A confused mind at nineteen

I started this year off well with everything. A girlfriend, progression in the gym, and the strongest sense of family I’ve had since I was 10. My life seemed to be perfect.

January 22, myself and my partner broke up. I was bad at figuring out what she wanted and making that extra effort most women find romantic. Was I lazy, too comfortable, or just ignorant to my surroundings? She wasn’t good at communication, so for me, I found it hard to think that this could’ve been the result of our relationship. She never complained, asked for more, or rarely told me when I was messing up. In my mind, we were perfect until we weren’t, and the reality of what she was truly feeling presented itself. I won’t go into detail about our issues, rather tell you the basic outline of why we ended. I would always ask more from her and irritate her; she would put up with it, letting it build and fester to the point where it was too much, ultimately ending our relationship seven days after our anniversary.

At first, I was distraught, though I cherished what we had and understood the life experiences times like this present. Yes, I was hurt. However, I learned what a partner should be whilst understanding how to be a better one.

A few months later I started reverting back to that crazy kid I once was before I was with her. Someone who loves to party, drink, and talk to women. I was aware that I was unhappy, though the fast life distracted me from my reality. Secluding myself away from family yet again; something I did when I was 17. Living with an occasional alcoholic father, overly stressed mother, and a judging but understanding sister.

My sanctuary stayed the consistent: music and the gym. Music was my advice, my voice of comfort, present me with variety on how people live, creating this sense of understanding within the world, instilling empathy. Relating to the songs in which painted a picture similar to the one I was drawn in.

For me my solitude was found amongst J. Cole and his music, he became my shoulder to cry on. Countless times, his words of wisdom, relatability, and comfort always made me feel safe and accompanies, like a baby calmed down by the touch of his mother. He got me through some of my darkest hours. ‘Once an Addict’, an experience rather than a story; of a man whose mother was an alcoholic, staying out late, avoiding her, seeing his role model in an intoxicated state and telling us how it crushed him. Which is what I experienced with my own father.

In my heart I knew he had a good soul. Though I was still aware of the demons he was facing. Sadness, envy and the loss of his sense of belonging were just a few. As a youthful man, this killed that little boy inside—the kind of kid who wanted his dad to teach him everything about the world but was shut down with countless excuses.

Paired with a broken heart, I was lost.

J. Cole provided me with that father figure which wasn’t present in my life. He’d talk to me for hours about girls, hardships, and almost anything a situated teen may experience. Parallel to this, I had so many pent-up emotions, I needed to let them out. The gym was my outlet

Now, don’t get me wrong, I love what I’ve created with my body, being the most in-shape person I know; however, I’ll never felt satisfied.

Though the start of my year has started rough, I’ve been feeling happier lately. I’ve started University, gained a lot of connections, and had so many new experiences that I’m greatly thankful for. What’s there to be unhappy about?

A mind so confused, so complex; I wonder, does everyone has this problem? If so, is this the beauty of a human mind?

I have no plans or goals for the future, rather an idea of what I want. A life full of experience, freedom, and love. The type of life so fulfilled that even my grandchildren envy. I want to be a person people look up to, learn from, and be that father figure J. Cole was to me.

July 13

In my room I’m sat down on my bed. Listening to a playlist I made which helps me think; Drake speaks to me on a song called ‘is there more’. I applied for some job applications today, do I think they’ll go forward? No. But that’s the point, put myself in positions that will potentially benefit me in the future. Isn’t that the point? The point of everything we deem “good” in this world, and how we become recognised. A kid aspiring to make the NBA, he joins a team instead of only playing at school. He tries out for state. He gets in. he plays. He gets recognised by scouts. He makes the NBA. And that same system is relevant to everything we do. We want money; we apply for a new job position that pays better than our previous. We want fame, we post on social media. We want a partner, we approach them or join a dating site.

I take a puff of my vape. It calms me down. If life is a calculated system, an algorithm set to which we are exposed to and rarely hear how someone got to where they wanted using a self-made design. Do we do this to ourselves? Tie our creativity down because of how the next and previous man did it. As I listen to Dave and Central Cee on the track ‘CRG’, It presents a thought to me; one day I want to be able to relate to the rich, even the small issues, the ones that make me laugh. Which tile do I want in my kitchen? A question most people will never ask. Not by choice, by financial draught.

