For as long as I can remember… I haven’t known shit about politics. Like most Britons my age, we are under the illusion that our parents sink into our minds at a young age, “they all talk the same shit”, “i don’t care, it means nothing to me”… those kinda things.

Until I realised I took a fond interest in conspiracy, then… I realised you can do fuck all about it. If you don’t get involved in politics. After returning home from university, being a Green Party voter, I confronted my family about their politics. My dear friend Sam who’s family are so warm and caring, always have political debate. They have a liberal, a labour, BNP and a UKIPPER.. all sitting around the dinner table. I used propaganda to express my Green thoughts amongst the family, and turned them all into Green voters, even the father became a candidate at the latest elections.

May came, my birthday and the national polling day in the same month. What could go wrong?

Well. Everything went wrong. The Tories got 24% of the countries population to vote for them, and thus, won overall majority. A vast majority of the population again, didn’t vote. We don’t live in a democracy. Noam Chomsky calls it a Dictated Democracy which in my eyes, sounds about right. My birthday went tits up too. I confronted my family, I got it out of them. Secret Tory voters. Yet – the daily news comes on and they moan about this and that, but I now have the excuse of saying, “you can’t moan… you voted for this to happen” – wether it’s austerity cuts or war. You voted for it!

This revelation in my life – along with recent arguments with friends, and even the taxi driver dropping me off home “ohhhh you must be rich, look at this house!”… so I gave him £5 instead of £4 just for his cheeky remark. But it made me think hard about my life. I know i’m this spoilt little cunt from a family who.. well. Ignore my depression, brush it off as “you’re over-reacting”, a family who “support me” by giving me money to live on. Which, because of my background and years of experience, like always, I resorted to drugs and alcohol. I found no love in myself, my only way of thinking is about ME ME ME. Something I have tried strongly for years to never be like. It summed it up for me. Maybe I’m a Tory in-disguise, after all, most Young Greens are middle-class kids wanting to be different. But I believe in socialist policies…. makes no sense.

I know I don’t have the support I should have from my family. No warming family moments, the only support is money, which I blew away. And now i’m here – a realisation of my privileged background, my selfishness and arrogance. The drugs and booze are all mine! All mine I tell you! Just like the Tories money. It’s all theres!!!! Not ours! Coming to terms with a family that doesn’t support depression, see’s it as a over-reaction, a burden amongst the family. Something I was told to never tell anyone about as it would decrease my chances of a job, a better university experience. My ‘mild dyslexia’ to which I think is more than mild, is shrugged off by my mother. Professionals tell me different. I cannot trust my unreliable friends, I cannot live a ‘normal’ life of boozing at the weekends with friends. This stopped years ago, and I was told by tutors, I have now grown up.

I feel like I am now learning from year 1. From scratch. Not another chapter, but a fresh book.

My life is filled with much confusion, after my first relationship went tits up, I’ve had to learn to love myself again. It’s taught me to be a stronger person, but am I? My university is 50/50. If I fail, I can’t re-sit, so I fail!! So I don’t have time to be chasing women, I have to be here learning and designing in order to pass this ridiculous institution.

My life has got interesting, so it seems. I now wake up with the intention of doing journalism, and graphics… rather than waking up having to do graphics work, which I merely enjoyed. Now I am excited about my project even more, my involvement with spying on UKIP is taking it’s toll on my head. My sexual life has been radicalised… although I do not wish to say much. My mind is all over, my deadline approaches, and I no longer cry about my ex-girlfriend.

I have started listening to more ska and hip hop music than ever before… blues was bringing me down to much, a change was needed. Classic FM in the mornings to keep my mind at peace from horrible thought. But still.. my life. my strange and confusing life. I feel like my soul is forever descending into an epitome of darkness … yet a fucking gain.

A life of liking.. and until the death of us. So it seems. I saw something on Facebook which made me write this. I, like many other people, constantly ‘Like’ things on Facebook, and take no action towards it, if for example the picture is off picture of something like a beggar on the street… and a quote saying something like END POVERTY END AUSTERITY! we all like it.. becomes a big hitter.. 400,000 likes… Then you turn up to an anti-austerity march and there’s 10,000. Thrilling. The excitement of liking and showing willing, being a sheep. Bahh.
The picture I saw was of a man punching a woman saying “Like – 0 Respect” with another 3 photos of something good, a man giving to homeless, a hero of war (debatable) and something else.. i can’t remember.. But around 400,000 liked it. Yet you see more than 400,000 people in the city of London just ignore homeless people. I hate these two faced people. I have some in my class at uni. People tell me they want to go on marches, protests, demonstrations… and they support all this stuff and believe all this stuff… so what? they fit in? they feel cool? important? … yet don’t be an ACTIVIST?! what’s the fucking point. Your a couch potato watching the big game on TV. Why be a spectator?

