Almost Everyday

My curiosity was peaked this morning and I decided to look on the admin board (something I never do). I have written a post almost every day for close to two years. It surprised me that I had so much to say and keep writing. My posts have varied in length, style and meaning.

Some posts have received a wealth of comments and feedback which is greatly appreciated, it shows that there we are not alone and that others too are in a similar place.

This blog has been the cause of much controversy, it has even caused some ‘friends’ to reveal how they really feel. Often I receive a message through social media telling me how I don’t understand and that I am wrong, but I guess that’s simply because they had a rare glimpse of how someone else actually saw them for once instead of the reflection they see everyday.

I do wonder how people see me, how they perceive my written words and what their judgement would be.

To think that I am half way through my life, while still considered young I certainly do not feel that way. Perhaps it’s been the self imposed dilemmas I have been exposed to, or the years of watching someone struggle through existence with only one purpose and hold on to that last flicker of a flame until it is no longer needed.

What ever the reason I feel much older than i actually am.

Yesterday I was reading though some posts and one caught my eye. A friend had stated the he was on to get back to what he was truly passionate for ‘Writing and Helping People’ my hilarious comment of ‘Trying to reclaim your soul after selling it will be difficult mate.’ was ignored and later removed. I guess I struck a nerve.

I find it funny how people can say what others want to hear without a shred of remorse, I find it hypocritical. Very few people ever want to help anyone when there is no reward or benefit to themselves these days. However, there are those people who will always help and say they want nothing in return, yet they often bitch and moan that no one appreciates what they do for them. It would seem they do want something and it is called recognition, more often than not this is the attitude most females take because they want to have one up on someone or score a point.

There is nothing wrong with wanting something in return, after all, it’s human nature to be greedy and hoard.

Unreal Awareness

I hold my position while concealing myself, slightly changing the angle at which I sat allowed me to remain out of their view. This was an encounter I would rather not have and thankfully it was avoided.

Walking past without even an ounce of awareness as to their surroundings they walk past, I avert my eyes and focus one the book that had now become so tightly clutched my knuckles turned white. Staring at the pages I am surprised that they didn’t burst in to flame.

Several minutes passed and I felt the pressure of their presence staring to weaken and vanish, it is now that I can allow myself to drop my guard and unveil myself once again. Watching them walk in to the distance I can’t help but reminisce for a brief moment and think of how different my life would have been, wondering what paths I would have taken and what unrealised realities may have been.

Slowly I come back to the real world. Dwelling in the days of future past is a waste of time, there is no reason or need to think about what might have been because it never happened, but it is still nice to think about all those days spent fighting and how alive it made me feel, sadly though kids dreams are never meant to last and life moves on.

Closing my eyes I allow my hearing to reach it’s peak and take in every sound, my sense of touch begins to soar to the height of it’s sensitivity allowing me to feel even the subtlest draft of fresh air in this stuffy room. The aromas that linger in the atmosphere are both foreign and friendly, some being welcome reoccurrences and others not so much.

Listening to the voices around me the different tones and pitches tell some interesting stories, but it’s the words people are not saying that interest me the most and the tones is which they say what they do. Each has its own layer of meanings, some spoken with passion and fire, others will a bitter chill and sharp sting of jealousy, all mixed in with the mundane and senseless dribble of the monotone army.

Slowly my sight returns and start to focus. All the time I have been sat watching people I have never felt anyone watching me before. While I was curious to why the person who had been watching me watch everyone else I did not approach, they didn’t want to be seen by me, it’s best I let them think that way because sometimes it’s best to simply let things go.

I would leave her in peace, her pride intact and her secret desire known only by me.

Winding Roads

It can be hard to concentrate with unwanted noise in the background, why is it people will fight for your attention when they can see you’re engaged in something that matter to you?

The scarcity principle is one few are aware of, but then again these are the same people who are easily influenced by means such as social proof and reciprocity too, the will never learn. to lear would mean to leave their comfort zone and accept that they have been duped more time than they would every admit.

If you sit and watch the world go buy you can see those who hold none of the cards of influence, those who have the perfect poker face and bluff their way to power, finally we have the the real masters of the game… those who have all the right cards with the knowledge of how to use them and more frighteningly a remorseless attitude to use them.

Winding Roads Part 1

Can you see it?

Crouched in the corner sobbing like a scolded child… That is the once great man, the one who forever showed promise yet amounted to nothing in the end.

Now as his life draws to a close we shall know his story. The good times and the bad, the demons from the past that lingered and haunted, the reason it all went so terribly wrong.

This is the story of the man who would have had it all and more if not for that one fatal flaw…

The journey started many years ago when the skies were clear and the slums were but a whisper on then wind. A man is born of nobel blood but through sordid means his character is tarnished, the first step down the path set the tone for the rest of the journey but sadly he never had a choice.

As the years go by the man becomes a success, a success without fear or worry, free from the harrowed view of the world that was shared by his peers. At this time the road was still a simple straight line, unbeknownst to the lone maverick a fork was fast approaching up ahead, one route would lead to salvation and a future unlike any other, the second road was set towards damnation but neither gave any clue as to their true nature.

