Unforgiving Perspective

Unforgiving perspective,
One I try,
I owe, to do my best,
To try and make the world better, Brighter,
Because…
I owe.

I try and owe this.
Unforgiving,
Myself.

Even if all is okay,
In my head,
The overthinking,
It isn’t. It isn’t enough. What I do.
So I try, try and try.
Always wanting to do more.
Always oweing more.
So I try.

On with an unforgiving perspective.
I owe.

What’s worst,
If all is okay and well.
I hurt,
I, not hurt.
But want to do more.

I feel I owe.
I try.
And am never satiated,
Always unforgiving,
That I don’t do enough.

A story, perspective, on my life.
Always trying my best,
But never satisfied.
So until then, I try.
And want to try and do more.

A world away from the past.
How far I have come.
So much done,
That felt impossible.
I try.

But always unforgiving with what I try.
The trying.
Willing myself to action.
To try.
Fulfill a debt I have placed on myself.
Being.
Trying.

I try.
I hope its enough.
I try.
Though I never feel it enough.
So I try.
Try,
Keep on trying.

I owe.

Even as all is okay, I owe.
I feel,
I try.
But unforgiving in perspective.

Trying, to find a way,
To know,
To forgive myself,
To know,
To be.
To feel,
Okay, with trying.

I think. Feel. Try. And be.

But the perspective doesn’t leave me.
It doesn’t.

For many years,
This.
I try.
All I can do.
I need to.
Need to try harder.

Each memory, thought, burned into my mind.
Wanting to try harder.
Hurting.
Even as all is okay.

I don’t know.
I need to.


Writing this, thinking, mistakes. How I can’t forgive myself for many things even though I really know I should. I should.

I try, never feel it enough. Constantly reminded I know, I work, I’m friends with amazing people. Even if nothing is wrong, I don’t feel okay, don’t feel I’m doing enough. Even though I try. Even if no one’s said anything.

Don’t know, I forgive others without a second to think, but myself I cannot. I know I should. But yeah.

Thinking of my past, what was impossible and I have succeeded with a lot of it, going to Uni, doing any of it. Having got a job. So much. So much I’m grateful for, eternally grateful, but even having got so far, I can’t forgive myself.

Thinking of my diagnosis, and an article I read about Autism that had a high percentage of people with it cannot get a job, find it difficult doing simple things. A lot I’ve managed, with help from all amazing people. Yet I cannot give myself some slack. Maybe I should? I don’t feel I should. I owe it, owe everyone. But leaves me to being unforgiving of all I do. Not feeling I’m doing enough, even if I know it’s all I can. Always trying.

Everything is good, writing just thinking, of how I’m too harsh on myself but I really can’t help it. Never have been able to. Since I was a very very young kid. I don’t know. So I try to make up for it. Something I always thought of, as a penance, something I owe.

Yet I can’t forgive myself, even if I try my best. Everything is going okay, but still, the overthinking. I really can’t help it. I try. But my trying never amounts to as much as I really wish it would.

So I try. I keep on trying. To maybe come close to what I feel I owe, I try.

And I hope it can be good enough. Even if it is, I never feel it is. Oh well. Overthinking. Always.

People often don’t get my way of thinking, years ago, drunk, I told a boss I try, because I owe it to my job, I would have had to drop out of Uni if it wasn’t for my job. This isn’t why I got it, but every day I feel I owe. So I try. And always feel I owe more, need to try more.

Everything is okay, just overthinking. Always. But I try. It’s all I can. I can only hope all I can is good enough.

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The World As It Goes

The world as it goes,
The times and flow.

Memories of old.

As it all flows,
Empty,
Turning to dust,
As I walk on through the desert.

Cold with the touch of night.
Only to walk on,
Being me,
True.

Knowing the path,
Walking it,
Only in the being.
For,
The time being.

A path,
Laid out years in advance,
Boredom from the knowing,
Seeing before seen.
Always,
This overthinking.

Now in being,
Trying,
And making.

A world,
Boring to the mind’s touch,
Everything, so bland.

Anything to try,
Keep occupied.

In the manufactured loss.


Been an okay day, lots of photography, thinking of my best friend tbh, who I owe so much to. But also just generally pondering.

Words To The Feeling

Of it all,
Pondering,
Pain,

A world so real and full of it all,

To feel,
Be,
Validated, without intention,
Making, what was real,
More so,
A burden lifted.

Helped through the time,
To keep,
Defiance by my name.

To hold truth,
To rage and be,
To understand and feel,
Allow the pain to be real,
To heal over,
Make true.

To be.

To allow,
To heal,
Defiantly,
To rage into the pain of life.
To remember the strife,
Caused.
Broke me,
To allow me to see.

Thank you,
With all my gratitude.

