Withdrawn

Withdrawn,
The mind, tired of hiding behind ignorance.
Only to see,
Only to embrace,
What is never to be seen.

Horrors of the past laid out bare.
A collection. Thinking.
And I think.

Down a dark corridor,
No light to be seen.
Thought to be new,
Until I realise,
This is how,
It’s always been,
But not wanted to be.
So I chose not to see.

To turn my eye.

And try to try.

And I see it all.
Laid out.
No matter.
How I try.

Thinking.
Wondering.

A path,
I tried not to see.

Bit worried, saw my best friend after ages, felt a little out of it. Been pondering recent anxieties. It was awesome and I loved it. Can’t help wondering if I upset them. They probably would never tell me if I did. But I do.

Thinking of experience, paths, future. Thinking.

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Disappointed

Just disappointed,
With what thrown my way.

Unable, to take a step back.
Unable to forward.
Left.

Just wishing

Wanting. Just empty. Wishing. Just left.
Empty.

Nothing to turn to.
Every way I think leads in emptiness.

It all.
Just cannot.


Just disappointed. In myself. In people. All people. Hope leads only to disappointment.

I starved myself in my first year of Uni. Even went into a store to feel less hungry, eating food through my eyes. All my degree never got what I wanted. Anxiety and all. All only to afford my degree. Only barely. Everything. First time I really second guess my decision to move. Move. I don’t want to go home. Left with nothing. I can’t be bothered. The new year. Hasn’t started well. I guess it’s never started well for me. My worst days are others’ amazing ones. All I can do is drink and just drink.

All the pain, struggle, for nothing. All to show for it, a façade. A pretence for others.

I just give up. Just wish my body would let me. Depression is always. Anxiety is always. I just try not to notice it. Just try not to think about it.

Just had a plan, a party to spend New Year’s, was effectively cancelled as soon as I left for it, drinking on the beach alone, couldn’t be bothered to stay 30 mins for fireworks. Regret going out. Regret not staying for fireworks. Regret not going home for the holidays, would regret staying home for New Year’s Eve. I have one wish since I was 12 and it’s always been out of reach. But I wish. Staying for reasons not your own. Chained, but not being what you want.

Just so tired

Just so tired,
Of the emotions,
A rollercoaster that throws me off balance,

Even when good, emotions kill me.
And when not, darkness consumes.

Just so tired of feeling,
Emotions,
Exhaustion with thinking.
Leaving me collapse,
For the thinking,
Leaves me exhausted.

Wanting rest,
From something I can’t escape,
My mind, the overthinking, people.
All contributing,
Not that I know how.
Left with an uncertainty of feeling, of being.

Never knowing what is true.
Living day by day,
Ignoring what can’t be ignored.
Trying when failing.
As living, is fighting, fighting against living.
Living a life where the mind,
It is pain. Just pain.
I seek an escape,
But none never lasts,
And here I find myself again.

Just thinking,
Questioning,
Myself more than anything.
And in pain, with every moment thinking.

As living, is fighting, fighting against living.
Living a life where the mind,
It is pain. Just pain.
I seek an escape,
But none never lasts.


Had been good the last few days, this morning was a bit mixed, thinking, overthinking and being sick of being. But feeling okay, immersing myself in photography even if not doing any today as I was too tired.

Just mixed. With these problems seems the only answer is to not think of them, as Rick from my favourite tv show says. Unfortunately not sure if I’ll be allowed.

To Try and Show

To try,
To show,
Fighting a world, that’s fighting me.
Fightin to try,
Fighting to help,
To try and show,
Exhausting, with everything,
And having to take this burden,
To just plod through the fields,
To help,
To try and help,
As I see,
Such pain others hide.
Breaks me inside.
Always has broken me.

So I try,
Try to see,
Try to feel,
Try to show,
And it breaks me.

But I try.
Try to help,
To show kindness, care.

All the pains,
As the sight in a daily grind,
A glimpse I see,
One I ponder daily,
Just to see,
And I wonder.
Sad at not being able,
Able to help,
But wanting to try,
But knowing how,
Or if.

And so.
I see and on it goes.

All and all,
Collapsing around me,
And I just watch,
Trying,
But only left watching,
As it all comes to nought,
As I try.

