Sometimes I Just Feel Depressed

…and I don’t know why.

Throughout parts of the day, I’ve just felt heavy and lost. Something is missing.

My flatmate and friend technically moved out today, although he has about 3 weeks to get the new place sorted, and he’s got a lot on his plate because of that.

I felt like I had some stability but once again things get flipped, turned upside down. It’s just a matter of time before someone new moves in. I’m sick of feeling like everything is just temporary; I miss having a home.

The anxiety is driving me crazy. I’m so sick of having to contend with my own bullshit fears every single time I step out of the front door. What am I so scared of?

I’m feeling stuck again and I don’t like it.

I read somewhere that you shouldn’t talk about yourself in a blog, because people apparently “don’t care about you.” I never intended to talk about myself in this diary-like manner when I started blogging, but here we are.

These late nights are taking their toll—it’s 4am, yet again, and so I’m off to bed.

A thank you to the Facebook page Mental Health and Invisible Illness Resources for sharing this blog entry.

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Time to Be Honest #2

I enjoyed confessing my sins last time, but I can think of plenty more, and so I’m back to share my horrible deeds! Check out the first installment at this link.

Gotta Get that Pump

I imagine a lot of guys into weight lifting, however big, will find comfort in knowing that they are not the only ones who go quickly “pump iron” shortly before going out to meet someone, especially of a romantic interest! We just wanna look our best. So I do this, too? Guilty!

If I were some hulking great big monster I probably wouldn’t bother, but I’m 6ft tall, and have too much body fat to be comfortable going around in tight, flashy shirts; I’m probably too reserved for that stuff anyway.

My Baldness Is Not Entirely by Choice

I tend to tell people I chose to be bald, and that I love it. My head isn’t super-shiny, but it’s still about as bald as you can get with a regular electric razor.

The thing is, I have something called folliculitis, described as “inflammation of the hair follicles,” so it’s easier for me to have no hair than the nice long hair I had some years ago. Folliculitis essentially means pain, potential for a spotty mess if I let it grow out and stop treating it, and, in my case, a frequent need for a cream in order to treat it.

While I did initially choose baldness as an escape from the very long hair I once had, I’m not exactly choosing to stay bald. Luckily, I think I pull it off quite well. I just hope being bald doesn’t make me look terminally ill or as though I’m so old that my hair has abandoned me.

The Magic of a Ring

For a while now, I’ve always worn a silver ring on my right hand. I sometimes like to imagine what it would be like to have a wedding ring on the left. I might even put the ring on the finger for the full effect.

Maybe I’m being a bit girly—I should probably go chug some strong whiskey and talk about big boobs while whistling at random women who walk by, but I don’t drink whiskey.

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Should I Start Podcasting?

What if I were to record myself saying this stuff so you could hear my oh-so-wonderful British voice in action? Akin to a podcast.

In order to comfortably record myself reading my blog entries or just talking on-the-fly, I’d need two things: privacy and a quality condenser microphone.

Unfortunately, privacy is not something I’ll get much of until I move out of shared accommodation, so this idea isn’t something that could come to fruition just yet, but perhaps the middle of 2016. Given the nature of some of the topics I talk about on this blog, I feel privacy is absolutely a concern.

I’ve been looking into buying the Blue Microphones 2070 Yeti Blackout Tri-Capsule USB Microphone, but it isn’t cheap, at least not for my frugal arse. The microphone, as you can see if you click the link, is currently £99.99 which comes to $153.25 if you use the USD. I’d also probably need a pop filter, which would cost a further £11.99.

I’d like to know whether you think this is a good idea. Would you perhaps actually  like to hear me chatting away, rather than you having to always read the text within my blog entries?

Since I’d be able to talk without reading what would essentially be a script, what sort of things, if anything, would you find interesting for me to freely talk about?

Myself, I quite like the idea of a question and answer setup; I read questions in the comment section of the previous blog entry, then answer them in the next blog entry. I’d prefer to have more readers who commented in order to not run out of questions to answer or topics to talk about as per your suggestions, so perhaps it’s just as well that this may come at a later date.

I must admit, the theme I would very much want to talk about would be what I’ve categorised as Life, in particular, mental health issues I’m familiar with, such as anxiety, OCD, and depression, and things that go on in my life.

