To find that which can’t yet be found you must first be lost.

Nothing is discovered by knowing where you’re going, otherwise you wouldn’t be discovering anything new. You would merely be confirming that which you already knew to be true.

But when you find what wasn’t there you soon come to realise that it was there all along, you just didn’t know about it yet. So really there is nothing new to discover, instead there is only truth and honestly that’s all there ever is. You can believe what you like, but regardless of what it is the truth will always be the truth, no matter how much you might want to believe otherwise.

To find that which can’t yet be found you must first be lost, then you must accept you’ve always been lost. Trust me, that’s the truth.

Fallen From Grace

I bumped in to an old friend today, while the experience was pleasant I could see there were a lot of troubles swirling in the depths of her eyes. She had fallen from the pedestal she once pitched proudly on and was now nothing more than a common gutter snipe… It was a shame to see.

As we reminisce the days of old I encourage her to open up and explain what path her life is now on, she reluctantly begins to open the gates and lower her defences, not long after this the tears began to fill her eyes and she let it all out. Sharing each and every story of misfortune in great detail I learned that she hadn’t broken free from the desolate past she once had, in fact she had now become consumed by it.

Now this is not the first time I have seen a person succumb to the overpowering despair of drugs, but it was one of the saddest. To watch someone who had it all, to be secure and somewhat comfortable lose it all and be rendered a smoking husk of her former self made me question the path I currently tread and how it’s a very dangerous road. While not drug induced, it’s still not a good road to follow.

Parting company I take a stroll along the river by the cathedral.

With nowhere to be and time to spare I find a grassy bank and plonk myself down by the river. As I watch the leaves, twigs and debris flowing along I am reminded that we are all rivers (metaphorically speaking) and our flow will always lead to one place in the end. Nothing can stop it from happening, but plenty of things can change it or even make it come to a halt for a period of time.

There was a family of ducks quietly swimming without a care in the world, surrounded by their natural habitat. I do envy these simple creatures, free of the burden of higher thought and able to live according to their instincts and nothing else.

For all our triumphs, creations, wealth and knowledge Humans are set to be the sentient beings on the planet for decades to come, but we are far from the happiest… That honour is reserved for the animals who we took this world from, yet they’re not bitter, jealous or greedy, they take only what they need to survive and eventually give it back when they depart.

I guess the secret to being happy is to accept it all.



Why do I align with the solitude is a question harbouring in the mind of my inner circle, the answer is simple… It’s what I want. It’s my choice.

This choice, it will be met with anger because not everyone understands why a person would want to go it alone but eventually that will subside, eventually they will understand. My moods have become erratic, so erratic that I want to be alone because I will have no need to contain, restrain or control my emotions. I will be able to let the seamless transition happen without having to worry about who will be effected apart from myself.

My default has always been to retreat away from the crowds of people. There is very little I care about and I don’t want it caught in the black hole that is my thoughts, it’s not fair to lean on people when they don’t deserve the brunt of my moods. While it is true that they would be there for me, I can’t bring myself to rely on anyone else.

History has taught me one lesson repeatedly; Being alone is not a bad thing.

Burning the bridges that ascend the clouds to the peaks of friendship and love is not my intention but it will be taken in that regard, luckily I am a good climber. I will do what I need to do to get myself through this first, then I shall begin the climb.

People of Irony

These people… You know them.

We all know them.

One day the world will be at their mercy, cowering because of their rise; or so they would have you think.

They scorn without hesitation and then persist to be overcome by guilt when the opportunity they sought has passed, for them to become the martyr and not the tyrant. Soon after the passing of the tides they wish all that was said could be taken back, all the injustice could be wiped away and everything that’s now seen can be banished form existence.

I loath such people.

After the veils fall away you can see them, the moment is only brief but once you have seen you can never un-see. You will always know.

I say to those people make peace with yourself and let go of your guilt, it’s not worth holding on too, it will only destroy you from the inside out… slowly but surely, everyday and forever.

The most ironic part of it all is I too am one of those people.

What Lay Beneath.

Though I am not the strongest, fastest, smartest, most selfless or benevolent, I am honest to a fault and it causes me no end of troubles.

Honesty have never been the best policy. Who really wants the truth when it’s far easier to believe a convenient lie?

No one.

I was sat listening to a conversation today between two feminists. While both had fiery passion in their voices, the conversation was one of discrimination and prejudice, I fond the irony quite amusing.

It struck me that people want you to believe they’re as pure as freshly laid snow, but they forget that although the snow may portray a perfect image, it is what lies beneath that provides the substance and support of that image. Thus, the image can only be supported for so long before it melts away and we are able to see the truth.

Having an opinion is not wrong, nor is having a different opinion for that of your acquaintances, friends and even family. This is what gives us our individuality, our character, both good and bad. So why do so many try to hide what they are?

Fear is the only answer I can find, but perhaps I can’t see past the history of my life for anything else.

I believe we all live in fear to some form or lesser degree.

The fear of failure
The fear of achievement
The fear of persecution
The fear of loss
The fear of judgement
The fear of letting those in need down
The fear of not being what we pretend to be…

When the world around us is in flames and the black ash covers the ground for miles to see, this is when we will truly know what scares us. Will we fear the raging inferno and the life it will take from us, or do we fear surviving the blaze and having nothing to live for.

Death or Life.

Which will you fear?


The trials of constantly having to prove ones self become tiring.

Each time the justification needs to be met the bigger the distance between us becomes, eventually there is no way to cross over anymore and we are left on separate sides of the chasm.

The ground was finally split be the vagrant thoughts of a random dream, it left a cut so deep in the group that mother earth could do no more. The fault is cast on to one side, as it always is.

Time and again I have shouldered the blame, repeatedly, always.

Nothing is ever enough, more is needed, more is wanted, more of my soul. They say to give yourselves to one another, yet they fail to mention the price you will pay.

Paranoia, jealousy, obsession and greed consume.

From another small journey I have learnt much about myself.

I lost a large part of me all those years ago. While there is no longer any feelings of love, remorse, anger or even hate I have come to realise that I am still damaged. Perhaps beyond repair.

The idea of my being seems to draw people in, much like a poisoned plant luring in helpless animals. They soon begin to understand what is beneath the colours and claim that I have changed, the sad truth being I’m the same as I was, but now they see everything.

None ever seeks to understand the fractured mind. Instead they try to fix it with pieces of their own, as if trying to fix gold with bronze.

Looking across the chasm before me I feel a slight twinge of sadness. It represents another failing in my short lived life. Alas I shall begin again to wander, one day it will all make sense I’m sure.

The Lonely Man

The coffee shop is full of people as per the norm.

Friends, family, colleagues and more.

In amongst the crowd a lone man catches my eye, it seems no one else has seen or taken any notice of him; it is like he’s a ghost among the living. No older than myself but very slight in frame and stature, drinking a large hot chocolate with a sultry look. The more I focus on watching his small and gentle movements, the more fascinated I become. He raises the drink to sip it every 7 seconds as if part of a clockwork routine, then I begin to feel a cold sorrow filling my soul.

I take notice of his clothes; slightly worn in, but about 20 years behind the current fashion trends. A plastic rain mack is draped over his chair, he seems old before his time, he seems to be living a life that isn’t really his.

A short time passes, possibly 5-10minutes at the most and then he leaves.

My eyes follow him, he limps towards the door and struggles to pull it open. I decide to stand and help him. He looks at me with a sad smile and says thank you.

Then he was gone.

Now I am sat here wondering, thinking about so many different things, perhaps I was wrong about him. Maybe I wasn’t seeing what I thought, maybe I was simply seeing my reflection cast on a vacant face.