journal, random, Tideous Tuesdays

An update: Impossible illusions imagined

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I feel lost, unloved, unguided and lonely. Quite a self-deterministic mouthful, so, let’s get onto it.

First off, I’m pretty much done with being alive. I look all around me and all I am blinded by in my waking moments is a consumerist lifestyle that continues to propel me into my student loans. And when that is washed down the drain by my heavy, unbridled spending, I can stitch my eyes closed even further to the increasing debt as I dip my sticky fingers £2,000 deep into my overdraft.

All great. All deconstructed.

Let’s move on.

Since engaging in this broadcast state, where every self-obsessed waking thought is living and breathing on instagram, Facebook and so on; where you can see from the comfort of the own phone, which are all in their own self-righteous way apparently smart, what Jessica had for breakfast 2 seconds ago, I find it particularly difficult to allow anyone past a superficial level into my life.

Even so, I will always be envious of those who have the opportunity to be vulnerable with each other. To let people into their lives, knowing full well they will experience so much pain. An easy trade I believe if you understand the full scope of the liberation pain can bring. Healing rarely occurs without some form of pain beforehand and so in that sense, it is completely worth it. Scary in its own right. Not so common regardless but still, because of it, I feel indefinitely unloved as this is not something I have obvious capacity to achieve any time soon.

In the meantime, I’ve joined websites that will support my eccentric lifestyle of consuming drugs, both prescription and otherwise. A website where I will have my internal needs of being able to dump my emotional baggage onto another, a steady flow of validation despite the absolute ridiculous turmoil bouncing against my heart, all met.

An impossible illusion? Perhaps. I’m laughing.

Anyway, where was I?

Put simply, if I can get paid for giving away something that is becoming increasingly meaningless to me – that is sex – then why the hell not? I would prefer it. So, emotional needs met? Check. Physical needs met? Check, check.

Hm, so that’s dealing with or rather, addressing my feelings of being unloved, possibly feeling of how “unguided” I feel, maybe a tad bit of feeling “lost”.

And now, the loneliness:

Well, let’s be honest, I was born to be lonely in a room full of people. (Self-pitying, I know but please, bear with?) Four other siblings, countless cousins, a hundred or two of possible peers to make friends with and not one of them ever wanted to play when I was younger? Long story short, I was never comfortable with being alone but I certainly adopted mannerisms which I thought would hopefully fool those around me otherwise. I mean, the reading, the silence, the headphones always in – all ways to push and pull away from those around me.

It’s hilarious because I haven’t even gotten into how that has translated into my adult life now. Let me digress for a second. When I feel a friendship is being threatened by outside forces, I will keep that friend at arms length while mentally straining not to pull them closer and never let go. The fear is real. The anxiety deafening. I’m a bit of a maverick in that way. A bit destructive. Ready to overdose on my own medicine.

Should I even continue?

My point is: Life is going swell. My self-destructive behaviour is reeking havoc in my mind’s eye, colouring everything distasteful and breeding a weird brand of distrust between me and my surrounding environment.

Oh, and I’ve taken up smoking. It’s lessening the anxiety to be honest. Or making it worse.

I forget.

Really,

I do.

Nakedstreetkid out x

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Outgoing Mondays, random

Pip and me

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Every night when I’m in bed, while the sun is setting and there’s just enough light peeping between the blinds hanging closed against my window, I see the silhouette of my mouse sitting on my left side.

See, the thing about my pet mouse is that it’s not real. I got him at a market a while back in London. He was supposed to replace the feeling of loneliness after my boyfriend at the time had flaked on me yet again. My boyfriend had promised to take me to this market for about 4 months and every time the monthly market rolled around, he was too busy, too preoccupied to hold up to his promise.

Anyway, I ended up calling my dark green, crotchet mouse Pip after somehow losing him in a pile of blankets, duvets and pillows. I remember at first calmly and then quite desperately looking for him between the sheets, calling out:

“Mouse, mouse, mousey, mouse, mouse, darling mouse! Pippy! Pippy? Pip! My darling, dear and sacred Pip, where the hell are you?!”