As a nineteen-year-old, by law I’m an adult, but do I know anything about being an adult? Taxes? Superannuation? It creates an illusion in a young person’s mind that we aren’t where we should be, that’s youth for you. We’re innocent. Innocent to life, inexperienced to what I believe the lord has set up each and everyone’s life to be. The things in which we are ignorant to now, in the future will be the things we deal with exponentially.

In what I’m writing I don’t want to mention God too much, as I want whoever reads this to relate to the words I write, if I ever do anything with it. My relationship with God is not the strongest. I fell back into sinning after the breakup. Quick and fast comforts are all they bring, though lust brought back a sliver of Her that was still felt inside of me.

The soft touch of a woman, a woman who loves you, is so pure; I don’t think it’s talked about enough. For what I was trying to get back, it wasn’t even Her, it was the feelings She brought out of me. You know that feeling, the fire you build up between the two of you, filled with intimacy and completed through seeing a look of aw in their eyes. Have you ever looked at someone and experienced shell shocked? For me that was what I considered aw… beauty.

Do you remember your first crush? The very first time in which you became infatuated with someone. That was my “fire”, the love so active it raises your body temperature, as if a live volcano was in your heart.

Have you ever left your house, made plans to go to a somewhere for the soul purpose of getting some play? That was my “intimacy”, the sweetest thing, like a kiss from an angle.

Loe Shimmy plays through my headphones, “If you go give my pussy away, that mean you don’t really love me”. Out of the three keys points I was looking for; I could only attain 2. Aw and intimacy. When you lust over someone that brings you to aw it fogs your mind, you feel good in the morning. But She’s not yours. If she gives it out to another man whether you know it or not, she doesn’t really love you.

Do I feel sad because I’m truly sad, or have I not yet found what makes me happy? To put it to actual fact I don’t feel sad, nor am I depressed, feel down all the time. It comes in bursts and waves. I’m content majority of the time, which doesn’t make me proud to say. Content. Not happy or vibrant if we want to push it to that extent? No, I feel content. I have nothing to be upset about. Besides money. But that’s just a material, others might say a glorious resource. However, I don’t value it like that. Money is what it is, money. It only becomes something important once we put a value to it, then it becomes a representative. Like a president.

I feel content with my life as nothing is bad enough to complain about, a good life is a good life, simple as that. It’s normal to feel sad at times but if sadness is present, greater than happiness, is that life something to be content with? See sadness is a tricky thing, everyone feels sad, but what is the feeling of being sad? If I made it a colour, I’d describe it to look green with a splash of purple and a yellow outline. If I were to make it a texture, it would be scaley, rough with some hairs in between the missing or departed scales. As if you were to brush your hand over a partially hairy war-torn alligator. I describe it as such due to the feeling being so deeply complex. At times it may feel rough, but once you take a deeper look into this beast, its beautiful. With each wave of this damper emotion it presents life, a curation of your experiences if you will. The past, the present and the future; it’s bound by nothing; people, places, meaning or not. It’s the world’s most complex feeling. You can’t describe it; almost as if someone asked you why your personal outlet is your outlet.

Have you ever looked at someone and saw the life if their eyes? I think the most beautiful people have this characteristic. It has no colour, no blue, brown, green or amber. Someone so full of life that you can see it oozing out of them. My mother has that sometimes. She used to have it a lot but life can change which I’m aware of. I see this trait more in women than men. It’s the same as a scout viewing potential in an athlete. These people are the most beautiful, it seems as if they are happy beyond comprehension, and from my experience this is true. I love a woman with big brown eyes full of life, in a way I think that’s why She was so amazing to me. Coming over to her house greeted by a brown luscious sea of life, one of the best memories I adore. I saw this in my friends when we were younger, innocent and full of wonder. As I learnt more about them and we grew up each light one after the other slowly started to dim.

Knowing these people has been amazing they’re really my family. I felt more like a sibling to them then I have with my own, received more advice than my parents, more care and worry than I’ve gotten from my grandparents. They are my family. Getting to know them really opens your eyes to what other families look like and I’ve concluded that your real family brings that bliss of life, that spark in your eyes. The worse of a family life one has the earlier that light went out and the ones with better ones stayed bright. I wonder if I ever had that light or if it would ever come back. My father was inconsistent in my life until the last 3 years moving state to state for work living hours away to put money on the table, which I can value. But I don’t value money that highly.

