applesung

 hello friend. it doesnt feel like i am typing but i am. feels weird right? that this is the life i will be living for ever. i feel so strange like i am going to be forever stuck in a world that continusaly repeats its self and that not matter what happens i will not be able to shake it off. this is like a companion blog. i have to go and figure things out for my self. all i do is live when do i rest am i allowed to rest who says i can and cannot. i think i have a fear of being a failure because all i heard growing up was that i am a faliure and i now know why i am the way i am when it comes to hearing other people feelings its because when i would tell my parents how i felt they would only listen to repsond they would never actually listen to my feelings and try to understand why i am the way i am or try to make me feel better. i remember this now its so clear. remembe rwhen you would tell them that the way you were feeling and they would alwaysing thing you were attachkin them when in facy all i was doing was expressing my emotion and that when i did to that they would always so here we go oh your being this and that and now i do the same thing. jeeeez the after effect your parents have on you is real and ever lastering

$100,00

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still nothing has changed legit she is still the same.

ahh it feels good to write again or is this typing? does this still count? you know what i mean.

its funny how i am wlays trying to change the world its also funny how i get told that i will change the world but when i do try to change the world i get told to stop making people think the way you think.

see the paradox here?

i missed typing my thoughts, i miss the town of sorrow i think this is the same right?

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I am still trying to make it grow. I never know when it will all be gone. What has changed? I have changed. Not mentally but physically. She has stripped me bare. She has taken my flesh, my brain, my soul, and everything else. Not my heart though, see that skeleton up there, that's me. I have kept my heart close, that's the only thing keeping me going, if she takes that, I die. So I will bury it and water it every day. I am just trying to make it grow.

Looking back nothing has changed, she still has the same mindset, same attitude and, same anger. She says it's me, I say it's her. So who is it? The circle comes around in full, when I look at photos of years past the comments and the words are still the same. There is no control nor is there any respect. 

Should I write her a song, would she even care? She has the same personality as the woman who..... well you know who but no matter what I do or achieve she won't be happy, she doesn't know what happiness is, do I blame her? do I blame her past? why not just get the fuck over it and see what is right in front of you. 

If seeing a father and daughter be happy makes you sad because your father was never there for you then won't that also be the case when you become happy now you will start to think about the trauma you had growing up about how you were never happy hence why you cannot show happiness or don't know how to be happy?

ahhhh fuck I'm rambling again, or am I? fuck it let's rhyme, I think it's time.

I don't know how I feel

I can't tell if it's fake or real

you don't know what's the deal

it rains so much outside 

it feels like tears on my window seal

What is luck

is it not what we make it

or am I just star-struck?

wait fuck. 

I was struck 

and now

I'm just stuck 

inside my own walls

that I built

for when I run

out of luck

fuck this it sucks

no music

no creativity

just downright slavery

I see it

they see it

you don't

and you know what

you won't

cause what they wrote

is not what you note

down

no matter what who when where

I wouldn't dare

I would die for you

kill for you

move mountains for you

but next day move ounces

do whatever it takes to make

some ounces, to get paid

don't even get laid

the way I want to

the way we need to

but who knows what

cause at the end of all this

you and I will be nothing but

dust and shit.

how many times do I tell you to let it go

how many times do I tell you to free your mind

free your soul

how many

will you ever let it go

will you ever become me

D R K N Y T

but wait that's my problem

remember

trying so hard to make everyone

around me

like me

but I guess

I have my own way

of changing this world

trying to not make it so cold

tell me what would happen

if your wishes came true 

would you turn blue

would you become you?

I tell you to make it right

before you sleep

before you eat

cause every second that leaves

is a second that you might grieve

what you gonna do when you can't sleep

what you gonna do when you cant eat

what you gonna do when I am not there

to rub your feet

to watch you eat

to help you fall asleep

let it go

cause it has never left

you just have to change

take it out of low range

learn how to shift

learn how to drive stick

fuck it ill go there

go where

go here and there

listen we ain't shit

going to make sure this

doesn't miss

It's a rhyme, not a diss

not everything is an attack

you see that's what you lack

when others write music

those listening realise

that the song its self isn't a hit

but its a bottle holding a message

remember when shit hits hard

when shit I say make you feel scared

just know

that it hurts me more to say it

then the pain you feel

ahhh lost it towards the end

but this is all I have got for now.

nothings changed and nothing ever will.

time heals all wounds

but the wounds don't tell the time

it took to get where i am now its time

for the hook.

ibzzie xx

Always Tired

I am tired of  Earth. These people. I am tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives. Every day their seems to be an issue. Every day their seems to be a problem that we cannot shake off. Every day we tune in and absorb this fake information. We change our feelings without being able to talk about our feelings. We conjure up lies and emotions just to make each other feel okay. We try and pursue happiness where happiness doesn't exist, why?. Why do we continue to move around? Why do we push through adversary? Why do we continue to go to a job we hate? What is the purpose of all of this?