The road was filled with mystery, the shadows seemed to move of their own will as if they were alive. Owls can be heard in the dark of the night but not seen, following him, stalking him, waiting… Always waiting.

He reaches the fork and without hesitation he picks a path and doesn’t look back. There is not an ounce of fear, no hint of curiosity for the road he ignored, there is only what he can see before him and it is a long winding road.


Watching the sun slowly disappearing in to the distance creates the most peaceful ambiance. The colours in the sky are soft yet their clarity is magnificent, they flow gracefully in to one another, blended yet distinguishable. It’s truly a wonderful sight to behold.

Today is one of liberation for many, equality is spreading, slowly but surely.

I personally miss most of what is going on in the world, rarely watching the news because of its typical depressing nature, but today it was different. People around the world were united in celebration and will be long in to the early hours of tomorrow, perhaps this will be the topic of conversation for some time to come, either way it keeps people happy.

Time passes by and I find myself wondering less about what we are told by the giant that is the media and more about what we aren’t. The global news room has the power to unite or divide entire nations with something a simple as a few words, this time it seems they’ve opted for peace, that is until whatever we are being distracted form is resolved.

I wish to take nothing away from the liberated of today, but I can’t help but wonder what else is going on in the world, or what else is being set in motion to derail the common sense of the unanimous population. It’s funny, we are the common dominator of the world, equality should be held by everyone equally but it isn’t. Only those with power deem who is equal and indeed when too. We, the lower classed people of the world are the ones with the most influence but none seem to see it.

The world is a corrupt place. People should feel the need to be something they’re not because of the prejudice and ignorance that still largely remains, but that is not likely to happen.

Today is a good day, I wish everyday were more like it. No fighting, no riots, no victims, no problems…

The sun has almost set completely, the children are still dancing in the street, lit by the light that remains, it’s good to see. There are very days like this one, there are few days where people feel safe enough to let it all go and have fun anymore, I wonder if it was like this before humans gained sufficient consciousness to establish the hierarchy of order?

I would like to think that one day everyday will be just as this one, peaceful and without worry.


“I miss you.”

Uttered with tears running down her face and make up destroyed by the flood. She clutches her own arms and digs her nails in hard, drawing more blood with each second she hold on.


She will never understand. How many times have we returned to this place, how many times have I explained, how many times can we repeat this… How many times do I have to sit here and watch as she falls apart.

How many more times…

“What are you doing this to me?”

Frantically clawing her arm to shreds, her shrills can be heard throughout the building. She hovers on the edge of despair, her entire world revolved around someone else, nothing else mattered and if they were not together then there was no point in living if only to be alone.


Trying to get her to calm down is so difficult and it’s becoming even harder, even the sedatives are losing their effects now. She never listens to anyone anymore and explodes at the slightest memory. Just looking at her tearing chunks out of her skin makes me feel terrified, but the second they try to pull her arms apart she will dig in even deeper and cause herself more damage; just as before.

“Where have you gone?”

Staring in to her eyes that were once likes sapphires I can see her thoughts become entangled, tripper over one another unable to make sense of anything. I wish she would just forget.


I don’t know what option I have to calm her down, I don’t know how she can deal with this anymore. It’s been 6 years and in glorious routine today is the day we arrive back at square one once again. I thought she had really made progress after the last time, the psychiatrist seemed to have such high hopes.

Why can’t she just let it go.

“What did I do wrong?”

If only I could reach out and hold her. She did nothing wrong, she did all she could… Nothing could have stopped it.


“Why didn’t you love me anymore?”

I still love you now. If only my words could reach her perhaps her torment would subside, perhaps she would be able to accept the truth.


I’m sorry I could’n’t stay.
I’m sorry I couldn’t hold on any longer.
I’m sorry I left you alone in this world.
I’m sorry….

“Why did you leave me! WHY!”

Words screamed with glass shattering power. Finally the orderlies rush in to find Elizabeth curled in the corner, blood seeping through the restraint jacket. One hold her down while she continues to scream, the other administers as sedative.

Shortly after her struggle starts to cease she is rendered unconscious, laying next to the only thing she has left, his ashes.


I’m sorry…


Self awareness is not always present in people, it’s one of those skills that takes time to learn and often comes with the wisdom of maturity, but when we are self aware what we see isn’t always what we want to believe.

I am sure that from my writings that one of my largest character traits if the fact that I like to be in control, not only of my own life but also of everything around me. I have a nasty trait that takes great offence when people won’t do what I want, though the reasons I have are not selfish, they are for the benefit of said person.

Controlling others with good intentions might seem like a large contradiction in itself, but it’s the only way I can explain who I feel. For the most part I see where people will go wrong and want so desperately for them to avoid the impending disaster, but I can’t always avert people from their choices. Using influence, persuasion and empathy to my advantage in an attempt to get my desired outcome could be called manipulative, but I would accept that label if it meant I could help someone.