If he were more present in my childhood maybe I’d see that spark in my own eye. At least for longer than I did. My sister had mental health issues. On the boarder of suicide, my mother was imposed to pay her a lot of attention, watching her child go through such a dark angst. I understand now why she had to do that. It took that attention away from me. A lot of nights I was isolated without help, I loved my mother she was my rock, my childhood, so I cared for her dearly. But I knew she was tired, I never told her my problems because I didn’t want to add onto the stress she already was under, nor did I want to take that attention away from my sister. So, what does a kid without a solid foundation of immediate family do? Go to cousins? Uncles, aunties? Grandparents? I was unable to do that as they lived in other states or countries.’’

When you’re young you don’t feel what you’re genuinely feeling until you reflect on it, and in hindsight it felt like I had to grow up a lot earlier than I should’ve. Children don’t see the impacts on this lifestyle until they’re grown. I crave attention, an outlet to speak to. Now that I’m an adult the foundation that a family is I’m knowledgeable about, I want to connect with the people I’ve grown up with, I just don’t have the tools of wisdom to do that.

It feels uncanny to talk about my feelings or issues with them, though I’ve tried and received low levelled advice. The more withdrawn I keep my emotions, ideas or anything that forces me to be open about who I am makes me fit in. maybe they had similar problems growing up, I wouldn’t know. My father doesn’t talk, ever, he hasn’t even told my mum about his fucked-up life, kicking out his alcoholic father when he was sixteen is as much as I know about him. Neither does my mum tell me her pains in life.

I’m from a broken home made up of broken people who have made our house an environment that will eventually break you, whether that be heart, soul or mind. When they aren’t talking about what’s wrong in their life they’re judging each other, which is probably another reason to why I don’t share who I am to them. I don’t want to be broke down for what I love or aspire for. A quiet society built on people who don’t talk. That’s why I’m so envious towards loud households. But that’s life a family is something you can’t change, it’s something you mold, and like a good cologne after you spray it, time is a virtue that’s so important, it’s so much stronger once it’s first put on.

I love making people laugh, something about creating a joy in someone, a smile in their hearts, the best is when they can’t control it, that gut wrenching exhaust of happiness. I was at university today and felt like a comedia, making my friends laugh time after time. BAM BAM. In a subject that’s so easy you can practically complete it deaf and blind.

Laughter must be one of the key foundations of friendship, at least in men. How many of you love someone because how hard they make you laugh? All the people I keep close in my circle are funny. But it’s the funniest people that have the most demons; lust, selfishness, envy and many more issues the mind can’t capture. My Mate for example, his parents are divorced and live together to support their family and create a “stable home”; fighting constantly, becoming sometimes violent. One of the darkest things he told me was the time He and his father fought. The reason I call it dark was due to it being over his mother, His dad had hit her, resulting in a verbal argument, progressing to become physical. He didn’t know how to feel about the situation, did he do the right thing? Were his actions granted? He is still his father; no?

Many of us today find ourselves in predicaments like such more than you would imagine. I myself and many people I call dear to me have gone through similar situations. “You handle your side, I handle mine, that’s how we run the city”, Kodack black. Two men, one family, why is there one leader? Is that the pack or tribe mentality engrained in our systems? The man of the house gets tested by the other, no matter the outcome it’ll never be positive. So why do we see this dynamic so often? My conclusion is when we take and take and take so much shit, there becomes a point where there’s nowhere to store it, so we snap, lash out, put all the problems we’ve kept in and shoved to the side, back onto the people who handed it to us. Physically, verbally or mentally, we become something we despise, we turn into the people we hate the most. Them.

I don’t tolerate sitting there and taking everything, however learning how to ignore and differ issues away from yourself is important but should it be minimised, respect must be involved. If you are respected situations as such would be less likely to occur. How do we become respected? Something I don’t know, at least at this point in my life. I want to be respected, tolerating so much disrespect in my life. Teachers, family, coaches even friends; whomever you interact with, respect is involved. Even the cashier at the shops, EVERYTHING, involves respect.

Those with the most respect can have others kneeling at their command, bringing me to wonder is respect a way of control? Is there an amount of respect someone has that allows them to control people? You may love a family-owned business owner, but if he commands you to purchase an item he is selling in which you don’t want, are you going to buy it? No. However, when the Pri minister orders for there to be a raise in taxes, snap, these ideologies are in play. I think I’ve lost track of my point, or rather, my question. Does respect bring peace?

