The Abyss Of Dismay

Lets just think about this here, a whole abyss of dismay. What seems like an endless voyage through being concerned and distressed, about what tho?. Everything. The thought of waking up to go through it all again, the thought of arriving at work and people looking at you as you enter late, again. No fuck that, its the exact same on the drive in, hating red lights because it’s another convenient time for people to look around and judge. Finishing work and not wanting to go back to the empty, cold and dark house, alone, again. not wanting to put the tv on because it’s full of the shows you once watched with someone you loved. Even falling asleep because I will wake up scared and soaking wet, again, as usual, like I always fucking do. A whole day, then another and another and so on, an endless abyss of being concerned and distressed at the thought of absolutely everything.

Well today I woke up, late for work all the usual crap. lunch in the bin, feel awkward most of the day but manage without anything major going wrong. Got home and instantly self destructed the little I had left from my past life with my ex and son. I don’t even really know why, mixed emotions about everything, can’t stay level. The thought of her not wanting me when I actually need her is all too much to bear, so fuck it and destroy it all beyond recognition as if it never was. I know I will regret it tho, probably sooner rather than later. It’s now only 8:40pm, I have a long night ahead of me to dwell over my concerns while in a state of distress. Another long night.

I want to think of the past, but what tho?. Something pleasing to my brain, a memory that stands out, what one then?. I remember when I was around 4 I was scared to eat lollipops, the coloured ones you can see through, I used to think the lines inside them were sewing needles, fuck I was weird even back then. It must have been around 1985, just before I started primary school. I remember going to the fields near our house and rolling down the hills inside old abandoned tractor tyres. I also remember rolling down my aunties stairs, I would snap several bones if I tried that again  lol. I remember watching Bruce lee movies with my dad, I wanted to kung fu every motha fucka in eyesight, with nunchucks ffs, I was safe to play with tho, honest lol. And light Sabres, my brothers always had light Sabres and when they broke I would get them, so I never had one that could light up. Being the youngest means you get a lot of hand me downs, some good some bad, nothing was ever as good as my older brothers when I was young. I remember my brothers always getting the best skateboards and bikes but because i was still too young it meant I got cheaper stuff, I hated it back then but I totally understand now.

I remember my brothers stood up for me, for anything. Didn’t matter if I was in the wrong, they had my back. My youngest bigger brother is smaller than me, has a bad hip and spent a few years of his childhood in crutches because of it. He is struggling with things now he’s older and it hurts me to watch him, I without doubt owe him as well as my other brothers. This particular brother tho I feel needs my attention more and he doesn’t ask for it, anytime I offer and he refuses. He has kidded on he isn’t in because he doesn’t like me coming into where he stays because it’s small, I don’t care about the size of his house or anything like that, I just want to hang around with him again and keep the bad influences away from him, go driving with him like we used to, I miss that. I must help him before I go, it is one of the few criteria that must be filled before I can be too wreckless with my own life. He is a diamond in the rough, and there are certain things I owe him for. He punished the bad for me, he punished the one who gave me my secret. The small ginger boy who arose to be a king in my eyes, I saw the guilty after he was finished with him and I never ever seen that bad person again. I owe him for that, my brother who people tried to mock for everything from ginger hair to being in crutches, oh how they soon learned to fear the righteous king, my little big brother. I think I know where to start rebuilding him, I hope the day comes when the king returns. I hope the day is soon.

I don’t know why I write things other than it makes me live a moment out for longer, if I think about a memory it is a passing thought, never very long even if I try to make the thought last for ages. Writing forces me to have the thought for longer, It allows me to really swim in my memories, to look at them and cherish them. Memories are your whole life that’s been and everything still to come, they should be cherished and loved, not just glanced at for 20 seconds. They should be held for hours and grudgingly put by until they are brung back out, polished and shiney like new.

Well the world calls and it won’t wait. Love from Scotland

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