Trying to help yourself,
Can bring the darkness.

And I try.
Try to show,
And fought every step of the way.

Left with nothing else to try,
To rip apart my mind,
To try and show,
Try and care,
To help.

Just.
Just to try.

Cannibalising my mind, my life,
For another purpose,
To help.

But it rips me apart.
But I’m left with no choice,

To try, to show,
To fail, and try again.
I want to try,
But it’s getting harder and harder,
The uphill struggle.

Even now I don’t want to.
The feeling hurts,
I really don’t want to.

But if I have to.
If I have to. I will.
Just to try and help.

So I will.
I’ll try,
I’ll hurt.
And hurt again after.
All just to try, to show.


Writing this, had felt happy today, kinda still do, but feeling sad. Thinking. My dad’s in a rut, so is my mum. Both separated but in their ruts. I have my own stuff to deal with but I have to try and help. I help this person I barely know in America, been chatting for months I think by now? Trying to help, be kind, let them talk and confide in me. Just to try to help.

I know I don’t like talking about personal stuff to anyone but a couple of close friends. But I may have to force myself uncomfortably so to try, or at least just to try to help my dad. Maybe it will, maybe it wont, maybe it’ll only make things worse. I never have liked seeing people in pain, have been accustomed to, seem very sensitive to this overall from past memories of this and my diagnosis corroborates this.

Really hate the situation I’m gonna have to put myself in, but will do so and try to block it out of mind. Just so I can help, or try.

But really don’t know what more I can do.

Mum’s stubborn and I give help and advice and she ignores or just puts off any hope for improving things even as I try to make things into small steps to help someone to take. My dad, well, I just don’t know how to help and things just seem to be getting worse. Or maybe this is all just in my head, but I really do not know. But I’m pretty sure it isn’t.

Some friends have even said, try to help but then you have to stop to keep yourself going. That is something I’ve never been good at. Ever since I was a kid. I remember in school an uncomfortable thought from my psychology teacher who was a psychologist in a prison, he said, “there are just some people you just can’t help” and I wrestled with this idea for at least months continually after that. And still to this day apparently. I know the statement is logically true, I know my friend was right, that I can’t try to fix my parents’ problems to my own detriment or against my own life, but I don’t really see a choice. It’s the last card I have.

I don’t know, it’ll be rough. It’ll be rough on me, having to put myself into an uncomfortable place, worse that many others in the past. But I just guess I have to try, just to help. Oh well.

Conflicted Mind

Conflicted,
I stand,
Set out,
Choices,
Collapsing under the weight,
I try to carry,
With no prompt but my own.

Blame I place upon me,
To hold me true,
To force me,
This pains me,
But I must.
I try.
Overthinking,
Painful,
Tearing apart inside.

No one does this to me,
For I do it alone,
But it always hurts inside,
Thinking, thinking.
Mind conflicted,
Into the night my mind must go.

And leave a question unanswered,
Wondering where to go.


Writing this, thinking, spent an amazing time with my dad, but also very worried, nervous and conflicted. I can’t go back home to live but know my dad may feel alone. Maybe. I can’t go home for Christmas and don’t mind this for myself but do for my dad. I don’t know. I worry. For most things I don’t care about myself, I can cope, make do, survive, but I care more about others. And it conflicts me totally. Always feeling my choice is always wrong.

Dad’s going through a rough time, and I feel helpless, I try, I worry. I can’t do anything. This compiles with my own worries, anxieties and then there is my diagnosis. I really try. I really do. Being hurts, it is worth it, but is painful.

Memories From The Present

Memories from the present,
Reminders of a past,
So alien,
So full of demons,
Me.

As the times flow past.
Bringing perspective,
Sadness,
Being.

Times stuck.
For others,
As I find myself,
Chained.

Anger, sadness, pain, memories.
Wanting to push away.
So I,
Can slip away unknowingly.
Just to be.
To make what I want.

Having knowingly erased,
Most of my past,
My childhood.
Always remember,
But suppress,
Hide from view,
For myself and others.
The time erased.
The time I have burned from view.

Living in the moment,
With the reminders,
The scars, fresh and old.