I’ve even had some people ask me, why do you do it? why do you put yourself in danger etc??


Keep liking the photos.

What pushes another man to bully another man should be the biggest question. Why have i been through so many ‘systems’ that fail to accommodate my depression and anxiety. These foul beasts at the top clearly don’t have depression otherwise it would be a bigger issue. I was told by my mother that I shouldn’t mention my mental health, it will stop me from getting jobs, people think differently of you… Well she was right. My honest is my forte. My death sentence as it stands. My prison sentence as it is. I think that most of the time the people your asking to help, never have the answers. Never have the help. I get pushed from one person to another, from one organisation to another.

Is depression looked upon like witches in medieval europe, or aids in the modern world. Why do people look at me like i’m strange, odd, abnormal. What is so confusing is why won’t nobody help me? I see these headlines in the newspapers and media programs that because of recent celebrities having suicidal deaths.. it’s bringing to the attention of depression. A word that has haunted my life for years. A word that i seize to exist. Why couldn’t mental health problems be an advantage to a human. After all most of the best genius’s in the world did suffer from depression, including Albert Einstein and of course, mrs Doubtfire – aka Robin Williams. A great actor i fucking loved, mrs doubtfire is still one of the greatest films i’ve watched, so heart warming, so family loving, and yet so deep and dark.

Robin’s life was taken due to depression, and the saying money makes you happy clearly isn’t true, this man was wealthy. I can never push myself to suicide, i’m a coward. I’ve been prevented a few times, which could be why i’m sat here typing this shit instead of been dust in the air, or buried in a wooden box 6ft under. Who knows. Maybe a bus will hit me tomorrow, hopefully.

I don’t have money, i don’t have many friends either, I don’t have good grades and no work to show at all for this year at university. I don’t have no hope in my life, no hope to wake up tomorrow. I lock myself away to a world of self-loathing and anger. Yet my family think I over-react. I must be a fucking good actor to have played this role for around 10 years. Maybe I should take up acting after all, smokey did say

But don’t let my glad expression
Give you the wrong impression
Really I’m sad, oh sadder than sad
You’re gone and I’m hurting so bad
Like a clown I pretend to be glad

Now there’s some sad things known to man
But ain’t too much sadder than
the tears of a clown
When there’s no one around

The Era of Filth and Sluts.

Back in days of the Renaissance, they was a whole load of artwork dedicated to the erotic and horny ladies and gents, and it’s known for it. But back then they didn’t have Primark, Youporn and Perverts. It’s not erotic anymore, its not kinky or sexual, its fucking filth. We live in an era of slut’s wanting constant sex, throwing aids all over the place, religious leaders who hate contraception and have strict rules on ‘sex before marriage’ but yet they rape children. You can enter anything on google and your guaranteed to find porn, some lowlife tart with her tits staring at me from the corner of the screen.

Romance? Don’t make me laugh, I knew a girl who sucked a dick for a packet of £1.99 chips from Wibsey Pizza, and that was suppose to be a romantic walk home with my friend. Oh how I praised him.

Primark and other retailers selling bikini’s for kids under 6 or something fucking daft, yet we have the biggest media coverage of perverts and pedophiles at their best work, still we are all blind and still dress our children in what seem’s to be porn clothing. Women have started wearing less and less clothes, shorter and shorter skirts, so short I can see last night’s dinner. Where’s the class… even these classy women who live in the sticks with million’s are still filthy bastards, still sucking on the pork sword like there’s no tomorrow.

And at what stage did porn become a high street top seller, what happened to this strict catholic country England? We have popes and priests backing ‘sex before marriage’ yet there is Ann Summers on every high street with sex dolls and costumes all over the shop window whilst familys are out doing a shop. What an awkward shop to walk past with a teenager. I enjoy the titty bars, and it’s not even a weird thing, there fucking everywhere, full of creepy men who all go by the name of dave… just call me dave. My friend who is a stripper told me she sells pictures of her feet to men she meets at work. Madness…

This growing culture of ‘young parents’, 15 year old girls talking like 40 year old mum’s, children and parents all still in education and under 18. This is a popular fashion, and it’s fucking up everything. Not just the world’s problem’s like population, employment and money, but its fucking up the future generations mentalities, children from certain areas, who are from certain families, will think this behaviour is cool, its acceptable, its the way of life. Your wrong, and your parents are idiots. The future generations are only going to make it worse, make it into a grimier and more disgusting era of filth of sluts.


As we all know, Rome and it’s ‘greatness’ was quite a myth.. much like how the American ‘Dream’ is a myth, which many 100,000’s of irish and other european immigrants figured out years back. We know the world revolves around the $Dollar$ and when that falls, we all fall… Like the past few recessions, we’ve all collapsed… some worse than others, Greece, Spain… but some have got bigger, UK(mainly London), Australia, India. We all depend on resource… OIL. The romans depended upon Gold. When they ran low, legions couldn’t be paid, so armies got smaller… countries like Germania regained their strength, much like how certain Arab/Asian countries re-gained their power… also the Bolivar Republics in southern america.

