university chums Charlotte and Evelyn. With every incremental footstep i take a rumbling tumult goes off in my stomach. Down those wooden stairs making a mighty racket in my high heels. I enter the living room quarters where the tv is off the music is blaring out playing ellas carefully curated playlist music such as Billie Eilish Lorde and Lana del Rey reverberated in the think walls of our house. On the stained glass coffee table was a array of spirits decked out waiting to be drunk. The room was dimly light with only the organ floor lamp illuminating the living room. With relish i poured a glass of chilled white wine from the table. Ella was standing beside in her revealing red dress with me dancing to the music with a glass of rum in coke her first drink of the evening. The air is thick with the perfume of adolescent excitement my mind racing at a million miles a second. I’m still stoned from the potent cannabis splith i smoked earlier. I see patterns on the walls my hands my fingers felt numb i felt like a butterfly floating on air no paranoia no disquietude just a happy tranquil sensation. Knocking back the delectable white wine no sipping or savouring the flavour gulping it down my gullet. I’m dancing with Ella as we are getting in the mood for a evening of dancing and drunkenness. Aisha is sitting down beside Evelyn Aisha looking resplendent wearing her flowery monochrome dress that will attract female suitors. Whilst Evelyn is decked out in black black shirt and jeans with her cascading voluminous red hair flowing down her back. I’m certain with her porcelain complexion and her ravishing red lips. Charlotte my university compadres was lounging on the wooden bespoke rocking chair sipping a glass of red wine. My eyes glazed with the intoxicating sensation of the alcohol the cannabis and the enticing evening that lay before us. Dancing with Ella in our finest evening garments like a pair of exuberant children. I tried to hide my nerves suppressing the fear padlocked inside my neurotic mind.

Me and Ella ceased dancing like hyperactive children and sit down beside Aisha and Evelyn. “ Is everyone looking forward to going out tonight” Ella ebulliently bellowed exclaimed attempting to be heard over the thunderous music. We all in unison agree with myself twitching and fidgeting as the cannabis is inducing a paranoid feeling. “ when is the taxi arriving” i enquire in “ in 10 minutes hopefully” Aisha calmly answers. My body is tingling with anticipation at a night of excessive drinking dancing and finding a lover. I look around at the assemblage of friends who will be accompanying me on the cobbled streets of Cambridge with envies eyes such a display of beauty that’s on display a beauty I’ll never possess.

Through the cacophony of noise in our student house there’s the distant echo of the taxi horn. That must be the taxi Ella says point out the obvious she rushes in her red dress and her high heels for the taxi like a child chasing a ice cream van. We casually follow her I’m the last one to exit making sure the house is securely locked. My hands trembling my lips quiver from the chill of the evening and the tantalising possibility of the night of copious drinking and fraternising with alluring young men. I sit scrunched up next the window in the taxi as the laconic driver transports us into the centre of town. I disengage from the effusive conversations preferring to fixate on the kaleidoscope of images of Cambridge in the chill of December. The psychedelic colours of winter wonderland in majestic display we drive past houses with flashing lights that take on a cosmic meaning with my stoned eyes. We enter the centre of town the neon lights flashing at me taking me higher with their beauty. We arrive at our destination in the epicentre of town on a chilly Friday night with the old streets coated in a sheet of slippery ice. Aisha pays the driver the charge I’m first wanting to stretch my legs its a clear night. In my curious manner i gaze in awe at a the skyline in full awe inspiring display with the flickering stars from distant dying planets of the cosmos. My eyes beguiled by the full majesty of the cosmos with the black void of space interspersed with tiny glinting specks of light. For a minute i gaze intensely at the ravishing night sky unaware of my peculiar behaviour. “What are you doing” charlotte enquires “just admiring the night sky” i reply assuaging charlottes worries about my behaviour.

Now I’m drowning in a tsunami of unease as our tribe of university chums walk in unison to the first nightclub of the evening. It’s 9:00pm I’m only slightly drunk the hallucinogenic cannabis has almost worn off. I’m like a ravenous beast desperate for the sweet nectar of alcohol to satiate my appetite to numb my terror of the intensely uncomfortable social situation I’m plunging into. We queue outside the revolution club as we will wet our salivating tongues. We queue shivering in the freezing December night I’m riddled with worry at my dress seeing all these derisive eyes on me being repulsed by my body bereft of personality. My body shacks and rattles I discussed my idiosyncratic body quirks the incessant tapping the shacking the scratching with the glacial temperature. Still the nerves pulsate i take shorter breathes my heart is thumping thumping as i wait to enter the nightclub pit with the drinking the flirting the gyrating of our bodies in a sexual mating ritual.