Fragile flesh,
Tree rings,
Marking the times,
For the living.
All that’s come and to bring.

All the scars from wars fought,
Wars of the world and mind,
Scars from the battlefield called life.


Spent just under 12 hours asleep. Was kinda peaceful, spent a lot of time not thinking, unconscious. Nightmares concerning work, but only a bit, luckily once asleep, even nightmares seem disjointed and not connected to reality and hence they’re easier to cope with. It’s just the nightmare, and not a long list of memories.

When I finally left the house, just for a cig after a stressful week, a song came on, one I haven’t heard in a while. Reminded me of some times in secondary school, half my lifetime in the past, reminding me, being cheeked, always the unceasing memories. But they weren’t too bad. So far in the past. But always clear, I could take a boat home and go straight to that room even now, half a lifetime in my past.

Feeling calmer, empty but calmer. I probably needed this despite wishing I had done some photography but had no motivation today. Hopefully after a week of 6ams I can do some everyday, hoping the week can get better, even one good day seems like quite the ask so far.

But we’ll see.

Thinking of how far I’ve come, much further than I thought. Much further. Also reminds me of depression in secondary school and my promise to myself that I wouldn’t make it to my 23rd birthday. I can’t believe I’ve made it to 20, not by choice but yeah. We’ll see. Oh well.

Reminds me of my promise to my best friend, that they don’t have to worry about me, I’m existing, not by choice, but unfortunately just stuck, so everyone doesn’t have to worry, apart from me, stuck in existence, but not by choice. But yeah.

Awake for 40 mins and now probably time to go to bed again for work.

Sleeping The Day Away

Sleeping the day away,
A shelter, from thought, worry, anxiety.

From the trying comes my failure,
Worry, of failing others.

Broken, in time.

Have people lied so long?
And the truth is coming out now?

Is this state the truth?

Leaving me hollow, empty.

Seeing the signs,
My mind worsening.
A tumor growing,
A tumor of being.

Not knowing what to do.
I tried, I try.
So hard.

The brain, warping, rupturing.
Breaking down anything before it.

Wanting to cry it out.
But feeling so empty.
Empty as I look before,
Seeing my failures splayed.

Trying to find the strength,
To get through,
To make well,
To go out,
To free myself with passion, enthusiasm.

But I tire,
As the overthinking crushes every feeling,
Every inclination.
Feeling failure.

As I think, trying to will myself to betterment.
I tire.
Trying all.

Wanting to do my best,
To help,
To be kind.

As you pass and see the world’s beauty.
Don’t even feel like looking.
Given up on seeing.

A sad set of affairs,
Watching myself fall and fall.
Just watching, seeing the breaking apart. Helpless.

Only trying,
And everything people’s said,
Plays over and over.
A write-off for the day, as my trying ends in failure.


A stressful shift. Can’t help but think I did everything wrong. Always. What’s worst. Is me. Asbergers if I have it, is always thinking, playing all the worst moments over and over in my head, unceasingly. Making me feel sick and tired. Not sleepy but tired.

Was looking forward to doing some photography today after shift. But don’t feel like it. Just feel like sleeping the day away, so I cannot do anything else wrong. I did all I could, all I thought right. But at least, when unconscious I won’t think.

It started well, really well, but ended stressful and shit.

Again, what’s worst, it’s not like anyone said I did a shit job, maybe it was thought by them, maybe it wasn’t. But I can’t help but think and think. Till I feel like retching. Not even sure. But I tried. I always try.

Today is a write-off.

Hoping to heal, but yet another blow.

Can’t even think. I tried.

After recent stuff, really didn’t think this day could end so bad.
Hooing I could be on the mend.
But instead I feel myself slipping down in more ways than one.
Giving me worries for any future.

How is everything going so bad? Is it even? Or a fault in my brain?

Probably didn’t help that I didn’t take a break, but I didn’t have time, and would have preferred to not take one and try make better.

I don’t even feel like eating. I just want to sleep.

Didn’t think this year could go so bad. I have less stress paying for a Masters, more time to relax and do what I want, less stress with exams and more time. More time just to try my best just with work, to do good work, to help. To do good work.

Just losing everything. Hard. I just cannot escape my body or my mind. Trapped. Everything, especially me, just breaking me apart.

