Drifting in and out of consciousness, my mind is taking over. I’m remembering the person you used to be, The best days The way your smile had truth behind it, and your voice changed when you whispered those three words. My mind blacks out, just as the sky darkened, ending those days A new morning comes, Different times, different memories I’m conscious again I’m here, though I’m not you’re speaking such pretty words but in moments of sanity, I know every sugar coated word escaping those faultless lips is a contradiction, a struggle, a lie of who you were. Everything you said made sense Within the fissures and neurons of my head, there was something missing I was doing a jigsaw but I couldn’t distinguish the bigger picture You handed me the missing pieces, allowing me to see with clarity But your answers were fake, and now all I’m left with is misrepresentation and deception. That picture is trapped in my head, truth and fiction interchangeable Things just happened for no reason, and nothing made any sense. so tell me, why is there still something missing?
I’m making a new blog. This isn’t the same anymore. It’s always been a release, an escapism from reality for me, and even though I never include names or dates, I feel like my every move is being watched. It’s become too personal, yeah, you know me, I run when vulnerability enters the game. Somewhere else unknown in the world wide web I’ll exist, anonymous and free.
“It’s all fun and games. Until someone tells a lie.”
Lie to me (Fling) is one of the most interesting, original and beautiful movies I have ever viewed. If you enjoy art house cinema opposed to the normal Hollywood genre, this film is definitely for you. It explores universal issues such as honesty, jealousy, commitment, maturity, understanding and ultimately our capacity for love: depicting the onset of our culture where we are all searching to find an understanding of why we cheat.
In an hour and a half, I was shown how people really are; always wanting more until we have nothing left to want. An attractive young couple. Open-minded. Sexy. Energetic. Provocative. In love. In an open relationship. Stretched to the breaking point when each partner finds themselves falling in love with other people, while still in love with eachother.
“It’s supposed to be me and you against the world, Sam, what happened?”
Why can people relate to your writing but not relate to you?
Isn’t there a lie somewhere along the way? No, it’s misinterpretation. I write because the scattered thoughts in my head come together through paper and pen. I don’t even understand how I feel myself, until the sentences begin forming outside my own mind.
“People always say that, when you love someone, nothing in the world matters. But that’s not true, is it? You know, and I know, that when you love someone, everything in the world matters a little bit more.”—
The privacy of a depressed person is not a dignity, it is a prison.
Depression is a disease of loneliness I have suffered for ten years, the past three of those medicated. It’s difficult to explain. Especially when pressed with questions why, when outside life appears so “normal” to everyone around me. There are no fevers, no rashes, no blood tests to send people scurrying in concern. Just the slow erosion of the self, as insidious as any cancer. And like cancer, is it essentially a solitary experience. A room in hell with only my name on the door.
Some days I feel sad without knowing why. Somewhere along an incredible night out, the darkness overwhelms me and I find myself lost… in my own head. It feels like I’ve lost something very precious, but forgot what it was, like I miss someone I’ve never even met. There’s something missing and I can’t stop my mind from running a hundred miles a minute.
I’m so tired but I can’t sleep, I can’t stop what I feel inside, and then begin the questions from those around me, “Jess, you’ve gone all quiet, what’s wrong?” And the questions begin to form in my own head amongst all the chaos, circling round and round, I think to myself “What the fuck is wrong with you, can’t you control your own thoughts?” I’m zoning out more and more as the questions and concerned faces appear before me every time I open my eyes. I’m trying to get rid of this, snap myself back into reality, but I’m so lost now, I don’t know what reality is.
It’s heartbreaking to give words to your pain only to find that pain unaffected by articulation. Maybe that’s why I write so much. I’m so well grounded, I protect myself from anyone wanting me to let them in; and the sad irony is that I’m not the one who ends up unaffected. It’s a betrayal – the betrayal inherent in arts and philosopher’s clear description of what they cannot improve. This disease state in my unconscious thoughts; I begin playing games with myself until I’m stuck in stale mate. I can’t move, I can’t think, I can’t rid this from me.
Psychoanalysis can look to early experiences and trauma; social theory can pin things on an emotional style, or on my unknown fears. Behaviorists can blame the way I process my experiences, or the stories I tell himself. Neurobiologists can comment on the rate at which serotonin is taken up in my brain. All you can say for sure is that the clues I give of being depressed look smaller to you than the depression they marked turned out to be.