I think it’d be good to get some feedback on this idea early, so I’ve got a plan of action, should the time come, and of course to avoid a potentially wasted investment.

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The Gender War

I can actually foresee a gender war in the not-too-distant future. I don’t mean all the silly bickering, but guns fired, and lives taken; all-out war.

Go back far enough and you have women being mistreated to the max. Eventually, women rose up and made themselves heard. Only now, years later, the tables are turning, causing many men to be bullied and ridiculed by women, giving us crap if we so much as breathe their way. How long before it turns into a true, violent, world-wide battle?

The idea of a physical war between genders is quite a scary one that would no doubt lead to the destruction of human life. I expect I’ll get laughed at for suggesting such an event could ever occur, and don’t get me wrong, I certainly hope this is just me overthinking.

Here I am, like so many men, just going about my business, trying to get on with my damn life, yet I keep getting bombarded by equal rights this, feminism that, men can’t do this, political correctness that, disguised by what sometimes feels like the desire to put us down and raise some of these women nice and high up on that fancy horse of theirs. I’m getting sick of it.

I’m all for women not being treated like dirt, but I do feel it’s getting far out of hand when even simple gestures are blown up into something huge. There are even plenty of women who’re getting sick of it.

Today, just now, I was told that offering a woman a cup of tea apparently means you want to bone her, not only that, it’s apparently a punishable offense. Whether this is nonsense or not, and I sure hope it is, I can actually believe this to be a straight-up possibility; that’s how silly it’s getting.

Before you know it, it’ll be wrong to love a woman because it’s demeaning to her as a fellow human being. Maybe we’ll one day have to stop using words like “her” and “she,” since it distinguishes the gender, and thus shows we’re not equal! We’ll no doubt have to say things like peoplekind and huperson.

Oh deary me, it appears I cannot open the door for you, for it is sinfully immoral and undoubtedly offensive to all the women out there. Nevermind that it’s something I would perhaps do for a man or woman, be it family, a friend, or a stranger; it’s a simple courtesy and does not necessarily have to be related to your vagina.

Before you rage at me, I just want to apologise if this truly offends you. The content is quite blunt, but it’s also honest and genuine. Unless otherwise stated, when mentioning the female gender, I was not referring to every single woman on the planet.

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Stupid Things I’ve Done

We all do weird, silly, or just downright stupid things from time to time. I’m 29 years old, so I’ve had 29 years of opportunity—plenty more years left.

Flushing Eggs Down the Toilet

I don’t actually know a great deal about it but my dad loves to remind me of this!

When I was a toddler, I somehow went into the kitchen, grabbed a bunch of eggs, wandered off to the bathroom, then chucked and flushed a bunch of the eggs down toilet. Why? Your guess is as good as mine.

Vacuuming Water

Another weird one, but one I actually vaguely remember doing. I guess I just wanted to know what would happen, being the young teen I was. My dad discovered the hoover and you don’t have to be a genius to figure out that it didn’t work anymore.

Come to think of it, it’s probably quite lucky it didn’t explode or start a fire! Speaking of fire…

Playing with Fire

I’m sure we’ve all done this before, right? Home alone, I got a hold of one of my dad’s lighters, back when he used to smoke, once again during the young teen age.

I lit a piece of kitchen roll and waddya know, holding it in my hand became quite the challenge, so, panicked, I flung it out of the living room window. Luckily, the bit of kitchen roll landed on the neighbour’s conservatory and the flame soon died out.

Don’t play with fire, kids! That little scenario could’ve ended up very differently.

Writing Nonsensical Poems

I used to be big on poetry; at times, writing several poems a day. I loved coming up with rhymes and having a cool rhythm. I was actually quite good at sounding all deep; making my poems sound mysterious. Poetry was a fantastic way of getting across how I felt about something.

Unfortunately, my old poems were so mysterious that sometimes even I didn’t know what the heck I was on about. Looking back, I’d be surprised if I can make any sense of most of that angsty drivel.

I’ll never forget that one time when I showed someone a poem I had typed up; she was so taken back, related so much, that her eyes leaked a bit. They weren’t all garbage, I guess.

Bike Versus Car

Around the age of 15, I decided to race a car with my pedal bike; I don’t know why I thought that would be a clever idea, but then I was a kid and I often hand nothing but stupid ideas.

