Not an Oracle

It's become my new motto, 'take the plunge.'

I've been saying it every day recently as a reminder to myself that I have to throw myself into the day. I have been far too passive of late, letting things happen to me or waiting in the background. By telling myself to 'take the plunge' I allow myself to become immersed in the day. I dive in to it and deal with what needs to be dealt with as it comes. I'm aware that I spend far too much time worrying about what could be. It's wasted energy. By taking the plunge, I live in the moment and the results can be surprising.

I will be frank.

- There are days when you don't wake up because you haven't slept all night.

- You've lost track of what day/month/year it is and all you can feel is a sense of dread as you try to systematically recall what day it was yesterday.

- You wonder if the thud in your chest is caused by your heart beating or your soul trying to escape.

- You find yourself going through the motions despite not knowing how you got from point A to point B because you were internally scolding yourself for not sleeping last night. This is then proceeded by you being mad at yourself for 'self-scolding' because you know it can't be helped.

- You successfully manage to make it out of the door and you wonder 'now what?' and 'is this it?' The best questions seem to consist of two or three words. Each word resembling an injection of antifreeze, a piano falling on your head, a second lost.

- You try to conclude whether you are 'wasting time' or 'losing time' and what the difference is between the two.

- You realise that these were some of the thoughts plaguing your bed the previous night so you try to distract yourself.

- You read a newspaper but each story takes you from one horror to the next and you scour the pages attempting to find something they call 'good news' but you're suddenly at the obituaries and it all seems crystal clear now.

Summers seemed to stretch on for ever when I was younger. Each day would be filled with a untapped sense of euphoria and the scent of freshly mowed grass. For a few weeks I was offered a chance to experience true freedom. The rigmarole of attending school Monday to Friday was temporarily abolished and the only commitments to adhere to relied solely on eating, sleeping and how many books I could consume over the course of a week. Those were the good aspects. Of course growing up on a council estate proved interesting (for lack of a better word) and the extra free time meant having to be slightly more aware of my surroundings. Some days I had to do my best to avoid the gangs of teenagers that seemed to flock at each end of the block or not make eye contact with the Heroin addict who offered her 'services' by trying to seduce the slightly older boys so she could get her next fix. I'm sure she wasn't aware that the baseball cap and the way her eyes rolled in the back of her head weren't doing her any favours. There was also the summer a registered sex offender moved in and not to mention the number of times I had to skip over the plethora of used syringes and condoms that littered the estate like gifts that had escaped Bad Santa's sack. An insane version of Hopscotch. You don't realise these things aren't normal when you're younger. I spent those sun-tinged days imagining how my future summers would play out. I was well aware that there wouldn't be a reprieve for six weeks once I had gotten a job, yet the concept of adulthood seemed like an illusion.

Sometimes I would be friends with some of the other kids on the estate but mostly I wasn't. There was always that seed of an idea that I 'wasn't like them'. At this point, the idea of being gay in a place like that was not only unheard of, it would probably be beaten out of existence. I guess I was lucky in the sense that I was deeply in denial about that aspect of my lifestyle until I was Seventeen. Needless to say, I enjoyed the summer holidays. It meant I didn't have to be in school and I can only liken that feeling to what I would imagine it would be like for a wrongly convicted criminal to be released from Death Row. Sometimes, the summer nights got a little hard to bear especially when the house was opened up to host an all night party. The loud music and shouting from downstairs would pummel the floorboards and my sister and I spent many late nights sitting at the top of the stairs, trying to make sense of the drunken ruckus below. The worst part was the morning and the heavy stench of sticky alcohol and cigarette smoke that hung in the air. However, there was still a distinct feeling that 'anything could happen'. For some reason those few weeks in summer brought with them a promise of change. Even if it was just temporary.

I would spend afternoons lay on my bedroom floor, feet perched on my bed, watching the clouds roll past my window. I would attempt to see past that blue void and see if there was another world just waiting on the other side. It doesn't sound like much but this was when I was at my happiest. Some days the other kids would let me play with them; I remember collecting ladybugs in recycled yoghurt pots and picking cherries from the trees which have now been long cut down and built upon. Sometimes the kids would play a game called 'Let's run away from...'. I think the point was that they would insert a name at the end of the sentence and then proceed to run away from 'said person'. As soon as one of them piped up, 'let's run away from...' in a sing-song voice and a smile on their face, something in my chest fell into my baron stomach and I didn't need a mirror to know my face had transformed into a translucent shade of pale. Of course, the name was always mine, maybe it was because they knew they could get away from me because I was a little bit bigger and a little bit slower. Maybe it was because they just wanted to get away. I would compensate the experience by going for a walk, pretending I was going somewhere when really I was hoping that the destination would find me. Most often or not I would return home to read for countless hours. Joining the local library had probably saved me from being consumed by that estate. Finally, I was able to escape. It was as easy as turning over a page. I had even taken to writing my own stories upon my grandmother's old typewriter. The summer allowed me to open up the door to experience as many different worlds and characters as possible. The pages melted away and I was suddenly transposed into the stories and I didn't have to think about who or where I was.

