Trust is Earned, but I am So Poor.

So I was supposed to go on a date yesterday.

This was to be my first ever ‘first date’. I am 26.

I’d built up the courage to finally meet someone I didn’t know. I was so proud of myself that even though I was nervous (I turned up to lectures an hour early and missed stops on the bus which I NEVER do), I had every intention of showing up and making an effort. I even shaved my legs for the first time in like three weeks.

And then the day of, he cancelled.

He said he woke up feeling sick (oh and “sorry, but it’s raining anyway so I guess I don’t feel so bad now”).

I want to believe him. I want to believe he was genuinely ill but I just can’t. I trust literally zero people on this planet. I have been surrounded by abusers, manipulators, narcissists and users my whole life and at this point I have no reason to believe that there is anyone good left.

How am I supposed to have any kind of relationship with anyone when I believe that nobody is trustworthy? I know it’s not the ‘right’ thing to think but as much as I may be aware of that, I can’t just choose to believe something else.

At every turn, people are disappointing. I can’t trust that people will be nice, that they won’t lie, or cheat. I can’t trust that people are going to treat me right, or treat anyone else right. I can’t trust people to be who they say they are, or to do what they say they will.

I so badly need to meet someone I trust but I really don’t believe it’s going to happen, because so far, I haven’t.



Waiting for Someone Who Cares Enough to Stay Up.

I have friends. But I’m not sure I can count on them. One, I left because I wasn’t allowed to disagree with her. My opinion, should it differ, was always wrong. And if I was upset, it was my fault for feeling that way, and I should stop. Another, I left because she told me I wasn’t trying hard enough, and that she was getting tired of the fact that I wasn’t doing well. She didn’t want to be there for me any more so I granted her wish.

I have friends that say they can be there whenever I need them. But when it comes to it, and I ask them for help, it becomes a time for them to tell me all about their own lives. I don’t mind lending an ear, but it becomes difficult when I am the one in crisis. I have friends who tell me to be careful about my behaviour, or I’ll lose them. I have friends who tell me that my low moods and paranoia are making them feel inadequate. I have friends who know I need their support, but don’t want to make plans, because it’s a chore. I have friends who have asked me how I am and regretted it. I have friends who no longer ask.

If I am finding myself falling into a hole at 2am, I sometimes wonder if there is anyone I can call. But I don’t wonder any more. People never seem to be as worried as I am about whats going on. I get it, they can’t read minds, but it’s not exactly like I can articulate what’s happening at the best of times, let alone when I’m not in a good place. I have had people ask me mid chat if I’m ok, because they want to go to bed. If I was in their position, I would stay up, no matter what my plans were the next day. I would do that to make sure that my friend is alright. I wouldn’t ask “are you sure you’re ok?” because I know how I would play it in that situation. Of course I would say “yes I’m fine!” and be adamant about it. Because your bedtime is more important than my mental health. Because god forbid I make you a bit tired tomorrow. Even at the risk of my own life.

I am a nihilist.


If most people feel the way I do, which wouldn’t surprise me, I don’t get it. I don’t understand how people can just walk around, putting on the face that says “yes! look! I am a human! this is me doing my job!, This is me doing my hobbies! I am alive!”

So many people are suffering. I don’t understand how people aren’t just grabbing and shaking one another saying “Somebody! Please tell me it gets better! Please tell me this existence we just get dropped into unwillingly isn’t as arbitrary as I think it is. Because it’s pointless. And there are no guarantees. You can be smart and hardworking, and still not have the career you want. You can be attractive and interesting and still not end up with someone that makes you happy. You can eat right and exercise and still have a heart attack at 40. I can’t go on existing under the belief that anything I do matters, because it doesn’t. I hate time, I hate the world, I hate things, I hate myself and my body, I hate people. And I hate having to zoom in and focus on my tiny, arbitrary life in order to feel like I have a point. I hate it all and I can’t change anything.”

I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to live, either.


A letter I will never send.