I have a lot of questions, thoughts racing around my mind like a thoroughbred running around a racecourse. It’s youth, I’m young, nineteen to be exact. Sometimes I wish I was older… so I could talk to myself in the present day. Why? It’s not like I know that I’ll be some bigshot, but I believe that age provides you with the answers that the youth are unaware of.

For example, does a sixteen-year-old know that high school isn’t as important than what educators present it to be? Most likely not. Answers are what makes life less stressful, put it like this, completing a test that’s worth eighty percent of your grade is stressful, now let’s say I gave you an answer sheet. would you still be stressed?

‘Dear Mama’ – tupac, this song spoke to me, made me value my mother more than I’d ever know, he speaks about how he take his own problems out on his mum and even though he did so he values his mother so much, as she never treated him badly, “I reminisce on the stress I caused, it was hell”. I’ve done this too much I’m life, blaming my parents for issues they didn’t instil in me, but I conclude, how fucked up I am is because of how I was raised, in term putting them to be the ones to blame.

“Ain’t a woman alive that could take my mama’s place”, “Because when I was low you was there for me and never left me alone because you cared for me” Our mothers love us totally and completely.
Unconditional love is what many of us look for, a partner who’s eyes never leave you, seeks the best for you in any situation, a partner who doesn’t care what you went through, acknowledges the adversity you’ve compelled with but cares so deeply for you it never mattered anyway. Our mothers are the ones that truly love us like this. Isn’t it strange? No one else in your life will ever love you without an incentive to, is this the beauty of motherly love or the curse of cupids arrow?

“Ain’t nobody tell us it was fair, no love from my daddy because the coward wasn’t there”, my father was missing in so many parts of my life, that’s where my respect for him started to deplete. Love is only felt when the person is active in your life, no one has ever felt passive love. Being present is so incoherent to some people, do you respect a random brick layer in Peurto Rico? I don’t think so, and that’s why being present and active in someone’s life is so imperial, especially in the eye of a child.

“They say I’m wrong and I’m heartless, but all along I was looking for a father, who was gone”, my past therapist would blame my father for the way I am and the actions in which pursue. Disrespectful, argumentative and selfish are some of the words that people in my past have crowned me with, I admit am I the best person in the world? No, not at all or by a mile, I’m still trying to figure mt shit out, but do I mean well? Absolutely, I talk recklessly, loose lipped, no filter some may say and I’d have to agree with, I don’t think before I speak, and it has gotten me in countless problems in my life. Ignorance, unable to change, some may deem it, I call it innocence, nobody was there to tell me off when I was talking out of line. Nobody was there to tell me how to act in different scenarios. So can you blame me for being so silly with my word choices? So resistant to being able to change how I act upon my vocabulary?

“There’s no way I can pay you back, but my plan is to show you that I understand, you are appreciated”, I want to repay my mother for so much, I can’t put it into words how much she did for me growing up, sacrificed just so I could have a “normal” childhood, even though it was a good childhood, it was far from normal. She tried her best, and that’s what mattered, effort, people make the extra effort for those they love, and to give all I can back to repay her, knowing it’s impossible, I want to show her my appreciation and understanding in what I had and have now. An amazing woman in my life. Music is my unconditional love I found in life, the anchor that’ll never let the ship of life float away, Tupac was captain, my senior, my father figure at times. Not through physical presence, but through the presence of word.

August

The other day my mother came to me into my room, she was acting peculiar in the moment. As I’m sat in my room, airpods in, listening to the soothing sound of music, I notice my door cracked open, someone peeking inside. “Hello?” I say, “How odd is that? She’s completely flipped.” Talking about my sister who Her and I have been arguing since we were both left to attend and keep the house running whilst our parents were out of town, she had been completely bipolar during this time. Going to extents, exaggerating reality and complaining to my mother about it, I continue to recall incidents She’s addressed to them and recapping the reality of what it is. My Mother takes my side as she understands how my Sister is. It became apparent in this moment that She had said something drastic to her in which I was about to be informed.

“She sent us a letter, telling us how we are the worst parents in the world” I know we had it tough at times but this was factually wrong, they tried. Mother was more mad than anything, which to my benefit she had come to conspire the situation with me. I say “to my benefit” as my mother’s way of connecting with people was through gossip, she loved it, what woman doesn’t. we talked for a short while about the issue and came to an agreement that She was in the wrong and needs to bring herself back to the “world of realism”, which my father liked to call it.