I really wanted to move away from home and now, I am losing myself, every reason I had, just unfeeling. I don’t have a desire to move back, but losing everything I wanted. So left with nothing. As I try.

Slipping

Slipping as I try.
Try, try, try my all.

Giving all I can.
Just to try.
Fighting the world, crushing down.

But I try.
I tried.
Buckling under the weight.
Buckling as the world forces its true weight.

Feeling a ghost,
Wherever I walk.
Without knowing why.

Everything,
The good of the world,
Feeling like an empty memory,
Even in its presence.

Anger and emptiness,
Fueling my spectral walk.

Through the dark streets, dark fields.
Taking in the moonlit night.
The lights of the city,
Calming,
But still… empty.

The thunder, hail, rain,
Give me peace within its lack.

Empty, emptied out, into the night.
Tired.
Given up.

Lost in the world.
A world so empty and cold.
Lies told.
Creation of a world not my own.
Enough to fool myself,
For but a moment.

Some small peace from being.
And after, the moment is gone.

Staring out into the rain.
Let the rains fall,
Battering against my skin,
So unfeeling.
One where sadness cannot touch me,
Devoid of all feeling.
An uncomfortable state of being.
Giving in.
Letting be.

Giving up the fight so hard.

As the world cries the rain.

Everything fading, before my eyes.
Shivering so cold.

A world.
One where I cannot fight.
Survive.

Dying inside, every second.
Is this life?
Trying to distract the mind?
From the truth.

As I see it all crumbling before my eyes,
Helpless.
I tried.
Failed.

Now to watch the world.
Do what it does.

Laying helpless.

Finally giving up.
This fight after so long.


The picture I took today on a photography trip. An image I like, my phone doesn’t give the beauty justice. Saving up for a camera and intend to try and take it better. Standing on high, it was peaceful, but for a moment.

Just tired, empty. Don’t even know why. I’m not empty when distracted, but even then, is that living? Having to constantly distract yourself? Kind of like going the rest of your life without sleep. Eventually, you will fail. You will fall. You will lose the fight.

At least photography gives me a brief respite. But I truly just can’t.

Trying to Feel Alive, Dying.

Unravelling,
Soul crushing,
Unfeeling with emptiness
Feeling with darkness,
Crushing blow,
A world so faded.
The mind’s eye,
It’s torture.

It’s place,
It’s being,

Trying,
To find a way.

The mind in it’s ever-dark circle.
The flashes,
Life, meaning and the darkness.
A face in the veil,
The shroud of darkness.

The mind’s memory,
It keeps,
Enshrined,
Every mistake, pain and torture.
Lurking behind the cloud.
Just waiting,
Trying,
Piercing.

Blasting music loud,
Into my head,
Trying to drown out,
The thoughts raging, hurting, killing from the inside.

And on into the quiet,
The quiet times,
With the mind, screaming so loud.

Trying to summon rage,
Infinite rage,
To drown out all thoughts,
Before, then I tire out.
Collapsing on the floor.

Mind full of sorrow,
A life empty,
Dying inside,
With each passing day.
Passing. Time.

Wanting, an escape,
But only finding hell,
The confines I find myself.
A destructive sense,
Of emptiness, whole.

Only wanting,
To try,
To be.

Introspective into pain.
Emptiness, whole.

As I try,
The world alight,
Fires swallowing.
Despite, all I’ve tried.

Having to go on,
But quitting inside,
With the moments, as they pass.

The mind ripping itself apart.

The world.
So hard, cold.
As I lie awake.
My mind,
Filling my eyes with tears,
Looking inside,
Feeling,
Dying.
Wanting it to stop.
All of the pain.

Trying and failing.

Empty and hurt in this world so cold,
Constant reminders, pain so great.
Pain with being.
Trying and hurting.

The dying light,
Dying life.

Sick to my stomach,
Hurting all over,
It all reminding. Piercing my soul.
Having tried.
Trying.
Hurting.
Feeling.

The sad song, of life.

Trying.
But broken inside.
The sad songs we hear, live, and feel.

Head fallig below the dark-water-line.
Wanting, hoping for it to stop.
Only wanting to live, and try.
To strive, but tired.

