Crystal Clear.

Happy in 2012, outside a house in Japan... aka The British Museum

“If you only had one day left to live, would you go to war, would you search for peace, or would you just waste time?”

Twelve months ago, I was living a daily hell, deep in the heart of the devils rectum; commonly known as clinical depression. For anyone unaware of this place, it goes beyond the stereotypical prototype of feeling shit about life. And while I would happily roll off the never ending list of symptoms which hounded me inside the illness, this is better suited for another time. However, there is one particular element I would like to focus on, related to the private internal war of this disease; the notion of existence, and how it challenges the way in which you both see it, and live it.

In a healthy mind, we live with hopes, dreams, aspirations, and a host of plans to set up a more productive future. In essence, we concurrently live by day, by week, by month, by year, and by decade; each avenue changing, along the advent of time. At the very worst of depression, you are not living by day, hour, month, or year, you are living moment to moment. There are no thoughts of the future - for there is no future. There are no weekend plans, daily tasks, or happy memories of all the wonderful achievements in our lives - there is nothing; just 95% ever fluctuating forms of suffering, and 5% survival - the most important 5% you may ever discover within you.

Looking back, I can remember strands of time where daylight fell, genuinely believing I may never see the light of dawn again. Writing this now, it sounds ridiculous, but at the time, I was sick, very, very sick; I honestly believed I was either going to die, or be struck by a sudden impulse to take my own life. I wasn’t bitter, or angry, I was only scared and upset; knowing I was going to miss all the wonderful experiences of life I constantly took for granted - most of which were free, simple, and easily discarded for some pointless thought of wasted negative garbage. 

I missed hearing the passion of my brother over the phone; as he asked my opinions on the latest newspaper scum story of the week. I missed sitting on an outdoor bench by myself; drinking a diet coke, people watching, and pondering pointless philosophical notions of life. I missed the moment of opening my netbook in Starbucks, before writing whatever come to my concious. I missed the final steps of a long weights and cardio workout. Most of all, I missed the random adventures with my girlfriend; laughing and joking, as we ripped into every passing weirdo. All the arguments, wars, and battles I had been involved in - many self-created, seemed futile. I saw them for the complete waste of energy they were. I guess it is really a question of time; the less you feel you have, the more value it attains - why allow it to burn in the hatred of destruction, when the bridges of love build a path everybody can benefit from.

The illness taught me many harsh lessons – some of which I am only now beginning to fully accept and understand. It taught me how I am a mere part of a greater whole, and the only true enemy of life is when we lose control of our ego. It taught me how all human beings are incredibly sensitive, fragile creatures; everyone is a rich ball of mesmeric, positive light - it is just some build the wrong type of barriers to protect it. They are human, they make mistakes... we all do.

When you live in a world where there is no tomorrow, today becomes everything. When today becomes everything, your mind has no intention on making it a place of anger, war, and general negativity. Since this period, I reconciled a stupid disconnection with my eldest brother, and let go of every last issue related to anyone I ever fought with; if they are willing to accept me as I am - which isn't hard, as I am quite lovely, then I do the same. If they do not, I will still accept them anyway, and hope they one day do so too. For this, I am much happier. For this, I can never see myself burning another bridge, for the rest of my days; for purely selfish reasons, it is a massive weight off my shoulders - stagnant burdens are heavy bastards to carry.

 

I no longer live life day to day, and have slowly spent the past year building myself back to a life with both a past, a present, and most importantly, a bright, hopeful future. I have a girfriend who may have saved my life without knowing it, a family who may never stop functioning on dysfunction, and a receding hairline. But its all part of the beauty of life. It is a gift; just presented to us in a funny kind of wrapping paper.

If I only had one day left to live, I would not waste time going to war, I would search for peace. But this is just me; I only know it works, and I am much happier for it now, than I was in 2011...

Lee.  

Nice Guys (And Girls) Finish First.

Nice guys finish last. Unfortunately, so do nice girls. It is a simple philosophy for the genuine; they motion through the days as merely themselves - heart firmly written along the lines of their honest eyes. There are no manipulative jokers hidden within their sleeves. No ulterior motives sandwiched behind the lines of their words. And in general, no action designed to destroy another; in order to move their game piece a pointless inch forward. Nice people offer compassion, time, and a belief that those they are honest to, will in some way offer honesty in return. This, is why nice guys – and girls, unfortunately, finish last.

The general perception towards the nice is one of a kind, naive weakness. They are those who wander around searching for acceptance, trying to be liked, wishing to enter doors of a screwed up system of civilisation - designed by liars and game players, purely for being their true selves. A nice person is not as much nice, as they are real; strong enough to not need to create a fake impression of themselves, in order to fit in. Yes, the world does not reward this - even though it should. Nice people never created racism, money, political structures, notions of dominance or subservience. A nice guy didn’t shoot Abe Lincoln, spilt the atom, or nuke Japan.