Moving on from this situation, come to the present day, I had been out at the gym and to my surprise, what was my mum doing on the phone with my grandma? Gossiping about my sister. I know I shouldn’t have been listening to what was being said, however it becomes extremely difficult when she talks as loud as an elephant trumpeting. I overheard them discussing the ways in which She was raised addressing why they did what they did for us growing up, stating “I’m at a point where I want to say, then move out and figure it out”, which is scary to hear, due to me knowing I was once in the same situation, I was sixteen however, so that narrative wasn’t allowed, at least to their moral extent. Kicking out your child “from the nest” is an odd topic, your seed, the one you’ve raised and gave life to has put themselves and you in such a predicament that you come to the sum of forcing them out the place they’ve called home for x number of years.

Not to mention the emotional aspects of it, but one day they must spread their wings and fly out of the birdhouse, exit the gate attached to the picket fence in which they spent every night at, it’s supposed to hurt. You have to let go of the hand most parents call “my baby”, so they can flourish and sprout amazing things, and hopefully have that same cycle occur to them.

I never liked gossip, or to rephrase it better, I never liked being the topic of discussion for gossip. Staying away from drama was something I excelled at but that fear brought me to stray away from letting people know me and who I am as a man and a human being, although I loved the chance to connect with my mother, I wish it wouldn’t be in the demise of others especially not my sister.

It’s concerning how She’s turned into such a whirlwind of opinions, the ability to speak and communicate is a blessing most people forget, though people take advantage of it to hurt and spite others, even those who gave everything to you, every opportunity, every aspiration, every wish. For me to connect with two people I want in my life, requiring me to have to take advantage of that blessing I was given shouldn’t be an option I must take. People are complicated and differ, no ones the same but is it worth going against your values and morals to have something you want?

I met someone, this girl is great, funny, caring, has morals, She’s even is into the gym. I met up with her today, we only did something simple, but it was good, she loved it and so did I. However, my mind is telling me to calm down, like something inside of me just knows I’m just not ready for a relationship. Or am I scared to let someone in again? The person telling me to hold back could be my heart, torn from the last one I trusted, a wound that’s not healed yet.

How did She do it so fast? My Ex has already gotten a new boyfriend, about a month ago is when I found out, I had no feelings toward it as she was not mine though the thought of her moving on faster than I did makes me feel as if she didn’t even care at all, creating this illusion in my head that the next one won’t truly love me as I did Her, damaged goods is the what they call it.

Giving myself props to myself, I am capable of loving, feeling love and being a great partner, I don’t know if I’m ready yet, do I stay and keep whatever it is with this new girl going until I’m prepared for the battlefield of love or do I tell Her how I’m feeling? I don’t want to hurt Her but I don’t want to spoil this opportunity. Maybe I’m paranoid, maybe I’m not ready, maybe I’m not good enough, maybe she won’t love me, maybe it’ll end badly. The endless options a woman presents a man with drives him crazy, even more so one without a clue in the world about what he really wants.

While I listen to Drake’s song ‘redemption’ I find comfort in the verses, as if he’s laying down every piece of what I’m thinking right in front of me, “I’m not unrealistic with none of my women, I tell them if they ain’t with it, then let’s just forget it, relationships slowin’ me down, they slow down the vision, guess I’m not in the position to deal with commitment, certain people need to tell me they’re proud of me, that mean a lot to me, not having closure, it take a lot out of me”, I struggle with intimacy, not the physical kind, the mental side of the spectrum.

Trauma: a deep emotional or physical hurt that happens when a scary or painful event overpowers your mind and body. Heartbreak? Distrust? Ego? Which one is it? The voids left unfilled in my soul, in my mind, in my heart, they lead me to act the way I do. I know that’s why I smoke so much, to deal with the pain, the pain of confusion.

(NBAYoungBoy) “I’m scarred, this ain’t no facades, I don’t really like me, I don’t know who I could run to, I don’t know where I could run and hide”, who do I talk to about this pain? no one in this life could explain to me why I’m feeling the way I do, it doesn’t matter where I can go to find these answers, where can I hide from this pain? The answer is nowhere, some things in life you will deal with alone but that’s completely fine, the days that you feel your lowest or lost the most are the days you will appreciate the most, you’re the only one that can save you, if not you’ll be the reason why you drowned. I know I’ll swim myself out of this whirlpool.