And I stop. Wait. Exist. And think.

Lost in a sea of memories,
Thinking on and on,
Over and over,
And it never stops.

Everytime, every scar, every memory.
Building to a sad whole.
The only answer to forget.
But that. I cannot.
I cannot.

Left existing.

Writing my only escape,
Embracing the pain.
Waiting and hoping,
But. Too tired to hope.

So I exist.

Trying, as I tire out.

Everything fading.

So I exist.

The many times,
Lying awake,
Thinking, hurting.
I remember them all.
Scars etched into my mind.

Breaking me down.
Piece by piece,
They all shatter.
They all shatter.
I shatter.

But I must stop somewhere.

So I exist.


Feeling tortured, always in the mind.

Living in my mind, the thing that comes closest to describing it is the punishment of Prometheus, chained to a rock, to have a giant bird peck and eat his liver, only for it to recover overnight and to happen all over again the next day.

Everything, the mind, thinking, can’t be bothered to do anything, just existing is too much effort.

It’s the mind more than anything, swirling thoughts, no peace, just reliving, unable to ignore or get away from. Just remembering. Hurting. Wanting it to stop. Wanting my mind to stop.

My mind, a prison.
Always,
Not understanding.
Painful.
Horrible.

Autism sucks.
It’s a prison you can never escape from.
Trying, in vain as life passes.

Trying, a world throwing all it has.
It gets too hard.

My life, can be summed up.
By; always trying, always failing.

Everything, misunderstanding, pain, hurt.

With my studies I had a goal, always trying so hard, but always failing. Haven’t had a grade I’ve been pleased with in my whole schooling life.
Moving country even, it was a trial, is a trial, taking a more difficult road. But I tried. I tried.

Not even knowing anymore really.

Everything people say,
Hurting,
Everything I do,
Hurting.
But I tried. All I could do.
And the world reminds, it means nothing.

Looking back on life, memories of all, and it just hurts.

Every moment, memory, shining like a dark star.
Many, leading up to Uni and difficult times to even attend, times during, many, and many times in childhood. And a memory flashes before me. Sitting under my diningroom table, as a kid, must’ve been like 6, hurting, and biting so hard down on my hand till drawing blood. Just to feel. Funny, this, this dying life.

Just want to write, write and write. All the incoherent thoughts. A few hours and I’m still not done. But have to end somewhere.

I’ve gotten so far, and yet, still, nothing.

I really, really, really don’t want to stop writing. It’s the only thing I can right now. But no.

Hurt From The Kindness

Hurt from the kindness,
Memories from a time,
A time long passed,
So far along now.

The scars always so raw,
For what has been.
And what is to be;
With the causes and ingrediebts for pain,
Beating,
Being true, kind,
Causing pain.

As the mind spirals,
With the body calm,
Always stuck pondering.

Kindness to cause pain.
One so used to,
Expected, foretold and found to be true.

True to the pain,
The pain of being,
Living and seeing.
The pain from seeing.
It play out before it does.
A hurt from kindness.

Only to say,
I knew it would come.
And I go on.
Always knowing.
Coming to the point,
Is it the pain?
Or the knowing that causes the most pain?

Hurting from kindness.
When I give,
Most others,
Even those kindest souls,
Stop.
I carry on.
And seal my pain, my fate.

And as this song, this story,
Plays on.
I go on.
Having given up,
At some level,
I cannot even see.

Never thought,
Kindness could bring such pain.
Such pain.


Spent a lot of time thinking, good day, spent many hours working on photography.

But been thinking about kindness, how it always finds harm, and an image, I’ll attach it below. Saw it weeks ago, but my pondering a of kindness brought it back. The pain. A world of memories from the few seconds of thought.

Especially a friend I’ve been helping out a long time, not lonng ago, only to find, they were using me, and after months and hyping that we could meet, they didn’t bother. Used. Again. But not even surprised.

To be able to tell the future, a ‘gift’ that only causes pain, I know because times like these, I can tell it before it is, and the pain comes,
And I’m not surprised at all.
Getting used to it.
So used to the pain.

Not a positive poem, but I’m not feeling sad, just knowing, thinking. Introspective.