Bringing forth a flame to burn bright.
Letting me see, see and see again.

There are none.
No words to express.
Words to the feeling.


Hung out with my best friend I haven’t seen in ages. They apologised for not being able to meet up, not making time. Truth is I avoided it. Needed to sort stuff out. Finally got to see them and feeling a world better.

One thing I said, they thanked me, for putting the words to the feeling, something they didn’t know how to put. And hearing that lit me up inside. Happy to help, understand and be understood. Helped to validate pain I felt without seeking, needing or wanting it.

Amazing day, work was hectic but got stuff done, felt a bit bad at work, just my mind, always trying my best and never being good enough as I want, even if others don’t think that. I do, always wanting to be better. Then seeing my friend was amazing in the silliest and mundane things but was amazing. Seeing another friend in the evening.

Feeling good and things are lifting up.

One Step At A Time

One step at a time,
One step into and through place.

Thinking,
Grateful,
And making it.

Taking it all one step,
Step by step,
At a time.

Trying,
Feeling,
Being.

Trying,
To be,
Trying to be.
All the while.

Trying, trying.
Trying to be my best.

Trying into the calling into the night.

Knowing,
And trying through the darkness,
To be in place,
To find my time.

Trying to be.
One step at a time.

Trying, writing, speaking.
Out in the world.

Letting the world speak softly,
Whispers of pain,
Memories of torture,
It’s all the same.
In my step by step.

As the world speaks,
I trying,
Facing it all.

A tear,
Shed because I am tired.
But once again,
Step by step down this road I tread,

Making this path,
Trying,
To be,
Despite the pain of the past.

Taking this path.
One step at a time.


First day I haven’t been going out in like a week. Finally can write. Has been really stressful and the last couple of days really good. Today’s been good. Happy with friends I work with, happy and needed this time, a lot of times with friends and drinking.

I’ve needed this. After an especially rough time.

Been a good day, relaxed, and now pondering of life, pain, times.

After the Time.

After the time,
The time moves past,
Helping,
Left to the thoughts.
Feeling okay, but the thoughts.
Always, they stay.

Of the time,
Within the time,
Moments in the mind,
Thinking on and on,
A restless mind.

Okay in the moonlight,
Remembering,
Just moments that pass,
As it goes,
As the thoughts flow,
Calm,
Inside the confines of the mind,
Calm pondering,
Calm within the thoughts.

As life goes,
It just goes,
The calm night,
Relaxing in its moment of solitude,
Trapped in a mind.
But it’s not so bad.

It’s just something I’ve just,
Gotten used to.
Times.
Oh of all those times.
The ringing of life.

Within its calm flow,
Within the light,
Of the night.

As the night goes on,
Calming at peace.
Watching the sea reflection,
The large moon shine.
Lights of the city,
Sounds of the night.

Calm,
In its reminder of life,
Of a time,
Of all time.
As moments come, go, fade and linger.
Moments like a song,
And its eventual fade.

As the night shines,
Trying to remind,
Of life,
All that’s going so well,
Yet an empty feeling,
Comes and goes.

Flows and goes on.
In the moment,
Feeling in this time,
Confusion and peace.
Within living.
Remembering scars,
Left to the side.
Burnt aside.

Remembering gold,
Trying to hold onto,
Small moments,
Times.

Just.
Just after the time.


Had a good day today, a bit of photography after work made everything nicer.

I don’t feel down, or I guess not. Even before writing I know that this poem will probably end up being a bit sad. But that’s how it goes.

Did good, helped put minds at ease of colleagues of mine. Just feels good helping. But as always, just left thinking, after helping others. Now I think about this, it’s been like this for a long while. But more recently in the last few years.

Another photo I took today.

Playing This Game

Playing this game,
A game, rules corrupt and unkind.

Having to play their own game to go on.
No matter how I don’t want,
Playing this game.

Rewarding emptiness with.a face turning away,

No time or place,
In a world inkind, uncaring.
No place for kindness given,
Taken and left,
Only until needed once again,
To give what the world doesn’t show,
Waiting in vain,
Hoping for kindness to come,
As I always try,
Only trying to keep true,
Always shown to be useless,
Taken advantage of,
As I walk off the cliff,
Over and over again.

The same scene,
Playing over and over again.

Seeing what always passed,
Expected,
Coldness,
In the world I try.
Warned by so many,
A reminder of the world so cold,
Uncaring in its whole.

Knowing the game,
But having always refused to play.
But I go on,
Only to see and hope it changes.
For kindness, as I always try.
Knowing,
I’m fighting the game itself.
As I try and try,
To change the rules,
To make kindness,
To be,
To try,
And change the rules.

