Thursday, 17 July 2014


Reading with Fatty

It's a warm winters day. I sit outside soaking up some vitamin D with my good pal here, Fatty. I've been staying with a friend for two weeks now, I leave in two days, and while we were cleaning out the wardrobe in my temporary room, we came across this old book of her mum's (second picture). I began to read it a few days ago and by God, it is amazing. It was from a real journal of an innocent and naive 15 year old girl who's life goes to, well, shit, after drugs. 

It amazes me by how absolutely relatable she is; almost feels as if this book was meant to be read by me, and warn me. I am not a heavy drug user and I've never touched the hard stuff but what she has gone through have once been my fears. 
There was once a time, actually a long time, where I felt absolutely hopeless. I was naive and as a result felt completely and utterly disappointed in the world. It sure as hell was not what I expected. I had these high expectations of life and love and felt cheated by Disney for giving me these false ideas of how things would be. 
Drugs were my escape to a beautiful world. They were both a distraction and a doorway to magic and utter happiness. However, I was educated on drugs, unlike poor 'Alice' here and knew moderation was absolute key. 
Not going to lie though, I did have my weak points where I wanted to leave society, join a hippie convent and escape reality every second of every day. 
There were times when I wanted to leave reality altogether and fall into an endless sleep. 

I know I am not the only one who has ever felt this way. Perhaps you currently feel this way now. 
I'll let ya in on something; it gets better. First, you need true friends that you can have a ball with completely sober, and secondly, you need a hobby of your own. I stopped writing in this period and I swear it contributed to me growing crazy. Not expressing myself was the worst thing for me. Everything makes much more sense to me when they're words in front of me. In fact, this is the first time these thoughts have left my mind. 

Drugs probably had the best outcome possible for me; they opened my mind and made me a kinder and much less judgemental person. In fact, I found peace and acceptance of myself, and now no longer feel the need for them. However, I do not want to influence you and if you think you are weak, depressed or have an addictive personality then I beg you not to try them. Because the truth is, drugs are majority of the time used by those who are trying to fill a hole. I was trying to fill a hole and began to rely on that clog to distract me from the hurt that I denied and denied and denied until I fell asleep from being worn out by all the lies I told myself throughout the day. If it weren't for my family and friends, I wouldn't be where I am today. 

I was searching for beauty through drugs, but I forgot it was always there. There's beauty in the world that you don't have to see with their help, like the duck in the back yard that's protecting his eggs (third picture), and didn't leave them even though Fatty threatened his existence (naughty Fatty); or the stillness of the lake across the road that perfectly reflected the stars and moon as if it were a doorway to the rest of the universe last night; or the kind bus drivers who make my day by being extra kind to me and having a chat with a homeless man during his whole ride.
And, when you can't find the beauty, be the beauty. Be the beauty you want to see in the world and be the hope for others, as for all we know, they could be searching for the same thing. 

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