Having a firm grasp on the helm is a safety barrier, it not only allows me to help but also keep myself as safe as possible while taking what I consider a risk. It can be forgotten that to have influence on people and their thoughts you have to allow them in to your own mind, luckily for me very few ever realise the impact they could have on me, nor the intellect to take action.

This is the extent of my self awareness so far, there is more to learn, more to reveal and accept because being able to accept every part of your soul can be a frightening thing indeed. To be honest and to not lie to ones self, these mental realisations take a great deal of strength and the ability to relinquish the ego, the ego that fights to protect our self professed image that we would have people believe is the truth.

To my friends, I will surround you and protect with everything I have to give and do so until I can no longer move, but to those who do not sit on this side of the wall, you should heed my words:

I slither across the floor
My tongue forks and searches for my prey
With skin and blood cold to the touch
Eyes darker than night
Be aware or I will strike
For I am a snake.

Spiral & Tear Off

Have you ever just held something precious, innocent and full of meaning in your hand but wanted to left it fall to the floor and shatter?

Perhaps it’s just me, but I have thought along these lines on more than one occasion. It always crosses my mind how easy it would be just to let if slip through my grasp and watch as it falls slowly downward towards the floor, no feeling of guilt for the the choice made, but rather a false curiosity of what will happen, even knowing there can only really be one real outcome.

I picture how the descent would look, how the precious would tumble end over end spiralling out of control, watching piece of it tear off and break away in free fall, how each second would feel as if it’s being dragged out by the gods of time so that it felt as if eternity was passing as I watched it fall.

Shortly after the precious item connects to the floor I can see the ripples of impact, waving out across the small area of it’s landing, all before recoiling back in on themselves. There is no sound, just the beginnings of an implosion as something so precious starts to collapse from the inside out after the devastating fall. Then, a soft chink is heard followed by a thunderous crack, suddenly and in what feels like less than a second it smashes across the floor, irreparable damage is caused and it can never become whole again.

Looking down at what was once so precious, I begin to feel sad, even though I was the cause of it’s destruction. Remorse sets in and I start to think ‘why did I do that?’ but it’s already too late, the deed is done, the choice is made and nothing can reverse it.

I find life to be a lot like this. How many times has we held something precious in the palm of our hand and simply let it slip and fall to the ground; allowing it smash and scatter in to a thousand pieces. Then only after our illogical curiosity has been satisfied do we realise there was no other possible outcome, after all, how could there have been anything other than that outcome.

Many will believe that who we are is defined by the choices we make, yet they all seem to forget we know exactly what the result of our choices will be and that at that moment in time we simply just didn’t care enough to avoid the inevitable outcome of that choice, or perhaps we cared more about something else and were prepared to suffer the consequence. Either way, the guilt is still there for letting something so rare fall as if were nothing more than mere scraps.

Frosted Heavens

As it rains over the frosted heaven, I can see clearly. That which blocked my vision has disbursed and all is revealed, there is no place left for this fear to hide and the only option left is to confront it head on, as always.

I would be lying if I was to say I had no worries of what they will find, but there are plenty of people in this sinister world of ours who have troubles far worse than mine, it’s time to stop worrying, or at least try too.

Having insight in to problems such as these gives a larger view of the world. It helps you see people with familiar vacant stares and potential reasons as to their anguish, though there is never any guarantee they share the same woes. Gut feeling often tells me all I need to know, to learn to trust gut feeling is a skill few will ever willingly accept because gut feeling is never wrong. A bold statement, but if you trust your gut feeling you will know the truth in those words.

Being able to stand here are just stare in the space is a rarity in our modern world. The concrete jungles that overrun the surface are ever growing and these places of calm are few and far between, but the do still exist in small pockets of the world. They are removed from life as it were, frozen in time, devoid of what is reality but that’s not always a bad thing, especially in a world that never sleeps.

It’s such a clear night, there is no wind, no sounds, nothing.

I do enjoy this tranquility, it is at times like these that you realise nothing really matters because in this moment only my thoughts occupy where I stand. I almost look forward to this time every night because it is the only time I am every truly able to have peace.

The hour is 2AM, I would invite you to share it with me but this is my time.

It’s Raining Again:

Reality will choose to rain on those who deserve the sun, but that rain is a gift because it will hide the tears that we don’t want anyone to see. This is what allows those fabled few to hide in plain sight, free of prying eyes and the uneducated who deem to know all.

I often wonder how people perceive what is written each day. Do they see it as a door to the soul or perhaps just simple creative writing written with small hints of truth, either way it doesn’t really matter because writing should mean something to the person who writes and if others connect then let the good times flow, but if they don’t then it’s ok because it doesn’t really matter, after all, we’re not all world class authors, some of us are just regular people who enjoy writing.

Shadow At The Window 

A shadow at the window

A face that can’t be seen

A pair of emerald eyes

What is this fiend?
The shadow moves closer

The heart begins to race

The fear grips me

I can see it’s face…
It’s nothing but a dream

It’s nothing to fear

It’s nothing that is seems 

The shadow was a dream.