It’s been since I packed my bags and left. When I went, there was no guarantee I’d even come back. Take life as it comes. I’d lost my job the week before, the only future I was looking to was the one I’d chosen on the other side of the world.
Now, here we are. I’ve got my job back, I’ve got an amazing boyfriend, yes, my first, and I’ve learnt there’s a fine line between giving up and letting go.
Giving up is sacrificing what was rightfully yours. Letting go is forgetting what never was.
London → Partied in Soho, the gay district Amsterdam → Went upstage at a sex show → Broke the law Berlin → Drunk several 1 litre beer stints Prague → Decided to go on a pub crawl at the last minute, and bumped into one of my best friends by complete coincidence Austria → White water rafting Venice → Rode on a gondola Rome → Visited buildings 2000 years old, still standing Switzerland → Climbed to the top of Europe for a snowball fight Paris → Went to a Cabaret Show Athens → Island cruising Greek Islands → Climbed an active volcanic mountain → Rode a donkey
There is no evidence anywhere that you even exist. No evidence of your death, no evidence of your life. Just a tombstone that reads
“May Jesus have Mercy on your soul”
Died in 1905, you were adopted by a family in New South Wales when you were a child, you have no family, yet here you lay, on the other side of the country, creating a mystery.
I long time ago, I was friends with a carefree and stimulating girl. She had some terrible things happen to her in her past, and unfortunately, the closer we became, the more I learnt how much this haunted her, and evidently, defined her as a person. Her escape was through drugs – hallucinogens, depressants, stimulants – you name it, she did it. She was older than me, at the age I was, she had a great influence on me. I guess I was always going to grow into this life; she was just a catalyst.
I was fifteen the first time she took me to see you. I don’t know if it was the influence of drugs, I guess I never will, but something about being with you always gave me comfort; I felt safe with you, like you were my guardian angel. She felt the same way.There were mornings after the night before, she would wake up in the graveyard, having made her way to you sometime in the midst of the night. You would talk to her, protect her, help her.
Although me and this friend no longer see each other, I still go and visit you now and then. I’m aware how mental this sounds – going to a graveyard alone at night and placing flowers next to someone who perished over 100 years ago, someone you don’t even know. You know that I don’t care though. Sometimes there are flowers there, and I know she’s never far away.
Something about you fascinates me. Who were you? What did you do that was so bad, terrible enough to pray for Jesus to have mercy on you? Where are your family? Why are you buried here, on the other side of Australia? If we had met in a different time, would we know each other? Would we be friends? Could I have helped you?
I guess there are some things in life we will never really know, or grasp an understanding of. You are no exception. Maybe some day I’ll meet you in heaven. Until that day, the visits will do me justice. Yours truely,
I thank God every chance I have that you are in my life.
To my favourite person in the whole world, Ian Cleverley, my father.
Five years ago there was a 50% chance you wouldn’t be alive in a year’s time. In 2005 you were diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. This is a cancer of the lymphatic system, in which lymphocytes become abnormal - growing and multiplying uncontrollably, not dying as they become old - therefore the immune system becomes less able to fight infection. This type of cancer can spread to almost any part of the body, including the liver, spleen and bone marrow. I watched you as you underwent chemotherapy, as you lost your hair, your strength, your spark. You lost it all, everything, except your passion for life.
Never in this time did I let you see how much this affected me. I was terrified to lose you, I cried myself to sleep at night on a regular basis, but I never let you see me shed one tear. I had to be strong for you, even if it was only on the outside. You were weak and you were exhausted, but you never once gave up, and you prevailed. Just like you always do. So three years later as you stood before us at my sister’s wedding, not only alive, but healthy, you said something that finally brought me to tears. “One of the distinct thoughts running through my head as I undertook chemotherapy was if I would ever be able to walk my daughters down the aisle.” As I write this now, I am nineteen years old, and I have never had a boyfriend. You, are the reason. They say 9 out of 10 girls marry their fathers. Not literally of course, but someone with very similar personality traits. This was true for my sister, she brought someone truly amazing into our family, and even though I don’t plan on getting married at nineteen like she did, I will too someday. No one I’ve met compares to you.
