Category Archives: Life


When I was young, my parents told me that honesty is always the best policy.

They were lying.

Donna Tartt – Depression (from The Goldfinch).

I’m not sure if I’m allowed to print extracts from books on here, but will obviously take it down should anyone notice/care.  I just read The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt and this little extract really struck a chord:

But depression wasn’t the word. This was a plunge encompassing sorrow and revulsion far beyond the personal: a sick, drenching nausea at all humanity and human endeavour from the dawn of time.
The writhing loathsomeness of the biological order. Old age, sickness, death. No escape for anyone. Even the beautiful ones were like soft fruit about to spoil. And yet somehow people kept fucking and breeding and popping out new fodder for the grave, producing more and more new beings to suffer like this was some kind of redemptive, or good, or even somehow morally admirable thing: dragging more innocent creatures into the lose-lose game. Squirming babies and plodding, complacent, hormone-drugged moms. Oh, isn’t he cute? Awww. Kids shouting and skidding in the playground with no idea what future Hells, awaited them: boring jobs and ruinous mortgages and bad marriages and hair loss and hip replacements and lonely cups of coffee in an empty house and a colostomy bag at the hospital.
Most people seemed satisfied with the thin decorative glaze and the artful stage lighting that, sometimes, made the bedrock atrocity of the human predicament look somewhat more mysterious or less abhorrent.
People gambled and golfed and planted gardens and traded stocks and had sex and bought new cars and practiced yoga and worked and prayed and redecorated their homes and got worked up over the news and fussed over their children and gossiped about their neighbours and pored over restaurant reviews and founded charitable organizations and supported political candidates and attended the U.S. Open and dined and traveled and distracted themselves with all kinds of gadgets and devices, flooding themselves incessantly with information and texts and communication and entertainment from every direction to try to make themselves forget it: where we were, what we were.
But in a strong light there was no good spin you could put on it. It was rotten top to bottom. Putting your time in at the office; dutifully spawning your two point five; smiling politely at your retirement party; then chewing on your bedseet and choking on your canned peaches at the nursing home. It was better never to have been born – never to have wanted anything, never to have hoped for anything.

Great book too.


Extricate yourself from the one who drags you down

Push her hands away from you Swim and let her drown

Stay afloat (for a while) and let her drown

She is sinking, descending into the depths

Watch her face recede from you

Break away

Don’t let her eyes hold yours

Don’t let her hold you

Don’t let her drag you down

Save yourself


You feel yourself humoured, your “funny turns” tolerated.

You find yourself isolated, no one really listens.

You’re deafened.  And silenced by their deafness to you

The receptacle into which you poured your love, so much of your love is an empty vessel when you try to drink.

Nobody cares what you say or think.

No one knows or cares how it feels, not enough to help you, to hear you,

to love you enough.

No wonder you’re ready to die.

Like A Drug

I’ve been waiting for my life to start

Someone new like you to tear my cosy world apart

And after all this time I’ve spent waiting

I feel so scared to finally think it might be happening


Your love is like a drug to me

Flowing through my veins, in my blood stream, yeah

Your love is like a drug to me

Take away my pain, paint over the world with dreams


Tell me just what I’m supposed to do

I know I only feel okay when I am close to you

I’ve learned to love my vulnerability

The feeling’s so intense, can you sense my fragility?


Your love is like a drug to me

Flowing through my veins, in my blood stream, yeah

Your love is like a drug to me

Take away my pain, paint over the world with dreams


Is it best to be a pessimist

And keep your expectations low in case it all goes wrong?

Is an optimist a fantasist?

Will you tell me what the hell you think is going on?


To beat the odds and cheat the gods

Like Ulysses, can you believe?

Delirious, I must confess I can’t assess what I perceive cos…


Your love is like a drug to me

Flowing through my veins, in my blood stream, yeah

Your love is like a drug to me

Take away my pain, paint over the world with dreams


Oh yeah

Give me visions

Too scared

The moment I wake up, I’m sick with fear.  I can’t function in this world.  There is no place for me, no space, no use.

No one wants me.  Everyone tells me,

“Be someone else, not who you are.  You’re a brand, a commodity, an object in the market place.”

I don’t want to be.  I want to be me.  Well, I don’t… I hate myself.  I hate my situation, I hate my life, my failure, my 24/7 pain.

But I want to be allowed to be me, not forced to contort and distort myself into something someone can find a use for, a servant, a tool, something to be used to make someone else more money.

We used not to be brands.  We used to be human beings.

I want to kill myself, but I’m too scared.  How pathetic is that?