I still miss you. Every Day.
I wish I could say something that could change everything, or that could suspend us in the short time we had. I wish, but there are no words or actions that could bring us back together.
I wonder how often your thoughts drift to me. I wonder if I am in your head as much as you are in mine. I can only hope. I think that perhaps since you have something to fill your time and the space in your mind, that I do not appear to you as much as I would like.
I have been spoiled by you. I can’t find the energy to pretend that anyone else interests me the way you did. I can’t fake a connection like we had, and I can’t imagine ever having one like it with anyone else. You made me feel like I was worth so much. It didn’t seem so absurd that someone could love me the way I thought you did. It felt like I could achieve everything I’d ever aimed for, with you there. I know that love is something that can come to people more than once, but I don’t believe that it will ever be as strong, or as important as it was with you.
Even though the other side of the bed was always empty, it feels even more so now. I keep looking at the spaces that I thought would be yours, hoping that one day you will fill them. Hoping that I will see your car outside my house and that you would tell me you changed your mind.
I don’t know what to do with myself any more. I have no direction or purpose. I cannot exist for myself alone. I only feel right when I feel needed. Who wants to keep someone they don’t need? I lost you because you didn’t need me. I thought I was fulfilling something for you. But it was something you already had, you just thought it might have been better coming from me. I suppose I gave you no reason to keep me. Nothing to make me more special than anyone else. But that’s always me; middle of the road. Average in every possible way.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been this sad before. I can’t stop being sad. Sad for myself, so alone and unable to bring myself back to where I was. I’m stuck, and I have nowhere to reach for. If I had a destination I would aim for it, but why move, when there’s nowhere to go?
I spend every day acting the part, being who everyone expects me to be. Until I get home and I can relax. People don’t want to deal with anyone who’s sad. Every day, I wake up, put on the mask that say’s “I am ok. I am always ok.” Then I get home and I can’t even hold myself up.
And I am sad for you, and worried. Worried that you will never get out and that you will be an old man, filled with regret, sorry that you never took that chance.
I know what I should be doing. I should stop thinking of you as the perfect match, and try to think of the negatives. I’ve tried. The problem with that is, there is enough good to even out the bad, and then some. The things that may bother me mean nothing when compared to the things that make you the improbable human that you are. I know you will never come back, and I know there is a good chance I will never see you again. It breaks my heart every time I have to remind myself, but I can’t fool myself. You’re gone,
and that’s it. That’s all.

Be good. I love you.

Just the Worst.

Usually, when you book in to see a counsellor, you expect some form of help. Or at least someone who will listen, because, you know, it’s their job. But apparently that is a bit too much to ask these days.

Firstly, The counsellor was late. I was left in an empty waiting room ten minutes after the session was due to start, which isn’t that long, but when they don’t have a receptionist, its not particularly reassuring. Remember this is a place people go for counselling.

When I eventually walk into the room, I make some sort of joke about being so high up in a building (or something just as inconsequential), and sit down. She asked me what brought me there, and of course I hesitated. She did not take this as an opportunity to ask a more specific question, or to say something like “take your time”, but instead just stared at me awkwardly. Yeah, because that’s what people who are distressed need; to feel uncomfortable.

After mentioning a few things that had been bothering me, she did not ask which I would like to start with, or which was bothering me the most, but instead dismissed everything I had said and asked “ok, so has anything happened in the past four weeks that you want to talk about?” … Um. Maybe one of the things I mentioned? Perhaps?

I tried to steer her in a more productive direction by mentioning my current struggle with personal relationships and how I’ve been pushing everyone away and avoiding interaction, because my brain is telling me it’s better that way since they don’t like me anyway (blah blah blah). She decided that the examples I gave her of this ‘evidence’ that people don’t like me totally justified my distance from them and that I should find some new friends. When I mentioned that it’s all of my friends, so the problem is probably with me, she just said “no I don’t think so”. Again, way to be supportive. Ten fucking gold stars for you.

I asked her about what her speciality was, in an effort to gauge her skill level (which was becoming clear to me anyway but I figured I’d give her the benefit of the doubt in case she had a really specific speciality that did not apply to me). She responded with a vague answer about people with work problems or mental health issues. Awesome, faith restored…

I then mentioned that I was concerned about my mental health. She said “oh! really?” …NO HAHA JK JUST SAID IT FOR FUN LOL dumb bitch. And then. She said. “You don’t look like a mentally ill” … um. what. So I had to say it; “well what does a mentally ill person look like exactly?” I started laughing because honestly, it was ridiculous. She starts telling me that depressed people (because apparently depression is the only mental illness in existence) would look sad all the time, probably crying. Oh ok so I should just walk around in my day to day life in tears. Because that’s totally appropriate. For fucks sake.