This was summer.

Breaking out of the habit is the hardest thing you can do. Leaving the comfort and safety of what you already know is not an easy feat. But this is the only way to truly live; to drink up the new and open your arms to opportunities before they perish on the vine. Grow wise and be cautious but walk on that ledge and immerse yourself in the sights. The bright, bright lights and the biting breeze. The raw freedom that comes with taking a risk.

This is how life should be.

Shatter your preconceptions and never assume anything. Never take anything for granted and love like it will never last. Because it never will. Celebrate the small things and take time to look up at the stars and the sun and the moon because the answers come when we tilt our heads upwards. Connect your feet to the ground and walk wherever you can. Make that connection between your body and the land, like it was always meant to be. Be outside and live outside of yourself. The truth will come to you that way. Stretch away anything that holds you back and learn to let things go.

That is how it needs to be.

It must be because I am a Libra. Indecisive and eternally seeking balance in everything I do. When the truth is, the scales will always tip one way or another. The concept of the perfect balance is merely a mirage. We juggle our daily lives as best as possible and the more organised individuals may even be able to plan and juggle the events of the next few days or weeks. And then life decides to throw you a curve ball. A huge whacking asteroid-sized curve-ball that is coming straight at you full force. You suddenly find that you are now no longer juggling those elements, you're sheltering yourself from being pelted by them.

Those of us that are better equipped may just open up their arms and embrace the collision and deal with damage-control later on. Others may have refined the use of the elegant side-step approach and manage to avoid the majority of the debris. There is a third type, the ones that stay catatonically frozen in fear; desperately hoping that the laws of gravity will suddenly change and the impending damage caused by these falling parts is inevitably spared. The chances of this happening are relatively slim.

You'll notice how I mentioned that the better equipped individuals are the ones who embrace the downfall. They don't mind the cuts and the bruises caused by all the pre-juggled life shrapnel because they know that there will be plasters and splints to help repair the damage later on. Life is messy. It's complicated and downright difficult. It's also surprising, unpredictable and beautiful. Some of us have mastered the technique of keeping things going when that curve-ball is coming at you faster than a chased gazelle. These are the lucky ones, the rare breed. They can even keep a smile going at the same time and these are the true heroes, the life warriors. The ones that I have much to learn from. For now I will have to learn to ride the wave, endure the impending impact and try my hardest to make informed decisions and maybe, just maybe keep a smile on my face.

The brain has a hard time filtering out the bits of information it requires and the bits of information that would be better suited on a waste disposal heap. Scientists have yet to invent a brain button that when switched on can allow us to pay attention to the useful data and avoid the worthless and sometimes harmful information that is directed at us each and every day. This is why I have a hard time with social media.

The bombardment of other people's lives, success's, opinions, comments and rants all culminated in one place is just too much. This is not to say that I have not dipped my toe in social media, I would be a hypocrite to condemn and yet not mention how I have a whole foot submerged in its ever widening pool. It's a Catch 22 situation. I can't deny how effective it can be as a tool. When used correctly it can be harnessed to promote messages of hope or of charity; a place for people to come together and share thoughts on particular subjects and allow for discussion on important and sometimes even unimportant matters. The problem is that with all tools, when not handled the correct way can be used for destruction as opposed to creation. Misinformation can spread like wildfire, things can be interpreted incorrectly to devastating effect, people can openly post their prejudices and ignorance and have it 'liked'. It also becomes a place of competition. How many pictures of a recent holiday can be uploaded or how many status updates about how wonderful their new job is can we tolerate? Or alternatively, those passive aggressive posts about an unnamed person that did something but you don't want to say what because 'they know who they are' or another attention grabbing headline that begs for credibility based solely upon the number of likes and comments it obtains. It can seem somewhat insensitive by saying this but social media breeds shallow behaviour. It's all well and fine keeping friends and family updated with one or two messages or photos about a particular event or something that may have happened; but it becomes too much when it turns into a 5000 word essay on how Heather from HR used your onion relish at work this lunch-time or you feel the need to post 63 pictures of your new car each tagged with the entirety of your friends list just in case one of them missed it. Maybe it's for lack of new cars or onion relish but I can't participate in that forum anymore. Until they can invent a self-censor button that prevents people from oversharing or from passively aggressively trying to communicate a message via cryptic updates I will not dip my proverbial toe in there again.