We all know that america is falling apart, bit by bit. A black president who has caused more racist conflicts in america than any other president has done since MLK. Obama is scared of russia who much like Germania, showed the rest of the world the weaknesses within the ‘great’ empire of Rome. ‘Rebel’ forces revolting in factions around europe fighting against an unpaid, unfed army. Europe spiralled into a Dark Age. But not everywhere… The Vikings came and gave europe a new life. A very under-estimated empire. Ukraine is at the centre point of this World War 3 early stages… the end is nigh.

I made this blog for the sole purpose of my depression. A platform for me to express myself. A world where I don’t know anybody. Yet my friends ask to see my blog. I have to constantly refuse. Maybe some of them have found it. Maybe they don’t like what they read, but I’m honest. I don’t give a shit what they like and don’t like. This canvas, this platform, this blog is my mind, thoughts and emotions. A confusion of depression, anxiety, anger, a call for help… Yet nobody responds, nobody helps.

Tonight i’ve been on a walk with some random girl from my university. Adriana. An Italian American. Very beautiful. Very friendly and talkative. We walked around our town for a good few hours. Getting to know one another.. it was great. She doesn’t know about my depressing life, and I get to act all happy around her. She doesn’t know i’ve been to the counsellors and doctors about my depression, i’ve been sat crying most of today, until I went on a walk.. I was then smiling. Hopefully I get to meet her again and again and she keeps me happy. She doesn’t do drugs, and barely drinks. She is a good influence and change in my life. A great start to a fresh new me.

She really was a beautiful stranger. Beautiful on the inside, and on the outside, she gave me a beautiful evening. I want to re-pay her!

I am currently serving a 12 month probation sentence with 120 hour of community service. However, I have been getting counselling for depression and anxiety since i was about 12-13. I’m nearly 23. I’ve seen dozens of councillors, private psychologist  (i think it’s called…) and i see a councillor at university.

Mental health has always been a big part of my life. I don’t think that i’ve had a year where i haven’t been depressed and suicide experiences. Many reason behind this.. mostly, it was because of bullying. It gave me a real sense of what a dick i am in public and i get bullied for it. This hasn’t changed. I am a very honest person, I like to think myself a person with good morals. I am from a background of racism, patriotism, living in a bubble of materialism and manipulative media. I broke away from my home city and moved to London, it seems like I was running away from my life in Bradford. Moving to london made me realise these things… made me change. But depression and anxiety hasn’t.

On this probation they give me a ‘re-offending’ percentage.. which was 68% how they worked this out, they said was by my past history, my relationship with drugs and alcohol, the people i hang out, the things i do etc.. So like i said, i’m an honest person, so throughout all of these years i have become more and more open about telling people my feelings and emotions, probably a good reason for me to take an interest in debate, politics etc. So I tell my probation officer everything, things that my friends tell me i shouldn’t tell her. But i do, in order for this system to help me, and for me to be a successful candidate in this system they have to know as much about me as possible. Because i tell her I go to protests, I’m against capitalism, i’m atheist, i hang around with people from rough background, i go to art school with people who experiment with drugs, it almost seems the norm to be taking drugs… my background in Yorkshire is the norm to be a heavy drinker… so my relationship with drugs and booze as you can imagine are pretty intense.

I’ve been a few times now, 4 to be exact. that’s 5 week’s since my sentencing. I’ve been honest and begged the probation officer for help, and my next appointment I will only just be getting started with actual help. The sessions with the officer don’t take long, and normally just filling out forms. not actually doing productive things towards my mental and physical rehabilitation. Which i thought the whole point in a Justice system, is that people who offend, are rehabilitated/re-educated into reality and society. But clearly the British Government look down on their own people to much, and put me at a high risk rate for re-offending. Yet i protest against austerity, government surveillance, wars overseas and much more. I choose to do this because I feel i’m becoming a better person. Yet my government shut me down at every angle. Negativity and pointless travelling to the other side of my county for 30 minutes of form filling. I argued with my probation officer that it should be right that I get travel expenses, and so I do, costing the government £10-20 a week. Due to the closure of local probation offices which are now county offices and a real ball-ache to get to.