What do I need to do? What is my plan? There is no plan and I don’t know what I need to do to escape this treacherous ocean, as if Piciden has swept me off my feet and will let me go once I’m ready. Keep moving and pushing through the pain, consistency is key but that could be the reason you’re still where you are, I’ll take any chance I can to put myself in a better place away from this cage I’ve put myself in. I’ll be optimistic, this girl might be worth it, She has the cutest smile, sharp bangs, paired with beautiful eyes, my mind is trying to tell me I can do better but looks don’t last forever, personality is timeless.

The perks of silence. surrounding family, I stay quiet, not because I’ll be scorned for what I say, because I have nothing to talk about. My days are simple, consistent and to me they aren’t worth mentioning, though I feel as if most people have the same structured days every week, I view mine less important since no improvements are involved.

The only real times I’ve talked around my family are in serious moments, the fights, the sorrow, the weak moments in which every family must come to terms with and address to move forward. However, my voice is becoming rough and tired of the gloomy atmosphere my family has put itself in, its craving that sweet medicine of happiness and joy to sooth the pain, arguments aren’t worth fighting for, I’ve seen them play out the same, deflecting the drunken insults of my father has become a skill for me.

I can’t put my finger on why I get targeted by him, though I feel his pain using his words, taking out his insecurities and problems on me, I stay calm and utilise silence, the less words I say the less he’ll want to talk about me. A fathers love is something I’ve had but have never seen through action, I could tell he saw himself in me, so taking out his pride an anger on the one who reminds you of everything that you are and aren’t makes him feel better. I stay quiet. His torment doesn’t affect me anymore, it’s as if I’ve gotten so used to it that I know exactly how to deal with it.

Luther Vandrose tells me that “A house is not a home when the two of us are far apart, and one of us has a broken heart”, my house has never felt like a home, we have people inside of it, a house full of broken people their minds could never stay at home, it reminds them of the hurt we’ve put each other through. Once someone takes that oath of silence, their words rise in power, it had arisen that my voice had great power, I talked to my mother and sister about the issues they’ve been having between the two of them (my mother respected my voice more than my sister), I advised them that when they talk tonight, be respectful, choose your words wisely and try to understand each other’s actions. I overheard the whole conversation.

She blamed me for everything, my sister tried to blame ME, of all people as an excuse to Her outlandish ways being valid. I was shocked, I even had warned Her that my parents have been taking this problem seriously and hinted in there potentially having big consequences occur. That’s what families for, looking out for each other, no? As a brother, I try to play my role, supportive and playful.

Was warning Her wrong? If I knew this was how She would go about it, should have I stayed quiet? Even though our family has a dynamic not like any I’m aware of, I presumed that we are still family, that means doing what we think is right for each other even if it can be annoying or can hurt yourself and them, at the end of the day you only get one family so you must value it at face value. Is it just an old traditional way of thinking now? Has the value of family been lost?

As I was overhearing their conversation continue, my parents were backing me up, saying “he’s not wrong”, “why are you making it such a big deal”, “you grossly overexaggerated”, in relation to the big argument I had between Her, it was over me eating three of her cup-sized pancakes, it’s not as if I left her none, I don’t understand how someone blows up over something so minuet, She went as far as waking me up for the sole purpose to scream and tell me off demanding I pay her money for what I’d done. My parents realise the value of family, neither of them had strong family’s, in fact it was as corrupt as mine seems to be, all they wanted was a loving, happy family. I’m disappointed to see us act the way we do, do we hate each other?

They say, for things to get better you must take that first step and start to try to make things work, I feel as if this law is impossible, sounding so incredibly sinical we’ve tried countless times to have a “good family”, what I’ve came to observe is that some families will never have that. A troubled father without the ability to express emotions, a sister that’s self-absorbed and unforgiving, a mother so stressed she has no time to be herself again and a son, lost in his own mind, observing all the evil that clouds his mind, aware of reality though too young to know what to do about it. Broken homes can still be a broken home with everyone inside residing in the same house, broken people make up a broken home, with so many missing pieces to a puzzle it will never be whole.

I know I didn’t want to speak on religion; I’ll try my best to stay true to that, I want to talk about why I am religious, why I believe the word of the bible though I don’t abide by it strictly. I’m Anglican, I started my journey later in my life, I used to love going to church when I was young but throughout my life my parents stopped believing, my sister never did, so it was new to me.