We're all just human-shaped balls of energy zipping around the planet, some of us destroying stuff, some of us creating stuff. Taking, giving, stealing, losing, consuming, purging. Needless to say, it's all an exchange. Taking or losing, sometimes simultaneously, sometimes over long periods of time. In one hundred years it won't matter anyway and yet it still baffles me at what lengths some people will go to in order to accumulate that little bit of extra energy for themselves; whether it be in the name of money or power, it doesn't matter. It's a loss for another person. It's an exchange, for those that receive, someone has to give, whether voluntary or with no choice at all. Some of us have understood the concept of trading, an equal exchange. I will give you something and you will give me something in return. I scratch your back and you scratch mine, or insert whichever metaphor you prefer to use. There's too much focus on what one can accumulate over time and less focus on what can be done in order to help each other. With this mission statement of 'Accumulate. Gain and Conquer' there is only one future direction.

Implosion.

The shakiness of my hands matches the tremble in my voice.

I am the walking stitched-up skin-sack filled with hollow brittle bones you see walking on the street. The flimsy bamboo shoot melody as they clink and clank with each forced footstep.

Heart as large as the moon. Gulping bowling-ball sized mouthfuls of air except it no longer tastes like air any more. Surgical. It is merely a desperate clinging for survival and my god... why is my heart racing so much? 'You're a man.' He said, 'men don't behave like this, quit complaining, snap out of it and get back in the game.'

I can see my atoms structured only with empty vessels of frenzy and perspiration. Molecules weakened by years of thinking a particular way. There's a heaviness pressing down, pinned by a shadow with a body as strong as ten men. Why is my heart battling my ribcage like a child kicking a ball against the wall? Thud, skid, thud, thud, skid.

And with each breath, the world collapses in on itself and the electricity that surges through my nervous system causes nothing but convulsions and shivers of biblical proportions. I've never felt so hot and so cold at the same time.

Walking like a drunk through the streets lined with litter and decomposing broken hearts.

You stole my voice yet again.

The words will not form. Not today. Maybe tomorrow. Except you stole the concept of hope a long time ago when you first wrapped your wrinkled, bony arms around me that time I could not scrub myself clean. The water ran red.

I thought you were a lesson I had to learn but I now know that you are just a curse I need to bury deep down in those fields of grey. The 3 am whispers must be put to bed and your clinical clawing has to cease.

The battle must be won.

They chew you up and spit you out and you're left to face the rest on your own. So don't let them. It's often difficult to face the daily battles especially when the world is drained of any colour and all you can see is various tones of grey and the drizzle clings to your pale, clammy skin like unwanted kisses. But you have to dig out that old battered rain coat and wear it with pride. You've got to manufacture your own sunlight and you've got to learn how to pulverise that grey sky until it gives you a little colour. Even if it means beating the absolute shit out of it. It has to come at all costs. They might not know about the turmoil and they might not understand that the prospect of putting your shoes on and greeting the day comes with its own challenges. It isn't their fault. It takes a little time to solve the crossword puzzle especially when you are aren't given any clues. Three across: A bitter pill to swallow. Nine down: Another word for dusk. We're not machines, we're not programmed to react and respond in a particular way. If you hand me a pen I can't guarantee that I won't write a love note or an instruction manual on how to fool the world. Maybe I will just settle with a list of apologies or I will tell you about the time I hid under the bed for three hours too afraid to move. The ones who wait are the ones you should keep. Remember their names and remember their birthdays, the small details are often the most important. And if you can wait for someone else then they will remember your birthday too. It's all about the details, the simple things, the way we connect. And if we can apologise to the world and know that it's true, then let it be. Let it swallow you whole and rock you to sleep. Let it consume you even if it is just for one brief, sweet moment. They might not notice that you left the room but they sure will notice when you make your return. Don't forget their names. They won't forget yours.

Let's generalise people for a few minutes shall we? I'd like to think that people can be lumped into three categories. These are, the Brain People, the Guts People and the Heart People. Before you start thinking that I am going off on some sort of zombie dietary preference scheme or listing a collection of new-found fraternity-led cult groups, let me clarify a little more.