Needless to say, recklessly peddling super fast with a car right beside you is a recipe for disaster. My left pedal smacked into the curb and it caused me to do a rather epic flip; I landed on my back, winded for quite some time.

The car just drove off, no doubt with its occupants dying of laughter.

Compared to my next stunt, that was pretty tame.

Wall, Meet Hip

Perhaps a couple of years later, I have to admit that this one stuck with me for many more years, because it’s the one and only time I can recall being in a state of what the Internet tells me is unconsciousness, ‘though I’ve never been entirely sure what it was.

There’s a long, steep stretch of road before you reach my dad’s old flat where I used to live as a young’n. I enjoyed whizzing down the path of that fairly busy road as fast as I could; it was such a rush!

Along the road were various drives for residential houses and pubs. The drives often had a pretty awesome dip as they lead into the road itself. The paths were also rather raised, more so than the road itself. I loved flying through these dips to get up even more speed and feel a wicked rush.

Unfortunately, experiencing this particular rush cost me quite a bit of pain, when I completely misjudged one of the biggest dips and went flying into one of those low brick walls, you know, knee-height. My left hip went straight into the wall. Dear Lord, did that hurt!

I was with a friend at the time, but he didn’t realise how bad it could’ve been. I’m honestly surprised my hip didn’t shatter into pieces at the speed I was going.

I was laying on the side of the path for what felt like hours, disoriented, finding it very difficult to hear and understand what my friend was saying, struggling to see, and spoke as though I were blind drunk; the pain was pretty unpleasant, and moving anything was entirely out of the question.

By some miracle I managed to shamble home like a zombie after a bit of time sat on that path, back against the wall.

In hindsight, my friend was a tad useless and probably should’ve called for an ambulance, or at least went and got my dad who didn’t live far away. Having just googled the symptoms, it should’ve been treated as a “medical emergency.” Ah well. Lesson learned!

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Dear Extraterrestrials

I’m having a rather interesting evening sucking up all sorts of information via the interwebs. A thought occurred to me: what would I say to alien life should they come a-knockin’?

I’m probably going to sound like my deck has been replaced with soggy toilet paper shoved into a pack that once housed cards, but I have always wanted to be taken away.

There have been occasions in my life when I’ve looked up at the night sky full of undiscovered mystery, and then damn near begged the sky for someone to show me something more; something better. At first it was God, but as I got older, it became the stars; them.

Let’s assume these remarkable beings are not inherently aggressive, and are a lot like humans, but of course still completely alien. Let’s also assume these outlanders speak English, or are at least so massively smart that they can grasp such a language with ease.

“Hey there, martian. What brings you to my planet?”

I want to tell them we can be awe-inspiring; the compassion we can have for one another. At the same time, I rather desire to show them the bad side to humanity; the gluttony, the abhorrence, and the jealousy; to show them our blemishes in the hope that perhaps they have the answer, or at least some helpful wisdom.

I want to tell these sentient life forms that, together, we have felt deeply alone for such a long time. How many of us can be surrounded by others like us, yet still feel unheard, unseen, unappreciated, and even unloved.

I need to show them our strength, courage, and persistence. How one single person can fight tooth and nail for those he or she holds dear. How just one human being can stand tall for what it believes to be true and just. How one couple, despite all odds, can make their union work; to show the world that they will not be defeated.

I long for them to show me what exists out there. Who are they? Where are they from? What is their planet like? I want to learn from them and communicate with them. The possibilities are endless.

I don’t ask for much, do I?

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3 Things that Make me Happy

I don’t want this blog to be too depressing and negative. I’m fine with being a little depressing, but I don’t want y’all to shuffle off elsewhere, all miserable like. Sure, life is faeces sometimes, but it’s important to take a moment to acknowledge the things that make you happy. This is especially important for those with depression.

Here’s what makes me happy:

Elderly Couples Holding Hands

There’s a silly old romantic somewhere inside of me that smiles and feels all warm and fuzzy, like a fluffy kitten hugging a radiator (don’t ask) whenever I see an elderly couple all smiley, waltzing through town, hand in hand, without a care in the world. Dancy, dancy, dancy. La lalalaa. Seriously, it’s amazing.

This tells us love can conquer, when you’re old. You might be miserable for 99% of your life, but don’t worry, when you get all wrinkly, it’ll all change. I hear 80 is the new 20.

