In the Depths of the Sea

Howling down those ragged streets.

Wind blown from the deepest of depths;

The most savage of lands.

A place no man could ever stand.


Broken memories.

And shattered dreams.

Drifting those streets, ravaging.


I think, what is what.

And what is next, when one becomes not.

A place, a sound, a notion?

Life lived in the face of maybe?

And what does that face look like,

When one cannot see?


Sorrow, and contemptuous greed.

A heartbeat in the core of the sea.

Deep, deep, deep down;

The farthest of depths, escaping all sound.


And what is not;

Transformed from what was never.

And what is never, is always not.

Circling above the land of existential thought

Carried with the current of forgiving naught.

The retched ambiguity of suffered sanity.


So, the days are long.

Especially when a day is not,

And a night is certain, long, worn untill the bitter end.

So… some things, they simply never were.


Those Who I Love

There are very few people in this world that I like, and there are even fewer that I love. We all know how strange, painful, and beautiful love can be. Love is an idealistic thing, we all want it to work out exactly the way we think it should, exactly the way we believe it to be. We see nothing else as acceptable, it is incomparable.

There is my family – that love is unconditional, of course. And then there is one other person I feel something close, some type of love towards. Not romantic, or at least not measurably. For it is complicated, very much so. And something such as that would most likely be an impossibility. Yet, this does not mean I value it any less, because it has become one of the most important things in my life. Anyhow, love comes in all different forms – romantic love is just one type.

Obviously I am no Master of Love, my anxiety has always prevented that, and I don’t see a time in the near future when it won’t be an impossibility – not the ‘love’ itself, but what it might take to reach that point, what I would have to do in order for it to come around. And I don’t see any point in the future, period, when it will be anything but massively hard. But this is my life, this is who I am, and that is something that I must come to accept. That is the most important thing anyone has to accept.

Love can come in my future, I will accept that, I will wait for that. There is one thing I always think – You cannot miss something you have never had. I don’t know if somebody else said this, or whether it is something my unconscious mind conjures up.

Does it matter?

-Chris ❤

Faceless Exhibitions

With motion under my feet.

And the world passing on my left.

A day in limbo, different to all the rest.


Onboard that moving passage;

Destination wisely unclear.

Well, actually, it’s all on paper…

From the station to the gallery.


A friend beside; supposedly.

Though I never did know what he made off me.

Especially when the others waltzed along.

Coming from nowhere, seemingly.


Back then, it was difficult to build any bridge.

Harder when all I saw was my own incompetence.


Exhibitions, photography, and endless reveries.

That place, that person – me amongst the rest.

For I could not talk; For they could not listen.

And so I sat back, sulking in my own surreptitious admission.


Four hours. Minutes into years.

Time slipping by; no company but those exhibitions

A surrealist image of a man encased in dust.

A man left in the rain to wonder, and to rust.


A smile, shown every way but mine.

Laughter from all mouths but mine.

Joy from all minds but mine.

And I asked, why?

What have I royally fucked up this time?


Trust, People

Trust, it comes by harder than most things.

Who can I trust? Who can I not? What level of trust is there? What if that trust is broken?

These are the questions that run, pile through my mind when I think of opening up, letting myself be really seen by a person. Granted, there aren’t many people in my life – my family, and a couple of old school friends. These are the only people I have to trust. The only people who I could ever trust. Well, that isn’t wholly true, there is one person I trust impeccably, but I have never seen their face, nor heard their voice. Still, they are very dear to me.

Anyhow… trust. Why does it take so much, such a great deal of effort?

I sometimes wonder what life would be like if I knew I could trust every person I met, if I knew there would be no judgement, no apprehensiveness in my abilities, or anger in the lack of. What kind of utopia would this be?

But we exist in reality.

I want to be free of all that burdens me, I want to be transparent in the world, for people to see me for what I really am. Most of all I want to trust myself to not fall apart, to not be perpetually on the edges of danger, to know and to trust that I will be able to pull through the burdens, the things that afflict me. And I want others to trust this too. Trust that I am capable, so that I can trust in them, in their support and withstanding of me.

Trust… where does it begin and end?






On Loneliness

I am lonely, dreadfully so.

Loneliness… it’s sometimes a difficult concept to grasp. It creeps up on you, unassuming, writhing at parts of your brain, opening gates to parts of yourself you would rather not see.

Because being lonely isn’t just the need to be around people. It is more than that. Loneliness is a complex character that hides the darkest of corners, that pounces in the darkest of moments. It’s something you cannot tame nor understand in any sense. It is an enigma. Illusive and destructive.

I do have family.

I don’t have very many friends.

I have never been in a relationship.

I am lonely.

For the majority of the day, I am my own company, my own sense of humour, my own entertainment. This, I can withstand, this in many respects, I enjoy. I am an introvert. A lot of people, a lot of interaction does nothing for me, and I know it never will. What I don’t particularly like is the lack of options, the lack of any interaction at all.

I know I am at fault, mostly. I can’t expect to have friends or relationships if I don’t put myself out there, I know that. And knowing this hurts, because it is an extremely high hurdle to overcome, to even look at in a respectable light. Yet, here I sit, alone, typing these words, wishing there was someone next to me.

Maybe loneliness itself isn’t an entirely bad thing. We all realise and see the stigma and social pressures of being alone, they stare and slap us in the face on daily basis. This is, in part, why we feel lonely. Just maybe we can benefit from the lack of people. It gives us a chance to listen to our own rambling thoughts, to partake in all the commotion that resides in our own minds. Do something with that time, create, live life, be who you want to be. Loneliness doesn’t intrinsically mean unhapiness, it is a by-product – though it doesn’t have to be!

