A rebel without a clue.

I didn't go to my graduation. I didn't return to Newcastle upon Tyne for fourteen years. It didn't get me into its bloodstream. Final year of uni was fucking awful! On every distropic level. Work, levels of debt, shitty flatmates. Answering to the wrong texts on the wrong exam ... Only leaving me with novels I didn't like! Dad, apart from the one Easter break on the Strand in Western Australia House, was unrelenting in his personal destruction of me as his son and the inevitable depersonalised individual he made me. Oh those ten years of spite. Oh his forgetfulness. Oh his tyranny. And oh, I got drunk in the Cooperage while trying, one last time, to copulate once, at least, with one of girls, who were always exclusive and elusive, who I'd come to know (hardly) in those tortured three years! It was always pissing it down. And windy. And dark. Here I sit feeling little towards Them Yet have I some affinity towards The smoke stacks. The chimneys; No long...

Why am I afraid of this world? Why am I afraid of being happy? I've created idols of no use to me. I've chosen the Ego over the HS. This is not the truth. And so I am bound in chains. Recurrent dream: my father is alive. No one believes he is dead. Everyone interacts with him normally. Even with proof of the funeral and cremation convincing people is impossible. Other than my mother, Emma, Julia and Jayne the shopowner also didn't believe me: even with an eyewitness. Agitation. Can't relax Can't stop thinking Meditation is becoming more difficult

No motivation. Came back from my mum's after the rush hour and didn't leave the flat. Laid on the bed trying to calm down, but it's so loud. Can't leave my room/cell. Can't see the point The world is so loud I find it hard to stop my mind racing when it's constantly under attack by the people I see when I have to go out. Everyone's looking at me. I feel like I must smell bad or look bad: but I can't work out what I have done? Going to the shops is really difficult. I stay away from the main routes and go down back streets. The noises from around my flat never stop. Sirens, people shouting, cars and bikes flying around North Street. Council can't help me to move and I can't afford to move. My flat is a mess. I keep meaning to clean it, decorate it, but can't see the point. I've never really moved in. Things are still in boxes. All the walls have nails and dark shades from the previous tenant. Getting around by public transport is d...

Really what do I know? Zero. I've created an artificial life within my mind. But it is flimsy as leaves blowing in a breeze. Sunday morning people are driving me crazy. The man who wants to talk in train times and getting to where he needs to be at the correct time. What is the correct time? There is no time. There are no intervals. There is no before or after. The essence of life is now. To live now escapes the meaningless; it escapes depression and anxiety. I made no attempt to see this person at all, but he jumped up and down in myopia: be gone! I don't know how people work. How they operate. Is this because they truly don't exist? Bless them anyway because they are still maintaining an illusion which is my own nothingness. I've just realised that no-one exists at all as I perceive them, which means I know no-one at all because they have no existence and I have no true memory, of people as they actually are, to relate to. I've been aware I have no control of ...

Who am I really? The anger I feel inside is the mess left over in a life of the stranger I know not. Or knew not. Being a passenger in one's own body with thought and action pretending covering up the reality. Today I no longer see the mysterious other much, it only comes out when I hide my true self in the habit of my lifetime: alcohol. The other me needs this habit to make an appearance, however briefly, and places a barrier on the other path. The Course stated that but two individuals, who truly meant they wanted peace above all else, met then that would be truly enough to save the whole world and bring salvation to all minds. This is one of main consistent reasons I leave the solitary being of my abode. The bed I meditate upon numerous times a day. The absolute stillness I achieve for several hours before I head off on my next attempt at finding a true union between myself and another. But finding a true union between two requires total acceptance of any and all individuals....

Cascading like a waterfall down and down into a greedily abyssal state. Bottomless. it gives no relief. The past crawls up my back and my future is blunted against my face. Narrowed and passage less. Within a tightening noose and a shrinking box; a bag upon my head; I bow my head, lower my eyes, from a force I can't shake off. This is the middle of my life and I can find no shelter from the relentless mass pouring on me from depression and anxiety. Antagonism without quarter; without quenching. To be called a shitty person and looked at with loathing, for being honest about my experiences. To be told I'm playing the mental health card by an old school friend. To have the flood gates open and to be washed into the gutter without a soul throwing me a lifesaver. And I came to Wetherby to relax ahead of the Work Capability Assessment! It's impossible when I've to spend most of the afternoon and early evening hidden away from the berserker who is meant to be my sister: t...

Something has shifted in me: I can no longer bring myself to walk out of Leeds to Wetherby. I've got weary of the many streets and stares I've to cross before the ring road presents itself and I'm in freedom. No desire. Nothing to prove. No advantage traipsing through countless, litter strewn, streets where no one says any greeting and where I only see the insane relentlessness carrying on: runners running, joggers jogging, dog walkers walking dogs and bicycle riders "talking talking talking" while flying through the monotony and never being here now. This malaise is surely temporary? I've just too many bad thoughts on my mind to shake off this nothingness. This morning I've rejected the very idea of walking there. I'm going to get the first bus there and relax at my mum's until the morning when I've to return to Leeds for a Work Capability Assessment at Quarry House. Since the new year I've tried to retrace the steps I'd come away fr...