Making Someone Else Happy

I know this sounds like some silly, goody-two-shoes things to say, and like I’m just looking for an “aww, he’s such a good lad,” but actually, … I am! I’m wonderful.

Jokes aside, I enjoy making people smile and laugh; this goes doubly so when I have a special someone, but then I suppose that’s normal, otherwise I’d be a pretty boring partner, right? One of the annoying aspects of being single, at least for me, is that I don’t get that satisfaction of seeing a smile on the woman I adore; I don’t get to make nor hear her laugh because I said something undoubtedly stupid.

I know, I’m sick. I need to go find some knuckle-draggers and talk about boobs or something, to eradicate all this romantic bullcrap. Love isn’t real!

This tells us that not everyone is out to get you! There’s still that 0.01% of the population that are relatively decent people.

Challenging Myself … and Succeeding

I’m a pretty pessimistic person, it’s true. I’m cynical, as well. A true defeatist. In-fact, this blog is pointless; why did I even bother? I give up!

The odds are often stacked against me due to my mental health predicaments (OCD, anxiety, and a history of depression, if you’re a new reader) so when I manage to challenge myself, then succeed, it’s huge; a victory, and I’m all for victories, however small.

This tells us that I give myself crappy challenges sometimes we just need to feel a sense of accomplishment, and we can only really get that by setting challenges for ourselves.

While it’s nice to focus on that distant dream of being a billionaire, solving the mysteries of the universe, or trying to understand why cats are so adorable—you know, all of the important things—it’s still important to appreciate those smaller successes. We’re all winners.

A thank you to the Facebook page Mental Health and Invisible Illness Resources for sharing this blog entry.

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Swatting is All the Rage

What’s swatting? It’s when a pathetic piece of human waste uses someone’s personal details to call the police, as a prank, then make up horrendous crap, sometimes causing a SWAT team to be sent out to the person’s house, in all their brute, heavily armed force.

Just picture a young child happily playing a game like Call of Duty with his friends and streaming over Twitch when suddenly he hears banging on the door and angry shouting, shortly before a group of well-armed men charge into his bedroom and point loaded weapons at him; he got “swatted.”

I had no idea this was actually a thing; that those silly little trolls hiding behind their computer screens are actually weak enough to bring it to the real world in which children are at high risk of getting a bullet to the head, same goes for the families in general, and even animals such as dogs. What if a SWAT team decides a dog might be a threat because it’s defending its owner? Well, that’s a bullet to the little dog’s heart. Goodbye Dogmeat. Therapy for the traumatised family.

This has to stop—It’s absurd that it even got to this point.

Here is a YouTube video of Koopatroopa787 telling the public about his story of when 10 police officers came knocking on his door and ended up pointing several AR rifles at his family, including a little 10-year-old boy, his brother, all thanks to some malicious nobody behind a keyboard.

People need to know, for the safety of their families and themselves. Be very careful what you share with strangers online. Do you stream on Twitch? Make sure you’re safe about it. Be very wary with whom you share your address, your phone number, and even your IP. In-fact, if you’re a particularly big name, you may wish to follow in the steps of YouTube sensation, boogie2988, who also has some solid words to share on the matter.

On the bright side, one such swatter, Brandon Wilson, also known as Famed God (I know, could that sound any more pretentious?) aged 19, is facing 5 years in prison for swatting, and for making financial threats towards his victim’s banking and social security account, as well as saying that he would put the poor person’s father “in dept for life.” Brandon’s charges are known as follows:

  • Two counts of computer tampering.
  • One count of intimidation.
  • One count of identity theft.
  • One count of disorderly conduct.

Apparently, “3 other states are looking at this guy and may throw additional charges his way,” says Richard Masucci. Justice is wonderful, but it is a shame a mere 19-year-old lad, barely a man, is so messed up that he could do something so horrible.

TwT doesn’t even remotely have enough readers to massively help with the awareness of such a grave issue, but every little helps, right? Please share this post with your friends and family so that I’ll have at least done my part in raising awareness and hopefully deterring would-be “swatters.”

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3 Movies that Blew Me Away

I love movies and have done for as long as I can remember. Go back far enough and you have my dad amassing a huge collection of VHS tapes that were all stacked and lined up on shelving units in our old living room—good times. Now we’re in the age of streamed media and blu-ray discs!