Just don’t forget, people are necessary.

(P.S, to all the beautiful introverts out there, read Susan Cain’s book ‘Quiet’.)

Anxiety, and Me

Many of us experience it, all to vary degrees. To some it is crippling, debilitating, to others, simply a nuisance, an unwanted gaze on a cold day. For myself… it is well, somewhere close to the effect of Yellowstone exploding inside my head, each and every moment.

At twenty, I don’t have the biggest hold on life in any respect, I will be the first one to hold my hands up to that. And although that is the case there are a few things I do understand, and that is how different my life could be. Also what is required for that change. Though, knowing and doing are two completely separate things. Doing is a dream we all hope for, yet rarely ever reach.

We all know what it is to feel anxious at some point in our lives: a job interview, the first day of a new school or university, a date – you understand. That’s normal to feel anxious in those situations, it is the natural response to keep us cautious, wary of what we might come to face, be that a lion or a scary person in a too-tight suit. Things have changed in the world, but that fight or flight response remains the same, unknown that we no longer have to run through miles of grassland, but miles upon miles of streets, of roads and inevitable human interaction. Yes… human interaction.

Suffering from this, sometimes I understand it is hard for a person who does not, just like I don’t know what it is to live in Mexico. I may appear rude, dismissive, but that is not me. That is not us. Simply… imagine a filter, anything that reveals anything of yourself, of your feelings – however trivial, none of that can be said, it cannot pass the filter in the mind, as much as I would like it to. Approaching someone I don’t know, buying something in a shop, attending a job interview, walking the dog, asking people questions, public speaking, being intimate – mentally and physically. They are all great hurdles. Some are approachable on a good day, on bad days, leaving the house at all can be troublesome.

Over the years I have heard so many things, the most irritating: Just do it! They’re just people! What are you afraid of! Everyone else manages! That’s nothing! You’re joking! You want me to do that, do it yourself! I’ve learnt to take them with a pinch of salt, to no longer feel the little stab after each one is said. I wish for greater understanding of things you cannot see nor envisage. But I know that is a pipe dream.

Don’t think I’m bitter, it’s just painful knowing that people have the same expectations for myself as they do for all the other people who can manage just fine in this cruel world. I remember this when people push things onto me, because to them, I am a normal person. And being normal is an ideal I’ve been desiring for a long time. So, I’ve learnt to take nothing personally, because I know in most cases it is not meant as such. Still, it’s hard to accept this burden of normalcy, when I am anything but. Although over time the acceptance has grown, and slowly I’m coming to understand my quirks and intricacies. I am who am I, is that something I want to fundamentally change? No, I don’t think so. Only, it’s something I want to manage – to live with.

I try to push myself, though it is not easily done. My ordeal during my week at university demonstrates that as well as anything. And I did try, no matter how it seems from the outside. It killed me. I could take no more. That is the sad and unfortunate reality.

You can’t let these things get you down too much though. Over time it will kill you, it has torn me apart. Remember there are always seccond chances. Don’t feel ashamed. Don’t feel alone in this lonely world. There are others out there! Others just like us, you!

I implore any of you who suffer with even anything remotely similar, to help yourselves, to get help before realising it too late, that too much time has passed.

A Part Of A Person

If anyone came to me for advice about love, about relationships, even friendships, they would be sorely disappointed. I often ask myself what the point of love is, having not distinctly felt it beyond family, it’s a hard theory to grasp.

We live in a time when individuality, being alone, liking to be alone is frowned upon. We must find a partner, someone to love, someone to share our lives with. Because if not… we have surely failed? People are apprehensive of the person who might sit at home reading, writing, enjoying the company of solitude, rather than dancing, drinking, socialising. But why? It’s understandable than one person can enjoy one thing that another could dislike, everybody understands that – music, films, people. And yet those distinctions stop when it comes to behaviour.

Why do people think it is so troublesome to spend time alone?

Sometimes I find it hard to distinguish between my true thoughts and those I tell myself I should be feeling in any normal situation. That’s the thing about love though, isn’t it? Nobody truly knows what it is or how it feels. It is a subjective phenomenon that means something completely different to each and every person.

I haven’t felt it. That is the reality. I tell myself, I’ll know it when I feel it. Thank you 500 Days of Summer. (That film’s an institution for anyone wondering!)

And yes, like all other people, I do desire to feel it – whatever it might be, and however it might come. Maybe it is one of those things that disappoints, that can never live up to all the idealistic expectation that surrounds it. And that eventually, however great at the beginning, it always falls away, waning. Maybe it is this that makes me hesitant. Yet, in reality I know it is all those other problems that rule over my days like a devil on amphetamine. It is simple this way.

My anxiety is the catalyst for all my troubles. I know that. It is not hard to see. I have never being able to get close to a person because of this. There used to be a time in the past when this thought ruined me, kept me from sleeping, kept my eyes from being dry. Now it seems nothing more than an irk, as though I have given up on the notion of closeness and intimacy. And now, at the age of twenty, I am alone. But in this sense, I have always been alone.

I sometimes wonder if it is possible to miss something you have never had.

Can I see myself in a relationship, in love? No, not in the near future. I don’t know how much time is needed to make myself ready for that. I know that before something of that magnitude can happen, I need to improve every other part of myself first.

I see it in films and read it in books. And I ask myself – what if that was me? Would I be happy? Would love solve all the things that trouble me. I am not naive enough to believe so, as much as I wish I was. But it honestly feels like I’m missing out on something important. I have this pit of loneliness inside of myself, and with every passing year it grows deeper and deeper. And at the moment it is so deep I can barely see the bottom.

I long for something to fill that.