Perhaps having noticed that I was getting irritated, she offered to give me a questionnaire to get some indication of whether I might be depressed (again, apparently the only mental illness in existence), so I say ok. The asks me which one I would like to do, and gives me no other details to help me make the choice. I am becoming increasingly irritated at this point. It’s quite clear I came here for no reason. So I fill out the questionnaire, and she marks it. It came up with a high score, indicating likelihood of depression. She asked me if I was surprised, I said no. She then put the questionnaire down and said “I don’t think you have depression”. Yeah, cool neither do I but I know something’s fucked up, wanna help? No?

I then tried to talk about the massive great fuck off wall that I have built around myself and has existed my whole life. I talk about how it stops me from saying pretty much anything that crosses my mind. Basically I over-filter. She says “oh ok, maybe try just opening up a bit more” HOLY SHIT CALL THE NEWS SHE’S A FUCKING GENIUS. I take a deep breath, tell her it’s not that simple for me (or for anyone else, but I didn’t want to make her feel any more incompetent than she probably already makes herself feel). She then says “well I definitely don’t think you’re depressed, because depressed people wouldn’t be able to guard themselves like that. They wouldn’t be thinking about it, they would just be thinking that they are sad”. Well if depressed people have a range of thought that small, then you’ve taught me something today, lady.

She then starts telling me how I need to be more assertive- and explains that I should be more firm and speak up for myself, but still be respectful about it. (what? where did this come from?) At this point there is about ten minutes left so I let her ramble, take the leaflet she gives me, and smile and nod because what is the fucking point. I then leave the office of what I believe to be possibly the worst counsellor on the planet, and never return.



Your words are important

Your words

But it’s hard for you. My words are taking up time that you could be using.

It’s hard for you to sit still

and stay quiet

because you can feel 


and you just want to say

what about me?

Pushing me, back you say you?

No! me! How do you think I feel?

So I stop.

And I listen.

Because that’s what I’ve always done I stop.

And it happens again so I stop.

And it happens again ’til eventually




And you don’t even know why you don’t know me at all.

When you show your support by hearing my feelings and thinking they’re yours.


Hallelujah, I’ve been saved by no one again.

You may have noticed by now that I am not a very grown up grown-up. I still don’t know how to remove water spots from glass, or really which type of cleaner I should be using for any given surface. I don’t have a clue how to invest in anything (do you do this online? someone tell me please). Sometimes I have toast for dinner. Oh, and I can’t drive.

My mother just visited for the week, and it was great, in that I could just be a kid again. I got driven around, had dinner bought or cooked for me, she de-boned a chicken because she knew I wouldn’t want to, she even made me some pyjamas. Honestly, mums are great. But I’ve never been particularly open with mine. We get on well, and we laugh about some pretty stupid shite, but I’ve always felt like we’ve never really known each other.

Our conversations are limited to what we are doing in our work lives at that point in time, where the cat is and what she’s doing, or what we’re going to have for dinner. There aren’t really any opportunities for bigger talk. Anything that treads vaguely into that territory is swiftly pulled back by the neck into safer realms. I don’t particularly have a problem with this, being that she is my mother, but it’d be nice if I had anyone else who was willing to omit the small talk.

I get that everyone else is also a mess and sometimes has toast for dinner, but that doesn’t help me feel any less lost in life. I still go home to an empty life house, where as soon as I walk in, I’m already frozen, staring wistfully into the middle distance thinking “well what the fuck do I do now?” I have no one to go home to at the end of the day, and why would I, when there’s nobody willing to come home to me?

Right now, all of my friends are overseas, working when I am not, or on my list of “not currently talking to…” (mostly the latter). This makes life a little hard, when all you really want is some meaningful human interaction. I have this stupid thought in my head telling me that pushing people away is the right thing to do, because they’ll only leave anyway. I’m doing us both a favour and saving time. And even though I know it’s a dumb thought, I agree with it anyway. Literally no one is going to be with you your whole life, so why try? Why be upset that you don’t get tagged in memes because nothing reminds people of you, when you can just choose not to have friends?

