We live our lives like we’re ready to die

A rare double post today, well I wanted to write this yesterday but things got in the way and to be completely honest I couldn’t be fucked, not only was I lethargic but the subject matter needed a bit more time to stew in this trashcan I call a brain.

It hits so hard, I stu-stu-stutter my speech

Almost a year ago my grandfather passed away, I’m still hit by the gut wrenching, heart ripping out of chest pain it left me with, it was a day we all knew was coming but it still never prepares you for that final moment.

I’ll hit the bottom just to feel the ground

Sometimes as a depressive  I want to feel alive, something to come along shake me to my fucking core and drag me back to the land of the living shambling along from a George Romero zombie to a sprinting flat out Danny Boyle zombie. This rarely happens though.

How nice — to feel nothing, and still get full credit for being alive

Once upon a time…….

For several years I’ve been medically battling depression but for much longer it was just me and my brain in a duel, lunging and riposting before my brain pulled out a gun and held me ransom for long periods of time. Have plans? My brain would idle up lift his shirt and flash his piece like something out of a Spike Lee joint.

I’d take a leap of faith but I’d lose my nerve

This is going to be a somewhat ranty woe be me type post but please bear with me. I want to write about life and achievements OR how I’m thirty and  done fuck all, the former is a nicer blog post but the latter does have a certain zing to it. Like most good stories let’s start with the beginning.

Nothing is static

I’ve been blogging on other platforms and sites for a long time, coming and going, to and froing. Writing about games on one page, movies on another and news on another. I usually stick around for a brief period of time, posting as much and as often as possible then burn out/lethargy/ideas have me stuck in a rut and I give up and move onto the next thing.