It is a rough world - we all know this. It is often brutal, unrelenting, cruel, mean, nasty, and downright evil at the hardest of times. During these rough patches, the last type we wish to meet, are those solely out for themselves. Conversely, meeting a nice person whilst in hell, is invigorating and rejuvenates the spirit. Usually, when we are brought to this place when humanity shits on us - as opposed to a pissed off form of nature, it is never a nice person who sends us there; the good will always pick up the pieces, the rest wont even stop to take a look - unless to benefit some twisted impulse to view a car crash. of sorts.  

So I am saluting the nice guy and girl. Those who – no matter how many weak minded and cold hearted users, abusers, or manipulators arrive to crush the paths these kind souls walk along – for their own pathetic insecurities, still arise each new day, and give their all to the life they live. I salute the woman who offers her seat, the soldier who listens to each selfish bastard piss and moan about their failures, whilst never once asking a reciprocal question. The man who clears his table in a coffee shop, or re-racks his weights at the gym. I salute the blood donor, the animal lover, the Samaritan, the saint, and the straightforward. You are the real shimmering light of the often misunderstood human spirit; shining through the walls of even the darkest nights. The world may punish you, as much as it probably should reward you, but to retain such positive warmth throughout life towards an often incredulous species, is truly incredible.

In turn, I also raise a fat middle finger to all the users, abusers, manipulators, and dirty underhanded game players, who seek to destroy the true marvel of human nature. Human nature is not riddled with negative actions and devious ploys as much as we have been forced to accept, it is just those few lazy scum-bags who turned the perception of life on its head to convince us otherwise. The truth is, you people are the weak. You are the cowards of this planet. You are the ones who lack the heart to carry openness to life. In essence, you are the kid who turned up to a blissful game of football, and ruined it by planting seeds of shit amongst a once peaceful opposition; then justifying it with delusional self-absorption - basically shitting on a bright day. Nice people may finish last, but they aways retain their integrity; wankers, on the other hand, sell it in a job lot with most other positive characteristics they don't work hard enough to deserve. 

Nice guys – and girls, unfortunately, finish last. In my world… they are Grade A winners. Everyone else? I tolerate you… nothing more, nothing less.

Lee.

Time.

It is morning. You awake. Before you lies a normal day under the normal skies of your normal life. The usual sights and sounds you have known for all these years surround you; this provides comfort. You rise from your bed, perform the standard ritualistic cleansing and organisational duties, then enter the outside world to face another day; an average person, in an average world, ready to perform many predictable, average tasks.

Moments before you arrive to your destination, a stranger – at least twenty years elder, stops you dead in your tracks. You have never seen them before, but the hidden look of desperation in their eyes seems eerily familiar. You are of equal height, exact build, and their mannerisms echo your own like an ageing carbon copy. With a sharp breath, they tell you what you already know, but were too afraid to believe… they, are you; back from the future.

They tell you they have returned to save your life - at least, save it from stagnation. They tell you the door you are about to enter will remain the door you are about to enter, two decades from now. They explain a sobering reality in how your past, present, and future revolve around one job, one path, one vision, and one boring philosophy. You tell them nature will provide plenty of opportunity, and your hopes, dreams, and ambitions, shall eventually pull you away from the repeated drudgery of this path. In a flash they confess – as you see the brutal truth in a pair of eyes you have been lying to your whole life, that these are mere idle thoughts, designed to keep you working on a dream which isn't even yours; the carrot on the stick tied to the head, always slightly too long for the arms to reach.  They warn you to reject the growing security of predictability. They beg, plead, and moan, to get the living hell out of this terminal existence; to start somewhere new…. start somewhere new. 

In a moment you peer down to compose yourself. Glancing up, your future has vanished. You enter the doors of your employment, all is normal - the only exception being the lingering cloud over your head, reminding you there is more to existence than merely existing. Looking around your co-workers and colleagues, you begin to view them as monkeys; well meaning, but ignorant and weak. You can tell very few will ever escape – not because it is physically improbable to do so, but because they have chosen to allow it to become mentally impossible instead. You complete the normal tasks of your normal day in your normal life. Nothing seems different. The usual sights and sounds you have known for all these years of your current life surround you, and this provides comfort.

You arrive home. You think for a second about the chance meeting. Looking in the mirror, you appear different; you are now at least two decades older, and are remembering a memory of many years ago. You have now become the elder you, you once met; you agree with every word they said. Tomorrow, when you awake, you will tell the younger you exactly what you once heard - hoping, for once, you will listen. 

Lee.