I still don’t exactly understand what the difference between Christian and Anglican is, I think Anglican’s believe in God more than Jesus. I got into my religion as I was having issues with my family at sixteen, a kid who’s in a dark place who’s only advisors have become his rivals, I chose faith. It built comfort, a child fearful of his future needs someone to talk to, about his problems, his curiosity and his achievements, if his guardians aren’t on the table to do so, then who is? I talked every day to Him, prayed, even though I had no idea how to I’d seen enough television to have a basic context on how to, it made me feel as if I wasn’t alone, I rode my bike to the bookstore and bought a bible, I tried to read it but I was never an engaged reader.

I learnt more about what faith has brought to so many people I was overwhelmed with positive outcomes ahead of me. He answered so many of my prayers, I’m ashamed of how I am now, guilt fills me on how I sin in the present day, I follow his word as best as my discipline allows me to resist the sweet temptations in life. He gave me so much, He got me through my darkest of days, and this is how I repay Him, as fast as He can give He can take it all back and more just as fast. Maybe that’s why I’m in the position I’m in now. I’m sorry Lord.

Wisdom of religion is so powerful, yes there are some skewed views, however it teaches a person how to treat others, how to act and be a good human, to me that’s the most important thing in life. If we all treated each person we’ve come across so politely maybe the world wouldn’t be full of hatred and pain. I don’t strictly abide by the rules of the bible due to my knowledge that I’m still human, we can’t always control our words, emotions and actions, that’s just life.

No one will ever be perfect, no one will ever be flawless, no one will never sin, our flaws are what makes us who we are and as much as we may want to change them or mend our insecurities, we remove that blessing we’ve been given. As much as you might want to disagree, what’s wrong with you, me or anyone is the reason we act how we do, the blessing of height, a man who is six-foot-five will nine times out of ten attract more attention and women than a man who is five-foot-three, so you may change your personality, your demeanour, who you are, these self-called curses make you yourself.

Whether you deem it to be compensation or something completely different, you cannot avoid the fact that it is one amongst many answers to what makes you who you are, and you know where I learnt that, the bible. “for Christ’s sake, I delight in weakness, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”.

I want to share some light, and no, I’m not talking about a reasoning to why you should read this on your Kindle, laptop, or phone. I want to share the positives in my life; although, in my eyes, there are very few of them, I still encourage myself that no matter what you, myself, or anyone is going through, there are always positives in every story.

For example, my family. Though we argue, bicker, and put each other in endless amounts of mental pain, you will never eat at the dinner table with us without laughing. My father is my favourite. The little dirty, out-of-context remarks he makes truly keeps a smile on my face, even looking at me with the face someone makes holding back laughter when my mother or sister say remarks which could be drawn out of context and twisted into a sexual saying or phrase.
My mother comes next. As sweet as she is, she’s just as slow to get anything—a joke, a riddle, or even having to explain a part of a story that she’s heard a million times. I guess you could say we’re guilty of katagelasticism; however, we were never laughing at her. We were cracking up about the situation.

Lastly, my sister. See, the funny thing about my sister is that, no, I wouldn’t label her as funny, but she brings moments that make us laugh in shock; the same sort of chuckle you have when someone says something so extreme you have to laugh about it. Whether it be going too far into a joke or doubling down on banter myself or my father had started, including her as the main topic, I still laugh. Maybe the pain we’ve brought to each other is the reason why we become so funny around other people. They do say the happiest or funniest people you know are typically the saddest ones.

Women is a difficult topic for me, and no, I’m not talking about women in a general sense. I’m talking about women in a manner of speaking towards romance. I’ve always been good with women. At some instances, those around me might have said I was, and am, able to “pull any girl.” It drove up my ego, and yes, many women throughout my life whom I had known did view me in an intimate light. However, as oblivious as I am, my confidence was never on par with the attention I was getting.

I receive a good amount of female attention—not to sound full of myself—but it’s the truth. Recently, it’s been a lot more than I’m used to, it could be because I go out a lot more than I used to. Due to me feeling down and lost, attention from the opposite sex is nothing I can feel sad about. With the potential to sleep with multiple girls, this doesn’t bring me joy; it just means I’m attractive. As much as I enjoy sex, a partner is what I’ve always valued above anything sexual. That is the truth to why I said women is a difficult topic. They never want to date me. Maybe it’s youth, the way of the raging party and hookup culture many young people go through. I’ve partaken in the culture more than I’d like to admit; still, my values remain the same.