There are certain people who behave a specific way in life, the Brain People like to think about decisions and actions before actually acting upon them. They like to analyse and cautiously weigh up the pros and cons. Then you have the Guts People who don't think about their actions or behaviour, they just go with it. And lastly, you have the Heart People who follow their instinct which may require a little bit of help from the top (the brain) and a little help from below (the guts) in order to proceed. Heart People are literally the middle ground people and this suits quite nicely, what with the heart located right between brain and guts, physically speaking.

I'm a Brain Person and I have to be honest, it's pretty damn infuriating. I mean, I love that I have the ability to think things through fully... It's pretty useful and all that, but boy do I hate overanalysing things! It is literally exhausting. It would be nice to experience one day as a Guts Person and proceed with reckless abandon. I could stick my two middle fingers up to the world and say 'fuck it, I'm doing it my way today.' Nevertheless, as a Brain Person, I am inclined to stop and think about that action before pursuing it. Talk about frustrating. I read an article not too long ago about how on average, we have about 50,000 to 70,000 thoughts a day. My first thought (no irony intended) was 'there is without no doubt more traffic in my brain than a measly 70,000 thought count. These researchers need to recruit more Brain People. Heart People seem to have the best of both worlds, with a little access to the brain and a little access to their guts they can move through life with relative ease. They can be happy that they made an informed decision and followed it through with the courage sparingly provided by their lower region. They can be blissfully at ease and without regret that they didn't miss out on an opportunity because they spent too much time thinking about the consequences and didn't have the guts to act upon it. They have the best of both worlds. The brain and guts are just too far apart, they don't have the magic power of the heart in order to be accessible to one another.

I am thinking that I may need to develop some sort of lobotomy procedure that prevents me from going over the 70,000 thought limit and in turn will hopefully cause me to metamorphosis into a Heart Person. However, this is going to require a lot of planning and a lot of thinking. Leave it with me, I'll let my brain chew upon it.

We work in circles. Social circles, work circles, society circles, life circles. We don't seem to work in squares or triangles or heaven forbid, a hexagon or a dodecahedron. 'What goes around, comes around', they say. But does it really? Is it really that simple? The bad people will get their comeuppance and the good people will reap their reward. The great big cosmic hands move and manipulate the pieces in this game of life. Setting us up for the end. Check mate. Justified. I guess I've lived a relatively short life but I might need a little more convincing in this illusive concept known as 'karma'. You only need to switch on a television set or pick up a paper or walk down the street to see for yourself that thing may not necessarily be that simple. Maybe I have the blinders on or maybe life doesn't work in circles, maybe life is a little more three dimensional.

There is much to celebrate and yet there is much to look back upon. These are the last moments before an inevitable change. They drift in and out of focus, bittersweet and poignant. November draws to a close whilst a dark and forlorn December is ushered in with cold winds and short days. The bare walls and cupboards speak only in echoes and I pack my life away in a multitude of boxes, stacked high by the bedside. I think to myself, 'this is the last time I will walk by this very river' or 'this is the last time I will walk through this door'. There's a sombre silence that hangs high in each empty room, like clouds of distant memories, of thoughts and of conversations. This was a home, a place of escape and fortitude. There's a certain sadness in letting go and saying goodbye but this is the process and this is what shapes the next era.

There are days when I am convinced that I am the relic of the person I used to be. The teenager with the naïve heart and wilful tongue. The restless spirit that clung to the electric impulse of adventure, readily absorbing stories with never-ending eagerness, eternally unsatiated and unsatisfied with the idea of finality. I am not that person anymore. I am not quite sure who I am. It was with that very statement that I set about my journey of self discovery. I was unprepared the unfolding of events that transpired during my voyage.

Have you ever not been good enough? Have you ever felt as though everyone around you has a plan and a direction in life? Have you ever drank too much in the hope that it will unlock some unconscious inspiration or at least squeeze out an ounce of self confidence? Have you ever doubted yourself? Have you ever been afraid to relish the chance of taking a risk or declined an opportunity of doing something that might make your heart beat a little bit faster? Have you ever bit your lower lip to prevent yourself from saying something that might cause conflict? Have you ever been terrified that you stand too far out from the crowd and that you can not relate to the 'general public?' Have you ever not been able to articulate what it is that you really want to say? Have you ever tried to sleep your days away? If so, I think you and I could be friends.