I’d like to share with you, in no particular order, some of my favorite movies that blew me away:


You’ll think twice before hopping into a coffin while still alive, thanks to the 2010 movie written by Chris Sparling and directed by Rodrigo Cortés.

Very few movies can make me feel as helpless like Buried does. I’ve never really had a fear of being 6ft under and having not yet actually kicked the bucket, although it is of course a scary thought. This movie, however, introduces such a fear and it does it somewhat obnoxiously, in a good way! I love it so much that I’m actually watching it again, right now.

Buried doesn’t mess around at all, getting straight into the action, or at least as much action as a guy, played by Ryan Reynolds, trapped in a wooden box with little else but a phone, an empty wallet, a lighter, a small drinking flask, and some coins. The first think to do? Ring for help of course!

When I first heard about Buried, I was curious as to how it would come together. I wondered how the camera would manage to capture all the action without feeling too restricted and clumsy. Somehow, it just all works and boy is it claustrophobic and tense as hell!

Seeking a Friend for the End of the World

A heart-tugging 2012 film written and directed by Lorene Scafaria. Don’t be too surprised if, after watching the movie, you end up searching for a friend, just in-case it all ends.

I’m embarrassed to say it, but this flick actually managed to bring a tear to my eyes. The looming doom of an asteroid threatening to end it all, the constant sense of finality, and the bittersweet carrot dangling in-front of my face as I hoped the hopeless couple would just get together already! I couldn’t not love it.

I’m a big fan of survival stories, particularly those focused around the end of the world or even after the end of the world, or at least the world as we know it. Just part of the human morbid curiosity! Although I feel that Seeking a Friend for the End of the World isn’t quite a survival movie, such as the famous 2000 Tom Hanks movie, Cast Away, written by William Broyles Jr. I found myself being drawn into a movie less about surviving and more about calling it quits but finding some happiness before the inevitable demise.

Unsurprisingly, I found that Keira Knightley did a smashing job and looked gorgeous in the process, paired up surprisingly well with Steve Carell‘s deadpan humor.


The first time I watched the 2014 film, Interstellar, my jaw was practically on the floor almost the entire time, particularly when it started kicking into gear. Directed by Christopher Nolan and written by both Christopher and Jonathan Nolan.

Matthew McConaughey managed a pretty stellar performance (OK, that joke is probably done just about everywhere else) and to be honest, I think everyone did a fantastic job. I was so blown away by Interstellar that, if I recall correctly, after the film, I immediately went onto YouTube and other sites in search of people’s theories about the movie and how it might compare to reality.

Being a Sci-Fi fan, it came as no surprise that Interstellar would be one of my favorite movies of all space and time, despite the arguably overused guy steps up to save the world trope.

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My friend is moving out!

I had yet another late night—a little after three in the morning. At about 10:30am I started hearing this loud, urgent knocking on our front door. This place is mostly floored with lino, so the knocks bounced around the flat making it super loud. I peeled myself off the bed and clambered about for my clothes, all the time getting annoyed at the loud, persistent knocking.

Man, who the hell was it!? I was on my way to the door, quite annoyed, and said, “alright, fucking hell, I’m coming!” I heard a gentle female voice shout “sorryyyyy!” coming from behind the door, at which point I knew it was my support worker—oops.

I let my support worker in, and she kept apologising, but the urgency was for a good reason! My flatmate is being moved on to his own place. I have mixed feelings about it. I am pleased for him, don’t get me wrong, he’s lucky to be going where he is, but I can’t help but to be really gutted because he’s a friend, and things are really settled here. There’s no arguments about cleaning or who did this and who did that; to quote Todd Howard, “It just works.”

Luckily, my flatmate mentioned that it’ll be alright because he can visit his other friend, his dad, and me, at which point I was relieved, and told him as much, since I was worried this was gonna be the end of that chapter.

Who will I end up with next? I’m worried I’m going to end up with another person like my last flatmate who made living at that place hell, so much that I lost my temper with him, after which I flat-out refused to live there and ended up somewhat homeless for a couple of months. I’m due to be moved on out of here myself, so I just have to be patient; it’s just all the stuff in-between that worries me.

On the bright side, at least I’ll have somewhere else to go. Isn’t positivity grand?

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