What if the meaning of life is find your true self and to no long hide behind a facade of insecurities? I think humans need to be woken up by hard hitting truths from a loved one that would send them through a spiral of denial until they realise what has happened.

I have not written in a very long time. Well I have but not like this. The old school way of having music loud on my TV whilst I sit on the floor and write my thoughts. Write the bleeding words from my heart. I feel like I have been clogged up with so much to say but no one to say it to. You always listen, don't you? I remember when I used to write here no one knew about this, no one had any idea that behind the fake smile, tattoos, cars and everything else I am, that I am just a scared and fragile man who has built this wall around his brain to keep everything and everyone at bay.

Well what happens when the man in question, my self, is on the verge of loosing everything he has. Does he knock these walls of fear down and allow feelings to come in? 

I am so good at telling everyone else what to do when they ask for advice. Humans come to me when they need advice, they come to me when they are lost and they come to me to talk. But when I need to talk where do I go? I come here.

Here is my blog. I know no one reads these so I feel happy knowing that my thoughts are out there for anyone to read. It's sort of like a letter in a bottle. You know the one? Where sailors will write a letter and put in a bottle and throw it in water. Some never are found and some are found 1 year to 100 years later. This is what this blog feels like.

8:56pm on the 14th of September 2019. Its a Saturday night. I sit here alone whilst my other half is in the shower. Whilst she ponders about me and about what she is doing with me. Sometimes I ask my self the same question, why is she with me? I am damaged goods. I don't need you to feel sorry for me I just need you to see that when I type here the voice in my head stops. When I am alone with music the voice in my head stops. It feels focused on a common goal, now this goal is to finish this and to write how I am feeling at this very moment.

When I am alone I can hear the sounds of my self inside me talking to my self. I built this voice to help me get through my fears. My fears of being alone. I never had anyone to talk to growing up so I spoke to the only person that was always there, my self.

It actually feels so good to write here, it feels like I am helping my self with every letter I write, with every letter I push on my keyboard I feel re aligned.

Let me tell you how it feels like when I am alone, this is the best way to describe it. Get a pen and a paper. Now from the top of the paper draw a line but move the pen from one side of the paper to the other side of the paper till you get a zig-zag sort of line. Now do another line from the opposite side of the paper with the same zig-zag pattern. If you have done this correctly you should have two zig-zag lines overlapping each other. That's how it feels in my head, it feels confused, fuzzy, disjointed and unaligned.

When I write here I feel that the voice in my head and my actual voice are aligned together. They become one. I feel like I am my self. I am not scared to be here. There is no judgement here. Well I am sure there is by some random that is going to read this but heck! what do I care, I don't know them. 

I have never actually explained how it feels to have this voice inside my head. I feel some relief to have actually opened up and explained that.

When I am alone I am scared, I am scared of loss. I am scared of the unknown and even though this whole time you all think I wasn't, that is because of the wall I built to keep the voice at bay.

I need to welcome the fact that I am not sane. I think the big thing for me is knowing I need help but thinking no one can help me except me. I am arrogant to think that anyone out there knows me as well as I know my self and I strongly believe that this is the problem. I am scared of help, I hate to admit that I need help. Because asking for help in some way makes me feel weak, makes me feel that I am not man enough to sort out my own problems.

But what I am being a "man" for? I am no longer single and with the "boys" to have this bravado about me. I know its time for me to change and to no longer hold onto what I am afraid of but to accept it. Accept the fact that its okay to be wrong. Its okay to be scared and its okay to not know it all.

I think also for me I am so ahead a lot of people that I feel when someone says something I dismiss it thinking they know nothing and that I know it all because I have been through so much and that no one can truly understand what I go through every day with the voice in my head.

When that is SO wrong of me. I need to understand and accept the fact that other know more than me and that others will be able to help me. Asking for help isn't weak.

R U OK? I feel so strongly about asking everyone around me that question but I have never stopped and asked my self. I have never looked into my self and tried to sort out my own demons when instead I punish and blame everyone around me which in turn leaves me alone.

A lot of people in my past have said things about me that made me ponder about my flaws and instead of fixing them I became defensive and stubborn and made my self believe that I am right and everyone else around me is an enemy and they are out to get me.

This comes out with tangents of speaking and not making sense, this comes out in ways of my "i don't give a fuck" attitude" and in my persona to other humans.

In fact I give a fuck about a lot of things but I am so scared of admitting it because I feel like I will be judged like less of a man. Crazy aye? I know it is. I know it makes me sound really mentally unstable but I am doing the first thing I think is correct by admitting my faults for the first time in 29 years and now wanting to work towards making my self better. Like fuck me dead I am almost 30, I am not 19 anymore. I have to step up and admit that this voice, my voice has been an issue for me and it has gotten the better of me.

