westid

the most frivolous and unquestioned rubric that rumours and opportunists cast in aspersions at me is my proximity to death

some of them have actually told me to go and kill myself, and out of some misplaced respect i held for them i went and tried to do just that. for a little while, knowing that people were able to use me and project / offset a lifetime of guilt and uncomfortable conversation topics round the coffee table – that kept me going in some way

i was grateful that, albeit in some kind of sick status of denial, just by existing adjacent to … i was capable of holding three generations of some disgusting and harrowing acts of utter shame – that their own flesh and blood didn’t feel too proud about, and it wasn’t exactly fun for me to learn all about either – i was their linchpin. attacking an absent and unabashed westid for having the nerve to go on, ironically given their role in everything, “like nothing happened”

i’ve spent most of the last ten years leapt over and fallen headfirst into the abyss, learning more than anything that not a lot of people even make it this far. but in growth as a person i understand the choices i have made somehow meant i was immune to the evil that’s eaten everyone who sat around me alive. if you think that time’s just ticking down to the big news round the valley that i’ve finally withered away just the same… then you carry on thinking like that

here and now, in a level of acceptance accomplished by the deductive reasoning of my situation; i stand alone the only one who was left. who else could you blame? there would be a lot more dead people if anyone discovered just how easily they were lied to. they wouldn’t be so mad about me anymore, that’s for sure. i’m background noise at best, when it comes to the kind of humdingers the people i clearly gave too much credit, overestimated their ability to discover the truth scorching white hot like no other, are still falling for

but the ones i root for more than all are the 1 hitters. any one of these people could have turned around and just had me, mind body and soul, i would have give myself

maybe your collection of bad men dissolving your prospects and your ambition, no self control, getting a bit desperate because their little bad man isn’t getting any tonight; getting a bit controlling because since we upgraded from shoving it up the nose to smoking it in a pipe … well all of the kitchen and the front room doors are now bound together with electrical tape. but at least they aren’t bothering with heroin right? because that’s what causes all the real damage

just look at me, the posterchild in this town when someone wants to dress up a blow up doll not even realisin that they are the bad example here. i sleepwalked into horrible people – just ask yourself how in control those people are of their lives lately – twice, in ten years

tomorrow i am going to get yet another voluntary substance test. if you had a crack at your tried olde local _banter_ about me to anyone that knows … they will not take long to work out who the dick head really is

there’s only so many times i could wake up in hospital take the line out of my hand and try to carry on where i left off. if i’m really supposed to die, trust me it’s obviously not meant to happen yet – why the fuck should it just because a bunch of dick heads who can’t get by in another way want to make themselves feel good by saying a load of things about me that they know aren’t true – i can see them muttering to one another while they own every situation where i have to go out again into their world

i miss being shallow, where i could see the 1 hitters the way i wanted to see them; the ones who got angry when all of a sudden i was in love with someone who was all the things that they wanted people to think they could be. we argued a lot because we fancied each other but there was always that understanding which kept banging our heads back together

some of the meanest baddest men that i will ever know, i see them trying to break away just the same from this image created by the people around them, dictating what they were made out to be. in all observable cases; a strong woman not afraid to own herself and understand that she is in control, and make it up to you if you want to find out and give her what she feels is important

the curse of knowing what you want is in the state of mind that maybe i aspire to things that might not be so easy to find. in the past i enabled people who would have been that, except for one weakness – trust me i can adapt to whatever vice that is and indulge in kind – they were a disappointment to all of us when they must have forgotten what strength lay behind

i never knocked anyone about. even if no one says anything at the time, if you go round saying that you have no idea just how much of your audience feels sorry for your life that someone could have mugged the fuck out of your trust and misplaced loyalty… how ironic is this? by hearing you spin spurious yarns about how foolish i’m meant to be with mine. when i get told about it, evidently by the exact same people, they feel awkward for you and apparently find relief in apologising because you talking shit about me is what made them realise how fucking pathetic it all sounded to begin with … and notice how i’ve never stopped moving forward for all this time

i broke the algorithm – primarily by deleting my entire social media presence and not coming back for the better half of those ten years – now i’ve tried coming back to it, the site has no idea what sort of things i want to read about, which people i should ask to be my friend. they wouldn’t even let me use my own name … obviously because my name is so bang on that the system itself recoils in the same kind of disbelief. like someone tried to tell it that i knock women about and it had to stop for a moment and try to find out if they were thinking of the right person

i used to think that i weren’t intelligent enough to tell lies because only clever people could keep track of all the fictional things and you should see it face to face, it’s like they believe what they’re saying. but in the face of my kind of honesty, all their shit malfunctions and they can’t stand it. realising the true wisdom with which i have operated all my life … uncountable. insurmountable! i know that time and again on a daily basis, even now – when everyone i meet makes a point to mention they’ve hearrrrd about me … the entire institution of lies just gets nowhere because when all is said and done, you can’t cheat an honest man

people have tried to put things they’ve stolen on me, but i’m not that sort of person. i couldn’t live with myself. even though people do say that, i actually took the time to find out and even though it was only at the planning phase, maybe because i’m autistic, i actually couldn’t live with myself. when i regained consciousness three days later in the resuscitation unit at royal blackburn hospital, i was glad i never did anything because for all i know that was what saved my life. but what kind of life is living a lie? i would rather be loved and trusted as the man i am, than feared as the kind of person – basically beholden to and desperate for another pipe, so badly they can’t account for anything but the imminent gratification – who, for instance, might feel the need to try and life someone off by appearing before a confused and grieving family and telling the coroner they have a fucking clue what it would be like if i decided to fight back. you don’t fucking know

i suppose it was all very entertaining for a lot of people. i’m not a violent person, but it doesn’t really matter because i don’t put people in a corner or live in the bubble that violent people put themselves in by being what they are. one day they – and they know who they are – will realise that none of the relationships that they thought were real simply because they kept those people around, are based on anything but someone just trying to appease a violent man. it’s the same discipline why i never knock women about either, because imagine that bubble when it pops. no thanks. who wants to be alone when that big one finally pops?

if you know who i am, do me a favour and let me know you’re out there. no one can really expect me to be in a reachy out sort of mood. not because you’re a hard bastard and you want me to fuck off quickly because you’re scared about me coming back and rightly so. but instead maybe you have grown as a person and you’re better than all that

i have survived everything. and you probably know about much more shit than i have even noticed. now it’s time to flush it all down because i’ve moved on. you’re either with me or against me right? fuckin do one