A day dedicated to something like the prevention of suicide makes me feel incredibly morose. To think that there are innumerable people around the globe contemplating suicide makes me feel sick to my stomach and it’s happening as I type these little symbols that make up the language we use to communicate. But clearly, somewhere along the line, we’ve failed. Read More
Over the past two weeks, I've been attending a creative writing course with Bauer Media's Academy programme. It's been eye-opening, insightful, emotional and educational, and I've taken away some essential tips with regards to honing my writing and venturing into the world of freelance journalism. We've been asked to complete various tasks throughout the course, and one of them was to write a letter to our future selves. It had to include our hopes, dreams, fears and accomplishments, yet I somehow managed to dive into the rabbit hole and landed at the core of my soul. So, in the spirit of radical honesty and me sharing everything that pops into my head, I thought it only fitting to post the letter here. Enjoy!
I'm sat here with tears drying on my cheeks, still hot on my skin, after hearing of the passing of Linkin Park frontman, Chester Bennington. It's being reported that he died by suicide, after being found hanged in America at the age of just 41. He leaves behind six children and his wife, and I can only imagine the heartache they must be feeling right now.
It started out with a phonebox, stoic and red. A homeless man lay beside, with a floor for a bed.
Communication is lost in the ones we walk past, just like the phone box, every end has a start.
Everyone has this projection, this mask, this barrier that protects them from the world outside of their comfort zone. Beyond the reach or scope of others whose walls are a lot thinner, the people who peek over the parapet and extend an outstretched hand into the void often do so at great strain. Read More
The observatory loomed high above me, at the crest of the hill in the distance. I could feel the surge of negativity sucking away at the hope in my breath, and with each fresh glance towards the tangible, milky hue of the dome, the panic and fear rose to greet me. The cast iron bars that surrounded the park gave me brief periods of intermittent relief by obscuring my view every few steps but I was kicking myself for suggesting going to this place. Yet, how could I have known that in this moment, walking past a park I’d walked past a thousand times before, a park where I’d shared wonderful memories with friends and family, a park that was part of my upbringing; how could I know that my life was about to change forever? And I really hate clichés but I can’t explain it any other way. One conversation, no, one name, dragged me into my past with a fervour and penchant for rack and ruin. Read More
What is left for me to say, that I haven’t uttered every other Father’s Day?
You didn’t want presents or cards or gifts, you just wanted to spend time with your big kid.
25 years you’ve been there for me, through the good times, the sad times and those in between.
Remember when you choke slammed me onto the chair? And I got straight back up and said: “Again again!”.
A better role model is impossible to find, although The Rock and Stone Cold are not far behind.
I’ve never wanted for nothing but always asked for more, and not once have you threatened to show me the door.
You’ve driven thousands of miles to pick me up over the years, you’ve cradled me close when I’ve been racked with tears.
You give me safety, security and a roof over my head, you even sacrificed the big bedroom so I could have a double bed.
You’ve carried on sharing Nan’s loving ways, proving that any time is cuddle time, each and every day.
You’ve given everything you have to give me the best, so today at least, take a well-deserved rest.
Put your feet up, relax, crack open the beers, I’ll cook the dinner and we can celebrate with cheers.
As your son, it’s my privilege to wish you today, the best, most special Happy Father’s Day.
I love you Dad ❤
Today is the 3rd birthday of my blog and the first birthday of my YouTube channel! I can’t quite believe that I’ve hit these milestones respectively, so I thought it appropriate to mark the occasion with a blog post and a YouTube video! Furthermore, I’ve decided that today is the day (THE DAY) I decide yet again to get fit. This is the third time this year that I’ve told myself that I’m going to start again when it comes to fitness, exercising and losing weight. I shot a Go Pro video of me working out earlier and suffice to say, it was enough motivation to know that I want to change how I look and feel. Not only for how I see myself but because my fitness levels are shocking. So here we go again, hitting the reset button for the last time this year (fingers crossed)!
We all want it, right? But sometimes, it’s just so bloodie hard to be happy.
When you have a mental illness, so much of your time is devoted to this idea of finding happiness again. Because to be quite frank, when you’re mentally ill, life isn’t exactly like a bed of roses. I know I’ve struggled a lot when it comes to this concept of happiness and what defines that exuberant, joyful emotion that crackles across your skin like a heatwave.
You know the feeling when everything clicks into place? Whether it’s waking up to your favourite weather, that song you’ve been enjoying on the radio, a full English and a cuppa waiting in the kitchen downstairs (or if you’re a lazy git like me, when it’s brought up to bed for you!), seeing your friends, watching that film in the cinema for the third time because it’s just SO GOOD; we all want to experience this feeling as often as possible. And in my quest for happiness, I’ve tried and tested a multitude of tools along the way. Read More
I set a reminder on my phone at 11 o’clock on Friday the 17th of March to write a blog post the following morning as I was probably knackered (even though I imagine I went on to play PS4 all night). Well here we are, 39 days later and I’m finally getting round to writing it. After ignoring numerous buzz notifications from my ‘Reminders’ app nudging me every day to write the damn thing, it’s happening. I’ve been putting it off because I’m nervous about the subject matter. Actually, tell a lie, I’m nervous about the reaction to the subject matter. Anyway, let’s get on with it, shall we? Read More