Why though? I have been alone, I mean really alone growing up and this voice helped me. I remember times even when I am with my friends out and about I felt alone. Is this depression? I remember being with them and speaking to my self on the inside thinking about what we are doing at that present time in life. Where are we? Is this what life is? I couldn't help feel sorry for them whilst I was with them. I felt as if they were blind and I was the only one that could see the really issues around us. The real issues that were making the world burn.

Synesthesia - As I write this I have music on. Always when I write I have music on. Not your Katy Perry or Taylor Swift shit I have lo-fi beats on or just beats in general. I feel as the beats progress my writing progresses. You can tell when I get really dramatic in my writing it means the beats have just become really intense and when I get chilled out the beats have mellowed out. I see colours, shapes and stars whenever a 808 kicks, whenever a snare is hit or whenever a drum kick is kicked. I think its amazing I can do all this and all I have to do is close my eyes or even have them opened and just listen.

My other half asked if I wanted a salad. I rejected it. Not because of anything I just have not been hungry today. I might roll up and smoke before I go to sleep but I have barely eaten today. You know the voice feeds on my insides and I feel that when I fast it goes away a bit. I am not feeding the beast.

You know my life humans have gravitated towards me. I have been told that I am special. I have been told that I have a special brain. I know I do and I know that I am. I just cannot be alone because when I am alone as you now know it is not good for me mentally.

Do you think I will look back at this post years from now and reminisce about how I was feeling at the time. Smoking on what I just rolled making me feel healed. Allowing me to cope and write for the very first time in this house just like I used to. High, Music and a computer. Writing my thoughts, writing the pain that is inside me. The pain of living with a voice inside that does't know when to stop. You know I came up with a little rhyme that went like:

"You don't know what goes on up in here (Points to side of head, I smoke all this weed to silence the voices you don't hear"

As I have explained to you before about why I write. Now let me explain to you why I smoke.

I feel that rhyme is the best way to describe why I smoke the reefer. Why combine the both because to me this is pure medicine. Add lo fi beats in the background and I feel like I have a cure. I have not done this in so long that I have been feeling so out of it. You see now next few days I will be 100% fine. No anger, No attitude, No arrogance, No arguments. Until I have to write again. I am going to make this a habit to continue to do this. I am sorry I think this past year has been crazy for you and me and the voice inside. I didn't know that I can actually go sit alone in a room and just type. I always thought I had to be "Around" you know. I feel like cause of you showing me that its okay to do me that i actually can now.

Listen baby, I know you will more than likely read this without me telling you anything, fuck well I hope you do. I know its rough being with me, always with me, always around me. I know its tough. Trust me I do. I know I have said all this before and now your thinking "fuck here we go again" but look at all this I just wrote. I don't even know if half it makes sense its just my rambles. Now ask your self will a sane man do what I just did? Say what I just said and write what i just wrote. The way i wrote.

Know this and know it whatever or forever here's hoping its the latter. I dont love you. I adore you. I am devoted to you. I think the world of you. 

Think it aint true?
Well, fuck let me show you.


Written with Sarah Jordan in mind and heart.



ibzzie xx

Melancholy

If this is a timeline of whenever we fight you would see that it happens once every few months. Some say this is normal other will say it is not normal. Some will blame it on her some will blame it on me. She will blame it on her time of the month and I will blame it on my mood elevations.

I am dressed smartly today. I will go sit on the bench and stare into the heads. I will watch The Nieuw Holland sail through. 

Do I own this life to take it? If i don't take it who will?

Why is my condition not looked at with prevalence. Am I not suffering just as you are? Why can't you not do what you do on the back of what is happening inside me?

Maybe because mines isn't diagnosed or is mines just a joke condition that isn't taken seriously. Maybe I should go get a paper from the men in white coats to prove to you that I have what I have and I am not lying or exaggerating or making assumptions or being passive aggressive or playing the victim or speaking with tone or being rude or being condescending or making you feel like little or making you feel like a maid or doing little things that you think other wise or anything else I have missed. Maybe with a paper from them you will understand the seriousness of this.

Or maybe when its all gone you will notice then. Maybe when good is gone you will realise what you had.

Always that about this place for many years but have kept it at bay. I have never been there as I am scared I will not return. I heard it calls your name when you are there for those that feel the way I do. I have been told these voices are of those that have left from there. I have been told there are letters engraved into the seats, walls and tables there of their last words.

I have been told that there is something creepy about that place but I have never been. I have been too scared. But now I ask what am i scared of?

Whatever will be, will be. 

I am inevitable...