My alarm goes off. I reluctantly get out of bed, sluggishly walk across the room to turn it off and immediately head back to the comfort of my duvet. Fuck this day.
The intense dread to face the world doesn’t occur on a regular basis, nor does the feeling of defeat but, when it hits, it hits pretty damn hard.
I lay in bed. Making the firm decision that I’d like to go nowhere and do nothing and that the world is horrid and full of dickheads. But of course, that option is off the table. I have a laundry list of responsibilities that need my attention.
I eventually roll myself out of bed and get ready for the day that lies ahead; The one I’d not like to be part of. The kitchen is a mess, as is my room, it’s cold and there’s a hole in the wall that’s been there for over a year. Fuck London houses.
As I walk towards the underground I have an urge to scream at all the slow pedestrians, especially the happy ones and as I change trains at Bond Street I feel an intense urge to want to push people down the escalator. I get a sort of sick pleasure from the thought.
I check my phone and have too many notifications to deal with. There are 53 unread emails I need to attend to, 22 Facebook messages waiting for my reply and there are several WhatsApp and text messages I’ve ignored for days. I really want to hit a ‘reply all’ button and tell everyone to fuck off and leave me alone.
We live in an incredible age where communication is so easy yet for some reason sometimes it feels more difficult. It feels empty. People look to satisfy their own selfish needs and don’t consider that perhaps always demanding you to do something for them is not what you want to do?
There’s this pressure to always talk about how great things are. You run into people on the street or at a party and they always ask how you are and rather than be honest and engage in real conversation about your struggles you assume no one cares about your shit:
“Oh yeah! The music career is going great! So happy to be in London following my dream.” The young man says as he takes a sip of his Guinness, knowing that he’s late on rent, hasn’t written a song in months and his girlfriend just broke up with him because he’s obsessed with getting signed to a record label.
Can we all please just acknowledge that sometimes life is shit and we get depressed and all we want to do is punch someone in the face? Would that be so bad? Because that’s how I’ve been feeling.
I’ve been isolating myself and I doubt every decision I make. I talk about trusting the process and I do believe this to be true but I’m also realising how difficult that is in practice. Starting a business I can’t fully describe yet, dusting off an old dream of wanting to act and learning how to truly be alone - It’s fucking tough and I’d like to take this moment to applaud all of you who are on a similar journey. Following your dreams and standing for what you believe in is a noble pursuit and we must remind ourselves that no matter what we do (follow more conventional roads or pave our own path) difficulties and challenges will always present themselves.
And this is the thing see. The world is not a perfect place, nor are we. You’re going to meet people you really don’t like and who you consider to be dickheads. You yourself will be a dickhead sometimes. You’ll want to give up, run away, sell all your belongings and move to an island. That’s okay. The perfect lives we see on social media are smoke and mirrors. No one is happy all the time. Those who try (and I’ll raise my hand here - heck, I’ll raise both of them!) are missing opportunities to grow. It’s not about being happy and fulfilled every day.
The power comes in being able to choose how we respond to things. Because that is what human beings do. We either go down a self-destructive path or we decide to pick ourselves up, move forward and create something.
Anyways, I’ve not been bouldering this week.