It seems the thing I need to do, is to stop being so guarded and closed off from literally everyone. It’s not really protecting yourself when it’s causing the harm, right? Chances are I’m not going to listen to myself, I’ll probably just continue to think of excuses to drive myself further towards hermit-hood. I’ve lost friends, and gained nothing, really.

Now I just have a wishbone sitting on my windowsill and no one to pull it with.

People who are Dicks; Specific individuals and Groups.

This one may be a little too specific to my life, but hey, why else am I writing this?

To the person who didn’t want to stop for that red light, but was too much of a pussy to run it; I know you are aware that you ended up essentially parking in the middle of the pedestrian crossing that I was about to use. In my attempt to make eye contact in the hopes that something would trigger in your brain, and you would say something along the lines of “oops, sorry”, I was met with your vacant stare that was deliberately directed through me. Clearly had I attempted to find a brain in there, I would have been at a loss. Get some fucking awareness of your surroundings. You’re a Dick.

To the self righteous asshole who wrote that fucking song about millennials; You have made a gross generalisation about an entire generation. What the fuck. The pointless lines about the stereotypical appearance of millennials- The “man bun and facial hair” or someone who takes selfies and wears yoga pants- putting any kind of weight on what people look like to be any indicator of their behaviour sounds a lot like discrimination to me. Claiming that “Criticism isn’t easy for their ears” is also pointless in this context, especially since you probably wouldn’t know, considering the entire song reads more like a discriminatory attack. You strike me as the kind of person who would argue that there’s no such thing as a clitoris, purely because you don’t know where it is. Don’t even get me started on the fact that you seem genuinely worried about having a millennial as president… I’m sorry but where the fuck is the next one supposed to come from? Do you propose presidents just get older and older until all of Gen X and prior have died out, at which point we say “guess there won’t be any more presidents now, better that than have a millennial filling the spot”. For fuck’s sake. You’re a Dick.

These next two are old news, but yes, I’m still pissed.

To the little piece of shit who has enough ignorance to say that instead of having periods, women should just “hold their bladder”; Where are your parents? How do I tell them they have failed on a colossal fucking scale? The fact that you refused to even hear about it when someone tried to explain to you what happens? Inexcusable. How about I come over there and stab you in the taint once a month and see if you can help that. Fuck you in particular. You’re a Dick.

Ok, and to the group of absolute fucking monumental cunts who decided it would be a good idea to drag a baby dolphin out of the ocean, just so you could take selfies with it. What kind of inbred, braindead Neanderthals did your parents have to be in order to produce you? I don’t tend to wish death on anyone, but since you are all scum of the fucking earth, I wish it gladly. I’d kill you all myself if I knew any of your names. You are all Dicks.

Well. Fuck this.

OK. so I like to think of myself as a pretty well adjusted, independent woman. But sometimes, as much as it is a pain in my ass, and as much as I like to think I can do literally everything on my own, the sad reality of it is that I can’t. Sooner or later I’m going to have to rely on a person or group of people to get something done.

Now, when I ask for something (once in a fucking blue moon), I have some expectation that the person I am asking is going to take into consideration that; a) it’s probably pretty important to me and b) I’m not a raving fucking lunatic so chances are, it’ll be pretty pissing doable. However. For some un-fucking-fathomable reason, people decide that it’s ok to just go “yeah, yeah. I’ll do that thing” or “sure, I’ll be there” AND THEN NOT DO THE THING. 

Why. WHY in the hell would anyone be such a festering dickwad as to commit to something and then just decide that whatever it is, is much less important than some benign shit that they decide to do instead, which, lets be honest, given the kinds of people who pull this shit, is likely to be sitting down staring at a blank wall, with less than nothing going through what is likely to be a fraction of a brain cell.

If you do this; Fuck You. You’ve made a conscious decision to let someone down, and you deserve for no one to ever say yes to whatever shit you want them to do. Fuck you, Fuck off, Fuck this.