I love him. I’ll call him V. He and I have grown up so differently, with different cultures and different parenting methods; though the differences are evident, our issues are so similar: a drunken father, a mother full of concern, and an aggressive sister. Yesterday, I went to the cinemas with him.

The thing I love about hanging out with V is that we always have one of those deep talks at the end of the meet up; a heart to heart. It mostly consists of our worries, problems, and perspectives on life.

I told him about the recent events occurring in my family, and he told me his. “I like having these talks with you, I can relate to it, it makes me feel like I’m not alone.” These words mean so much to me, the brotherly love I never had, a deep connection between two friends, a bond that’ll never be lost or forgotten.

People like V are rare. They care about you without pretending, listen without judgement, and build a friendship most spend their whole lives looking for. I never really had anyone like that; the love I gave was never reciprocated.

Is that why the breakup hurt so much?

If I lost V, I wouldn’t know where to go, who to run to, and tell my darkest thoughts and secrets. It feels as if he is the only person I have; I know I’m the only person he has, too.

He creates a sense of comfort I could only find through music.

Have you ever had that? Do many people have this? Someone they can talk to without judgement, without being undermined, without having to worry if it were the right choice to tell them what they did or have done? I never have to worry about being kicked while I’m down when we talk.

That’s why aging is scary; we ask ourselves so many questions that can only be answered given time.

The future is scary; not due to the responsibilities that come forth with age, but because it’s uncertain. We have no influence on what may happen. Thirty years from now, who will I be? A successful man living in a material world? A poor man who works every day for scraps?

The truth is I don’t know who I will be; I barely know who I am.

I knew they had been having issues, though in the past they always prevailed, so it didn’t cross my mind anything would come of it. I could tell He wasn’t dealing with it well; since He typically asks to see me when He’s in his head a lot.

F is the type of man who doesn’t handle emotions well, always yelling at referees playing basketball, closed off to new people, and can’t express his emotions openly, that is aside from gratitude.

All I could do was provide support and a person to talk to if needed. I expressed that I could relate to the situation, based on how my relationship ended. Something absent to the resources I was provided. “Yeah lad, all good, thanks dude,” was the response shared.

As much as I want to help, giving space and letting people process the predicaments in which they are placed in is the best option. Though I do want to know what happened and the ways the event unfolded; resisting that person inside me eager to find out, smashing a button labelled “ask,” is required.

Caring for others is both a gift and a curse; as much as you want to do everything in your power to help them, you must be smart about it. If my intent was to distract them and cheer them up, would taking them out to drink be a good choice?

I believe that sitting in the pot of life, surrounded by all the negative issues you deal with, letting it simmer, is most suitable for the processing stage of grief. It allows one to fully feel the issue, understand the severity of it, and realise what they had is now no longer here. However, contradicting this point, floating in the saucepan for too long, allowing the water to rise and boil, will consume your life.

As humans, we are extremely complex; dealing with our issues in distinct ways, ways that differ from person to person. Though this is true, this is also why wisdom and advice is crucial; how will you know what works best for you if you never try what’s worked for others?

Urges to obtain what we’ve fantasised about since young; sex, money, fame. These would be some of the broader ideas which many of us have fantasised about. Those who gain a pathway to them often pig out on it; that’s why being humble is seen as a virtue. The stoic man with all the above can essentially have whatever he wants, right? Discipline stops him, bringing me back to the two choices you can make when faced with temptation: fall victim or stay disciplined?

The temptation is present when there’s nothing holding us back from it. That’s why we see so many celebrities purchasing supercars, eating at the most expensive restaurants, and having flashy clothes. (Lil Baby: “I try not to wear nothing twice.”) As there’s no financial burden, what stops them from spending half a million dollars on a car that sits in the garage for years on end, or clothes they’ll never wear again? What stops a man from having sex every day if it’s at his disposal? What stops someone with all the power of fame from using it to hurt people?

As a man with little to no money, locally known, and only having had roughly four sexual partners, I come to find that my voice is powerless within the conversation. Though the topic is so complex, twisted, and hard to differentiate, we all deal with temptation birthed through our fantasies, separated by the opportunities given. Still wondering, what makes it tempting?

Over my life, though still young, I’ve dealt with temptation more than I’m proud to say. The reason I say that is because I fall victim, something I want to improve on and know how to, but I just seem to go back on my word time after time. Praying to the Lord to help me with this issue, I remind myself of a story called ‘The Boy Who Cried Wolf’. Maybe this is why the topic comes into my mind so much.