And then soon after finding him lying by himself on the floor after probably falling out from between my ruffled duvet. I apologised to him and placed him at the head of my bed, on my left hand side.

At the beginning of this post, I stated that Pip was not real. That was incorrect, Pip is very real to me. He represents the only other toy without reason, I took a liking to and decided after about 2 hours of browsing to pick up and openly and instantly fall in love with. I fell in love with him. Kind of like I did with my ex boyfriend.

Except only one stayed.

Nakedstreetkid out x

random

The Devil Reincarnated 


Biscoff spread is the devil reincarnated into this beautiful, sinful, luxurious paste of mouth watering proportions that I can’t get enough of. 

Why? God, why? 

Okay, this is obviously a post about absolutely nothing but my addiction to something so tasteful that I personally have no self-control over. Given, a post about nothing is absolutely needed after the recent show of just pure sadness and lethargy I’ve been dispelling from my heart. I know some may be disappointed but I think it’s about bloody time I do something lighthearted. 
Anyway, back to my heartache of biscoff. 

It’s just so easy to scoff down! Lord help me if I ever get my restless hands on a full jar it because it will be the honest end of me! An entire jar full will easily smooth its way down my esophagus, hit the acid in my stomach, dissipate its madness into my bloodstream and cling on to the walls of my blood vessels for dear life.

All ending in a sudden (but fatal) heart attack. 

And you know what? 

I wouldn’t even care because I would be so happy to have eaten my jar of biscoff in one gulp. There will be just sheer bliss slapped onto my face, with a heavy set jaw and ecstasy lifting away each eyebrow from my glazed honey doe eyes filled with amazement. 

This is what biscoff does to you. Allows you to enter a world of pure beauty and cruelty at the same time. So, proceed at your caution. 

Or, just do whatever you want. 

I’m quickly finding that the world we live in is already as sinful and as beautiful. And there is no force of will that can go against it. 
Nakedstreetkid out xx 

journal, random

Self-doubt and other tribulations 

So, I’m experiencing this period of real self-doubt, where I can’t seem to believe that I am good enough for the course I have chosen for university. 

I feel that in some ways I’m not adequate enough, that I’m not good enough or prepared enough for a future in this career. And somehow through that, I feel as if this experience is completely individual to myself – that no one else in this world could possibly experience this level of doubt before they go into university. Which is of course false. 
Everyone experiences this doubt, whether founded in truth or not. 

But the thing that people forget is that everything is temporary. That what may be true today may not be true tomorrow and that there is always time to change your mindset and thus, change your outcomes in life. 

The truth is that I’m afraid right now. I’m afraid that my place in university may be revoked because of previous mental health issues that occured within the last year. And because I was so honest and so open, they now know everything and that could work against me but I hope it doesn’t. I hope they see my honesty as me taking responsibility for my actions and my future. 

Because at the end of the day, that is the most anyone can do. And self-doubt isn’t going to help me as all it can do is alter the way I behave and will work against me. 

So, in this case, I’m going to peel off the veil of self-doubt and have a little bit more confidence in myself. 

Because then,no matter what happens, at least I’ve shown my true self. 

Nakedstreetkid out xx 

random

Waving My White Handkerchief

I have this permenant hatred for myself that despite me constantly trying to work on myself, never seems to quite go away. And maybe the reason it never goes away is because I’m always working on myself. 

Strange, right? But think about it.

In my mind’s eye, constantly working on myself has convinced my instinctual nature that something is inherently wrong with me.

And guess what!?

That can really lower my already horrendously low self-esteem! (Yay!)

Which turns out to make me sadder and sadder until low and behold, I’m staring at the face of depression as my barely visible hand in my crowded mind spasms a wave of a white handkerchief. 

Point is, I’m not happy.

I’m not happy one fucking bit.