Yet I beg for help from my doctors, who prescribed me with ‘Happy pills’ and when i told of the massive side effects it is having, he told me to double my dose. And I am trying to get out of the habit of drugs, yet being fed more. What drug is reality? nobody has ever given me that.  Not yet. Maybe a drug for happiness and love. These only seem to nearly kill me. So I quit, didn’t want another Michael Jackson situation, just because my local doctor couldn’t give a fuck about me. I also paid £25 for a letter from the doctor recently to prove to the court and DSA (disabled student allowance) as I am eligible for it. The doctor said I had been to visit him once, on the matter of depression. THAT’S FUCKING IT! He didn’t look at my medical records like I asked, he just wrote some bullshit letter so now my application for the loan is pro-longed another few month. I’m poor as fuck and the government just rinse me dry. Tax is the last thing on my mind. It’s health and transport, food living in a conservative area is bullshit, my student union rob me blind!! £2.30 for a bottle of water and chocolate bar. RIDICULOUS.
These are all big implications of why I get depressed, and turning to drugs and alcohol has always been my forte.. for as long as I can remember, i’ve abused the fuck outta them. I don’t smoke 1 joint to get high.. I smoke the whole bag. Even by myself. Just for the reason of being high, but it’s a constant high i’m just topping up. Our society is built around drinking, and since the ‘war on drugs’ started back in the 1960’s drugs are fucking everywhere. And so i’m plunged back into this rhetorical bullshit circle of going back to drugs and alcohol to de-stress, relax, enjoy, socialise, eat, sleep, and every other moment of the day.

I’m extremely proud of myself for doing all this, whilst progressing at college and now university.. but my ex-girlfriend said something to me today, as I missed my probation because i was steaming drunk in Brixton, London. She said, my luck will run out, I need to change now, before it’s to late.

So either I’ll get imprisoned, kicked outta uni and left to be some prisoners bitch and thrown back to the shithole of society probably living on the streets when i come out, or i’ll die of an over-dose, become an alcoholic.. like i haven’t already been through that stage…. My fight for happiness is not just a fight against my own mentality and actions, but against my surroundings, my useless government, a failing system, a never ending ‘war on drugs’, a justice system that aims for you to re-offend, a justice system that doesn’t corporate with the patients.

Maybe my luck will run out, everything I try never seems to work, books on inner happiness, happy pills, yoga, sports, healthy eating, no drugs, no booze. I just seem to be going around and around and until i find my path in life, a strong guidance, a strong will-minded change in my mind. until then… i’m stuck with my darkness.

So i’ve just been on a weird adventure. I’ve stopped smoking weed. I’ve actually had to have a few beers at night just to make me sleepy, last night I didn’t nod off till around 5.30am. Fuck. So this adventure… lets call her .. animal A. If i call her suspect or person, it would be unfair… animal seem’s correct. You will find out why when you read…..

Well, Animal A lived with me last year, and there was some sexual tension from her, I got it. I understood that she wanted a piece of my juicy self. So only now, and I bothered going the next step. Animal A has been texting me recently, she even asked if I wanted to be…. wait for it… HER ‘GO TO GUY’ ………. :/          basically, she wanted me to be her fuck buddy…

So I set off at 11.30pm!!!! to Animal A’s house, and i’ve only just got back, it’s 2am… I went there expecting a shag. nice and simple. both up for it… both being quite open and honest about what we want…. but my fucking god. I think my invitation got lost as I was walking there as I ended up at some fucking Kiss and Cuddle party.
We laid there for a good while, just kissing.. i tried my upmost best to seduce her…at  one point she fucking apologies for HAVING HAIRY LEGS… no fucking way. I have a beard right… and i went to touch her fifi and BAMMM.. i thought i was stroking my own face. Not that i don’t mind hair and the natural look of a women… but hairy legs to hairy ponani and I thought i was groping a scottish highlander.

I had to leave. On my way home I was asking myself… WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING… am i really this desperate.. the girl is lovely, and I’m all for personality, but she’s not my type of girl… i like the rouge, nutter, someone who has lived a little with drugs/booze and travelling etc. I don’t like materialistic rich daddy’s girls…. wrapped in a bubble of luxury comforts. I hate that.. but why have i put myself through it, trying to bed one… Since not smoking weed, and since my ex girlfriend, i find it so hard to pull women, and since the weed stopped 2 days ago.. i’ve done nothing but think about sex. fuck knows why. all i did when i was stoned was wank. hahahaha My honesty is probably my forte. which i hate. it gets me into trouble.. but that’s for another post. I just don’t know what i’m doing ….

Don’t worry if you think i’m doing something bad where everyone can see this about Animal A… Nobody i know has my blog and not even Animal A knows I have a blog. I don’t call myself a blogger… I just like to open up on here.

WHAT AM I DOING… no more hairy legs, no more bullshit, no more kidding myself. I hate people who are all talk no action. I’m so against it. Hate it. Wether it be sexually or not. It’s not a good way to live. Me being honest, i told her i wanted to fuck her hahahahahhahaha… and she said she wanted to.. but ‘i wanna take things slow’ doesn’t sound like an orgasm to me.

I wish i lived through the 60’s.


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