Entering revolution with the dance beat vibrates reverberates in the dimly lit club. My mouth dry my heart racing as i survey the crowd the luscious creatures who have congregated to socialise to exhibit themselves to forget about their worries. We march to the bar which is heaving with customers desperate for a cocktail for spirits. I pen down my dysmorphia i think is anybody here encumbered with crippling social phobia or am i the only fucked up student needing the drink to anaesthetise my terror. I in my ardency to wet my lips with alcohol volunteer to pay for the first round of cocktails. I order a tray of colourful flavourful shot drinks as long with a 5 cocktails for the gang to imbibe. It takes a eternity to be served by the barmaid i blame it on my hideous face but eventually I order 5 cosmos and a tray of shots. As i carry the order back Ella helps me safety transport the order back to our table. The music of Robyn plays in the club as we gulp down a highly potent mysterious shot drink that sends me spinning. There’s a light delicious buzz from the shot glass now i have my rum and coke cocktail to devour. Ella Evelyn charlotte and Aisha drink with the same adolescents reckless abandon as i wanting to get drunk after a laborious week of study and work. Now we can enjoy ourselves in the heart of the city surrounded by charismatic twenty somethings with a lust for life. We can barely hear ourselves speak as the cacophony of noise from the speakers. All we do is sit making small talk remarking on various beguiling creatures that populate the bar. “ HAVE YOU SEEN THE GORGEOUS MEN IN HERE” Ella screams into my ear with her manner of speaking loudly whilst drunk and her lips wet with desire. Ella with her ravishing blond hair and red dress approaches a young men in a audacious act whilst sat in the safety of my university chums terrified of rejection. I sat conversing with Aisha as she remarked on the attractive women lurking around the establishment. I see Aisha coming out of shell of reserve as the alcohol loosens her inhibitions. I play along with her game whilst on the inside my heart races the thump continues with the surge of electricity oscillating round my veins. The tantalising possibility of sex of finding a lover is making me sweat. My loins are on fire my nerves aren’t dissipating. I sit with my friends engaging in witty conversations frozen stiff unable to break the ice with these heavenly creatures. Charlotte my melancholic newly made friends offers to pay for another round of drinks. This time its a selection of cocktails I have the Cuba libre a pretentious way of saying rum and coke. I let the liquor enter my body relaxing me nullifying the terror of prolonged social interaction.

We drink watching Ella flirting with a admirer we remain ensconced in our table lost in our conversations not having the gumption to venture outside the enclave of our tribe. It’s by now been an hour Ella has returned we’ve drank several drinks Ella says “ Are you ready to move on I’m bored we need to relocate to a more boisterous nightclub”

“Yes of course I want to dance there’s no dance floor in here” said Evelyn

We forthwith saunter onwards to a more lively nightclub where conversations is impossible where dancing is encouraged almost mandated. I’m drunk having devoured a cornucopia of shots and cocktails. As he leave the revolution bar I’m floating on air but swaying as walk. I’m off with the fairies lost in the beauty of the night lost to the seduction of the drink. Still i am insatiable requiring more liquor to temp down the fear of a attack having my condition be exposed to my intimate circle of cohorts. We stride along linking arms singing the music of Lana del Rey projecting a jaunty ambience to onlookers. We arrive at the next establishment vinyl a trendy nightclub in the centre of town with a large dance floor. Despite our rambunctious inebriated behaviour we exhibit we are allowed in the club i assume because there are 4 iridescent women and myself a homely student who would illuminate the congested trendy student bar populated by students by effervescent party animals. I enter with a disquiet in my bones i hide with my demure persona i follow Evelyn to the bar her lustrous cascading red hair immediately attracts the attention of potential suitors. I go on unnoticed I’m a ghost not body is enticed by my emaciated body. We purchase more highly potent cocktails my vision blurred from the abundance of alcohol I’ve devoured. The vinyl nightclub is a kaleidoscopic vision with a intense array of colours strewn on the dancefloor. With my whisky and coke in one hand I’m beckoned to the dance pit where drunken adolescent bodies are gyrating to the hypnotic beat. My paranoia escalates for a moment even in the apex of my inebriated ecstasy but it subsides as I gulp down my recently purchased cocktail. Then i find myself in the epicentre of the dance pit sheltered by my special circle of friends who will shower me with affection. Charlotte was even smiling Evelyn looking like a Irish goddess and Ella a vision of feminine perfection in her seductive red dress. In this moment i felt this wave of joy in my veins I felt like a human being instead of a unlovable freak.

Hours pass as we sway to the pop songs to the dance music sweating feeling the exuberance forgetting all my personality foibles as I’m lost in the nirvana of being intoxicated. On the pink and blue dance pit i am alive in blissed out states i admire the polychromatic abstract artwork displayed on the walls of this place where young people go to dance in ritualistic acts of joy and sexual liberation. We are drunk sweaty immersed in hedonistic pleasures i don’t want this to end. To think all the dread that preceded this evening all the agita I experienced that left my fragile mind worried stiff at the mere possibility of a harrowing panic attack. Look at me now lusting for life engrossed in a throng of luscious young toned males who gaze at me with lascivious eyes. There was one man a unknown angel of the night who took a fancy to me despite my ghastly visage. In the dimly lit nightclub with the lurid colours dazzling us with the alcohol i lost all that self loathing and danced passionately with this man with ocean blue eyes and lustrous brunette hair. We danced as I abandoned all my characteristic self consciousness and became this extrovert exuding life. Near the closing time we kissed on the last song in the wee hours of the morning pure electricity raced through my body kissing this unknown beguiling creature. We are exchanged phone numbers as we made firm decisions to reconvene our romance in a actual date.