Looking up,
At the star-speckled sky.
Hoping and trying to change,
Through kindness I wholeheartedly give,
Knowing, I fail,
Fail to change.
The mind refusing to surrender,
Keeping on trying.

Playing this game,
Changing up the rules,
Hoping to change,
Showing what is in need.
What everyone wants, hope for,
Small kindnesses,

Always trying,
In a game that’s so tiring,
But I don’t tire,
Hope for the change.


Thinking, last night, was a little rough, only a little. A friend, my friend apologised to me, or kind of, they recognised some stuff they did and how rough it was, the way they treated me. Even my reply, being so used to it, being used, ripped apart.

Chatting today was better so much nicer and they’re coming down to see me and they’re coming earlier and going to a friend’s party with me.

Got me thinking, if I got a penny for every time I’ve been used or wronged then I’d own an island of my own.

Lots of apologies given, they always seem to alien, I’m used to being abused without remorse. Sad. Sad. Upsetting but oh well.

Caring, that’s the problem. Most people, friends and otherwise ask, why bother caring without ensuring I’m paid back. But that’s not me. I do, hoping, kindness can be repaid with kindness while not expected. But that’s not how humans work.

I guess I need to learn the human game, and play humans at their own game.

Had a good day, guess I’m just thinking.

The Calling

The calling,
The feeling,
Living in the day and the night.

Remembering and holding on.
All the calls,
Within the night,

As it all goes,
Hope,
Brought from within memory.

A call back,
Into the once light shine.

As this light goes.
Fueled from within,
Through the light and memory.
Hopes, through uncertainty.

Memories clear and bright as the day.
As with those sweetest memories,
To stay and keep,
To keep for and from another day.

A.
Reminder of another bright day.
Another time,
Another place,
Another feeling.
Giving me feeling in place,
Another light burning bright.

The light of another time.
Through and into calling.
Light, shining bright.

A fire to let me go on.
Hope and light,
To call me out of darkness.
Hope for light.

Calling for light, life and for another time.


Writing this, thinking, of the good thought, the good memory, of my friend who’s gone abroad, having an amazing time and the memories of those many but all too few times. Messaging late at night, all those times. Waiting for their bus with them, chatting, laughing, hanging out, nerding over our passions and past-times. Giving me some hope.

Looking at the Scars

Looking at the scars,
Memories through the time.
As I see them before me.
Scars lingering on.

Even once past,
The scars.
In looking into the light,
Scars glistening,
Reflecting me,
A show of light,
Of darkness.

The cold sting,
From old scars,
Just as if they were new,

The lingering,
Of darkness to light.
A reminder,
How light comes,
Keeping and shadows stick to,
Standing in the light,
The shadow, staying with,
Being in the light.

Coping better,
As the scars stay,
Reminders,
Staying close.

Waiting for the day to break,
Knowing the shadows,
The scars, stay,
Glistening in detail,
Memories, of their incision,

Into the mind,
And into place.


Wrote this, had a good and happy thought, memories of a friend who’s abroad, one I care about, the last few nights, of many, the few dinner and movie nights. They cooked dinner, I brought Ben & Jerrys, watched a movie that meant a lot in their childhood. And the time, we went neon crazy golf, it was good.

This memory, led to bad ones, funny, how the scars stay, memories stay, just as scars.

This is a poem, of the scars and shadows that stay.
Memories, scars, of the mind.

Guilt

The moment,
The time,
Guilt ever-filling.
Guilt for the self,
for what I do to you,
The mind, my mind,
The face of guilt,
For what I do, feel and see.

The face of me,
As a tear runs down,
Knowing my fate.
Walking this path.
Knowing. All along.

The demons hold,
Not like before,
The gentle grip,
Unlike before,
A whisper in my ear,
Showing me,
No escape.
As I,
Continue on.

A gentle grip,
Never letting go,
But less violent, more long-lasting.

As I know, feel and see.
Knowing freedom,
Unattainable,
Pain, always coming.
All that can be hoped for,
Temporary respite,
Until I see,
See the hand on my shoulder,
Gripping me.

Not knowing,
So I sit here fixed.
Wondering.
Thinking.

Unable to think clearly,
As I sit.
Just waiting,
While this grip holds on.

And I hold guilt,
For not setting myself free,
Not being able to,
Not knowing how to try,
Not willing to try,
As I. Fixed in place.

Warnings so clear,
Alarms in my mind.
Alarms all around.
Yet guilty,
For the grip holds,
I stopped, stopped shaking it off.

Unsure in place,
I exist.
Guilty, for continuing.
For going on.
For knowing now,
What I’ve known all along.
I am complicit.
Complicit.
And from complicity, comes guilt, sorrow. Continuity.

My mind burning with sorrow,
From the guilt,
The lies I need to tell myself;
That it’s fine.
That it goes on.
As the choice makes the guilt.