I have seen nineteen years of your legacy. You have passed through death, sickness, setback after setback, and you have succeed, every time. The amazing thing, is that you were able to get through without ever putting yourself before others. I can only imagine what you have given to people at your work, your friends, even strangers on the street. You go above an beyond to make everyone around you feel special. Maybe I am giving credit to the wrong person. Maybe the credit for your accomplishments should go to your other half. After all, I credit her for so many things in my life. Allow me to give you a few examples. I credit her for my ability to get through everything life throws my way, being there for people in their hour of need, my determination for truth, and most of all, refusing to let what’s happened in the past define me as a person. This brings me to another introduction.
Roslyn Cleverley is my mother. Her childhood consisted of belt buckles and silent tears. I mention this only as a prime example of how people can learn from bad experience, and better the world by changing that, by breaking the cycle. What I am about to say sounds so cliché, but I really don’t care, because cliché’s are usually true and truth is all that matters. There truely is no better mother than you. The nights that you have held me; despite my chronic urges at pushing you away, you have been there for me through everything and you have never left me.
Daddy, you are an inspiration. Your hard work, passion and intelligence has given us so many opportunities. Mummy, you are my hero. Your heart alone has changed me for the better. I hope I grow up to be half the person you are.
To the girl who I’ve never grown apart from even if I never see her,
Dear Avalon my Sunshine,
I still have all the letters you wrote me in a box hidden somewhere. All, except one. This one I keep stuck to my bedroom door, positioned at eye level, so every day, when I leave my chamber, I read your words before I enter the world. I’ve never told you, and I surely never will, but you are what gets me through each day.
Jessica Jayne Cleverley I liked your letter a lot. Occasionally I dig out my letters from you and read them and they always make me smile. Even if you’re writing about sad things, I still smile because I know that you’ll pull through it. No matter what has ever happened to you, you have always come out, and even if it will forever haunt you, you made it Jess. Many people don’t. That’s what I love about you. You’re so strong and you don’t even know it. You’ll probably even say you’re not, but you are. And I know you will get somewhere, believe in yourself. And whatever it is, you’ll work your way right up to the top. And I will help you, I promise.
Remember I’m always here for you to talk to. And if it seems like I don’t care because I don’t come and see what’s up it’s because I don’t want to invade. But I still care, and it’s better if you come to me instead of me harassing you. Don’t forget I will always love you :) Even when you get married the priest will be like “You may kiss the bride” and then I’ll be like “I object! She’s mine!” Haha. And you will get married Jess. You will not be played and used all your life. I’ll see to it personally. One day someone will come, someone who doesn’t live far away, doesn’t have a girlfriend/wife, someone who has decent self esteem, someone who doesn’t just use you for your body. Someone who will love and bond with you mentally, accept you for who you are deep inside, your beautifulness and the physical side of things will just be a bonus. There is someone, and in due course they will be found. But first build a life for yourself Rainbow. Achieve everything you possibly can and don’t ever let anyone tell you different, or take anything away from you. You may have fucked up in some things, but you have your whole life ahead of you. A very long time, time to fix things and learn new things. But now I gotta go. Remember I’m here, and I mean that. I love you Rainbow x ∞
Those last six sentences are what I have lived by since I received this letter two years ago. This letter, those words, Avalon Pickering, you, have changed my life.
So tonight when I finally succumbed to the latest facebook craze of updating my status as: “Like this status and I will tell you something I like about you, dislike about you, and my first impression of you.” as the names started appearing, one stood out to me the most. And as I started forming the words into sentences and emotion it dawned on me just how special you are to me.
So I’m writing yours first, because out of everyone who’s clicked that like button, I like you the most. But that’s not your like. There’s so much about you I like, I’m going to start with dislike. I dislike how good to me you are. Read this next sentence and you’ll understand. You are so good to me, you always have been, and I wish that I could live up to that; your big heart and true genuinity. But I don’t think anyone ever could, because you are one of a kind my Sunshine.
I remember all those years ago I was actually intimidated by you, because even then I could tell you were someone special, even though we didn’t become closer until a couple of years later. I knew you were intelligent, and hilarious by the way you had everyone around you in hysterics, and you had this natural beauty about you, I wish you could see.
There is so much I like about you, but that’s not the word I would use. Admire, respect, love. Amazing is an understatement, I like that you are no one else but simply yourself, amongst dozens of girls trying being everything but who they really are.
Never change Sunshine, you don’t just light up my world, you light up the world of everyone lucky enough to be in your life.
I want you to know that I meant every word, no, I meant more than words could express, I will always be here for you even if we don’t see eachother as often as I would like,
and remember, you’ve changed my life for the better, no one else Av, it was you, and you alone.