The night is coming to a close as myself Ella Charlotte and Evelyn languidly walked home as the frost nearly broke our stride on several occasions. The ice had no effect on me with my thin dress and my heels. “ wow would you look at the majestic skyline” i remarked “ Aria you’re so weird and funny when you’re drunk’ said Ella linking my arm trying to prevent a calamitous fall. “ who was that man you were getting off with” said Evelyn

I replied “he said he was Chris I want to meet him again didn’t want to go to his house and have sex I’m too drunk’

“Very prudent” said Charlotte

The stars were blazing the vacuum of space the vast endless spectacle of the cosmos and the giant moon left me in awe. My mouth agape as i stared in the sky trying diligently to walk with a modicum of grace.

“ aria you’re always staring in wonder at the stars off with the fairies” said Ella with a simpering smile

“ yeah i think there beautiful almost been transfixed by the wonders the beauty of the cosmos” said i

We walked linking arm in arm not having enough money for a taxi hence the journey home was arduous one in the chill of winter in our heels. Reaching our destination with our bodies impervious to the artic temperatures due in part to our plastered bodies barely able to walk in a linear direction. Reaching the sanctuary of student house

“ Charlotte are you staying tonight” Aisha yelled out

“ Yeah can i”

“Of course you can” said Ella

We entered our rented domicile “ home at last” i hollered

I collapsed onto the floor in a paralysed state. Ella and Aisha in there kindness carried me upstairs to my room.

“Do you have the key to your room aria” said Aisha

“Yeah its in my pocket you can leave me here i can make i to my bed” Now being petrified of even my closet companions from entering the privacy of my room.

“ are you sure” Ella spoke softly
“yeah I’m fine i can walk to my room”

Aisha and Ella both kissed me on my forehead giving me fervid hugs goodnight. A warm glow came over me as i meandered drunkenly to my room and bed. Collapsing on my bed with my dress on, on top of my black duvet. Waves of bliss rained on me i was inordinately glad to have participate in such a sumptuous night of drunken adolescent abandon. A night devoid of anxiety apart from the beginning when butterflies and knots in my stomach were threatening to ruin my night with my university sisters. I drifted in a black out into prolonged unconsciousness in my sweaty creased dress not to wake until the midday with a abominable hangover.

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

The Rave

Dancing for hours floating on air
In states of rapture to the incessant beat
My mind my body transported by the molly into a euphoric loved up sensation
Psychedelic colours flow in my eye as the music and sound appear as one

My friends that dance in blissed out states appear to me like ethereal orbs of light
There bodies like celestial heavenly beings with iridescent colours that are emanated from their beautiful bodies
We hug we dance in each other’s arms the connections of friendships are deep tonight thanks to the tonic of the elicit stimulant and the invigorating music

All my anxiety all my melancholy all my social phobias has dissipated tonight
I’m engulfed by hundreds of people in a abandoned warehouse dancing to the music the DJ is blaring out at a deafening volume
We are all one experiencing the sublime beauty of music and our humanity
For hours no words are expressed only dancing sweating with eyes that appear like glorious illumines constellations of the cosmos

The sweat flows from my petite body
I’m alive tonight losing all concept of time and place
Lost in this transcendent place that is heaven
Love bounces off the walls i share a group hug with my affable friends I’m floating through time and space the pleasure is unbelievable its a pure joyous high sensation

Alive

Take the menacing blade of glass in my right hands that is erratically trembling
I hols my left arm on the floor and cut with the sharp blade cutting into my underarms
Laceration after laceration is made in another bout of euphoric self harm
Blood cascades from the deep wounds onto my wooden bedroom floor

I feel no pain the profusion of alcohol and painkillers numbs to the pain of this masochistic deleterious act
When I with reckless abandon are cutting into my underarm i feel alive
The pain of my depression is a transformed into a euphoric pure state of being
I’m able to articulate my self loathing my disgust my desire to not exist on my body

I purge this toxic suppressed emotion in a nighttime act i commit in secret
In the heat of the night I’m alive no longer trapped in anxiety laden numbness
Now i can succinctly visually communicate with myself the hell of my condition
Tomorrow i will be writhing in excruciating pain but now in the ecstasy of the midnight self harm I’m alive no longer feeling like a mindless zombie able through cutting into my ravaged body to transcend this emotionally constipated state and feel something anything