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.

If woman ruled the world…

I have been thinking, what if woman ruled the world would we learn? Or Would the same problems still arise because just like before because no one every really wants to listen.

Men are brash and value themselves highly we never listen and just plow on through, but woman, they speak and their friends listen. Some are strong and wise, they will help for no other reason except because they feel they should. Others will listen and steer the conversation towards their own problems, and a few will let themselves be used, simply because they want to feel needed, valued, wanted…

Watching how woman interact is fascinating. They are attentive, caring and selfless, but with a reason, none of them want to be seen as bad by those they consider of a similar ilk, many of the smiles seen are mere pleasantries, nothing more than a curtsy. I wonder what their ulterior motives are?

What is my logic for this thinking? Because every woman who asks me why I decide to help people and shoulder a burden always say “Why would you do it? What’s your reason?”. This serves as proof to me that there is always something more, we judge based on how we see the world, Perhaps it’s seeking approval, compassion, trust or companionship, I’m not sure yet.

If woman ruled the world I feel we would face the same problems we do now, with the only difference being a deepened sense of empathy for their fellow compatriots.

Men need to learn empathy and woman need to learn their own value.


Writing helps you understand all those little thoughts in your head. It allows you to see that you’re not alone, you only feel that way because you don’t understand what you have.

Writing allows you to love yourself and have faith in your choices. It banishes the dark clouds that creep up on you, and it gives you resolution.

Many don’t write for approval or even recognition, they write for empathy, but not in a typical sense.

I believe many write to help them connect with themselves, because the only person we have to live with is ourself. So we may as well be comfortable and honest with that person. Otherwise, life will be hard and you’ll always be left asking that ominous question:


Lost Feeling

“Flowers bloom creating beauty for all to see yet once the bloom has ended all that is left is decay”

Recent days have been filled with good times, laughter and memories. Life seemed to be moving forwards again the repercussions of past actions seemed to have ceased, many people had asked me what really happened and without a care I was happy to explain and those who wanted to know more got to read some very interesting things I had in my possession and to their shock the soon realised I was not the one in the wrong and something wasn’t right. They all asked why I had not given these items to specific people and my answer was always the same “they are not worth it” although what I meant to say was “it’s not the right time” to be able to change people opinion at a whim is a rare form of power that can become intoxicating and also corrupting it was because of this I had decided to destroy “Aprils” letter.

Reading it one last time the words meant nothing; lies in written form that is all they were. Lighting the fire and watching the flames escalate in dance of uncontrollable chaos and it was glorious, the flames died and all that was left was warm glowing embers and a memory, the only memory I chose to keep because it was from a time when I was happy and that is all I needed.

It saddened me to think of the feelings I had for her had changed so much but after a constant barrage of betrayals, games, lies and pain it was only a matter of time, I had seen her at work and noticed her looking at me I offer a friendly smile and was greeted by only a cold remorseless stare almost vacant like that of someone who was lost and could no longer be found.

Various people have asked me why I am still writing, for me the answer is simple. I choose to continue because each time I write I learn more about myself and life is about learning and the only time we stop learning is when we die.

Every day I speak to people and listen to their problems be it emotional, physical or material and each time I do it unlocks a new pathway of thinking and understanding because I now have something I never had before Empathy. People feel so alone in the world even when they talk to friends they still feel truly alone and that a sad thought because in their own world they think that they are the only person who has gone through XYZ problem so helping them to realise that’s not true just seems like the right thing to do.

One thing that I see missing in the majority of people is knowing what they want, it’s not hard to know what you want in life if you just sit down and think for a moment. Often it seems to be the material things that drive our ambitions or at least the ambitions of the ego, will all of those things make us happy? Will being wanted or needed make us happy? For a while maybe but in the long term such things are meaningless.

The best bit of advice I can give is this;

 “you don’t think you are going to be happy, you know you’re going to be happy”