Never surprised,
When knowing all along.
And knowing into it all.
Complicit with guilt.
Sorrowful.

What’s worst,
Is knowing,
Having known all along.
Making guilt find me.
Actions my own.
Actions for a pain my own.

Knowing it all.
My pain so deep.
Only wishing an escape,
Resolved to living in the pain.
Living, continuing and just going on,
The pretense of normalcy, normality.
Normality of pain.
When it cuts so deep.

As I know.
Have known.
Go on.

With the guilt gripping me,
Choices made, from choices I didn’t.

Sitting alone,
Better this way,
In my throes of pain.
Knowing the path ahead,
The sorrow and guilt there.
My friends to make.
Life to be.

Hoping where there is none,
That the pain will fade,
Living with the mind’s scars.
Raw as ever.
Deep and new always.
The rupture and bleed,
Sad but true,
As I know.
Complicit in its making.
And okay with it,
Okay and knowing.
With this pain.
Washing all other troubles away,
A tsunami to wash away the ripples.

Waves,
Crashing at my feet.
Sinking into the blackened sand.
The sea-rumble,
Never to drown out the thoughts,
As I lie,
On the cold ground,
Sitting, thinking, living,
In this time.

As I slip away,
My mind takes me,
Losing piece by piece.
Time after time.

Saddened with every choice,
Choices not for choosing.
As the time passes,
Barely noticing.

Loss so deep.
With a corrupted mind.
Pained into submission.

All the feelings,
A mixed mess,
Of happiness, sadness and all in between.
Just the feeling,
Ripping at my soul.
As I lie unfeeling through feeling.
Tired, but the body wont give up.

All-consumed,
By guilt, my own.
Sorry for all said,
Sorry for feeling.
As with this all.
Dying inside,
Until I don’t notice.

Tears cannot flow anymore,
After so long,
A pain longlasting.
Nothing more.
Pain taken it all long ago.

And just left.
Guilt.
Just guilt.
Over it all;
All done, said, felt, and complicity.


Was okay, but as always, seems to turn out a lie. Writing this, doesn’t help, but I need this. Just need to write, life and experiences, living, pain and sorrow. My guilt.

The picture, taken earlier today.

Despair Raging Deep

Despair raging deep,
The pain running deep.
Despair the home I find myself in.

Pain all known.
Dying inside piece by piece.
Only despair to be found,
Inside,
Inside the confines of my mind.

Oh on the inside,
Of my mind.
Calm and dying.

Inside it all.

I just find myself inside.
Wrapped in chains,
Inside my mind.

So dark and so cold.

In a world so ambivalent,
So cold and uncaring,
Yet I,
Foolish enough to try.

To try and be,
To try and keep,
To be me.
Foolish enough to try.

As the ice closes in.
The winds change.
And all to be found,
Icy cold winds of time.

As time, drifts off.

Calm, at peace in the pain.
To remember the crimes,
And my own, inability.
To see the pain, hate and hurt.
Until too late.

Warned too many times,
But into the trap I walked.
And,
As I hear the sea-waves crash.
I realise,
The pain malicious and uncaring,
I stop.
And die.

The words of a friend,
“Not my business, not my problem”.
The story of life,
Everyone is death.
Uncaring, fake and hurtful all the same.

Ripping it all out of me,
Rupturing inside.
To remember and consume.
All the pain,
Remembering,
Never to mistake lies and pain for a kindness, truth meant.

Letting the memories,
Pain and break,
Rupture me.

Just to let it rupture and rip at me.

Blow me apart,
Ripping, Rupture and pain.
To break and remind.
The ripping into my heart and soul.
Reminding through the fires of pain.
Break, break, break and rupture.
The ripping of the soul,
The forging through the pain.
To rip, rupture and remind.
Break me. Break me. Break me like you always have before and fucking get it done.
Let it all rip apart.
Rupture it all.
Until I will just stop.
Till the daylight breaks.
Left to forget the pain.
Through… the pain.

At peace,
In writing,
Reminding.
Having had. Enough warnings.
So fucking do this,
Break me apart and let’s do this.
Break me apart and lets try to rip me apart.
I do enough and I know you’ve tried.
Always tried,
I see clearly,
It’s only sad, to see, To realise you meant this for me.

So lets finish the job.

Ripping me apart,
Breaking every bone and soul.
Making me whole without anythig,
Happy to see the broken.
Let’s go.
Breaking apart to see,
What can be left,
What can be broken.
What can be torn apart.


Feeling slightly better, ripping my mind apart, drinking on the beach, for a couple hours, thinking, pondering and realising what I should have all along, kinda did but never truly, realising the true intent of pain. Grateful for friends I have lost, who have given up on me, for not realising this. Grateful, even from afar.