A few years back, well quite a few now if I’m completely honest. I found myself in a very dark and lonely place. I was quite literally on the brink, I found myself walking to my favourite park with the simple plan of jumping into the Thames to end it all. Now in truth that jump would probably not have killed me, in fact the worse I could probably expect it is have ended up with a rather nasty infection from having to swim through the dirty water to get out afterwards but I hadn’t really thought about the exact details of what would happen after I jumped. In the movies they jump and that’s it but the intent was there none the less.
I had a little notebook in my pocket and I started to write what I thought would be the final thing I ever wrote, suffice to say that it is not how it turned out. I started simply with “If you are reading this...” and I planned to just write “then you are reading my last thoughts” but I ended up with a notebook full of very random and strange thoughts about how and why the person who was reading it would want to read it in the first place. I tried to justify my reasons for writing it in the place, and then I tried to justify my reasons for doing what I planned to do. I was sat there for hours and by the time the book was full I still hadn’t really said everything i wanted to say I found myself turning back to the first page and reading that first line again “If you are reading this...” and I wondered again who would that person be and what would the things I wrote mean to them. If I read someone’s very last thoughts how would I feel what would I do? I read it then I reread it, I read my own justifications for what I planned to do, I read them and thought about them and I realised I was questioning my own justifications, I wasn’t trying to justify it I was questioning it! I was trying to talk myself out of it! I realised that although I had planned to say goodbye the words had written had not done that they had in effect said hello o me. It was like they were big wake up call to me and me alone my writing was trying to stop me from doing the stupidest thing I could ever do. Now I know that may sound strange and crazy to some but I think perhaps to others who have written things I never planned they may understand what I mean, sometimes the words that come out form themselves. And I know what I wrote that day was certainly not what I had planned to write. After a while I found myself sitting there, in my favourite park in my favourite city looking at one of the most beautiful sunsets I had ever seen and thinking what the hell was I doing? Why was I even considering this? I may not have money I may be single I may have a crappy job but I do have things worth living for...because if nothing else I have a future and I have a story to tell, even if it is only a story I tell myself keep myself going when I’m feeling dark. When I think back at that time now I can only assume I must have looked very strange to anyone who happened to be passing by a young girl sitting there writing in a notebook crying her eyes out for no apparent reason. I guess they could have just assumed I was crazy or something. I often contemplate the ironies of it all, if it were me passing by and seeing someone else doing what I did would I have stopped and asked what’s the matter? I also wonder what I would have done if anyone had stopped and asked me what I was doing and if I needed any help. I suspect I would not have opened up to them the way I did to that little notebook. Looking back it now the things that bothered me so much then are not half as serious as the things that bother me now, but at the time those things felt like they were the be all and end all something we should all remember when others problems may seem smaller than yours. Now I have things now that I would not give up for anything, for one I have a beautiful daughter who would not have existed, which is a thought that saddens me to no end. I have a friend I can turn to for anything even though she lives many miles away and I have a notebook and pen in my bag at all times, just in case.
I often find myself thinking aboutmy favourite books and my favourite movies, about what they have meant to me. How they have affected me, how they have made me who I am. I believe in strong women and women having the ability to cope and fight for things just as well as any man because of stories. I learnt about truth and love and heroes and life through stories. I learnt how different people could see the world differently even when from they come from the same background through stories. I learnt about importance of believing in yourself and listening to your heart through stories. I learnt almost everything I know about life through stories. But I only learnt about myself when I wrote and read back my own story.
If you’re wondering what I did next, well eventually after watching the sunset, I pulled myself together and decided to go see a movie, a good choice of movie considering my frame of mind a beautiful little movie called Manic, but that’s another story.
the moon did shine and the stars did play
the sun came out and they ran away
*I was inspired to write this as soon as I saw WhenIWasLittle's beautiful drawing. It took me a few days to get around to it and I must admit I totally forgot to post it until I...
all through time and space the shooting stars played chase
Chilldren see the world as it should be seen, with beauty in all things and an innocence abound With joy in their heart and a gleam in their eye A world of beauty vision and sound
It is a strange thing to wish to die,
When I tell people my plans they laugh and sigh,
But to cross the veil of the great divide,
I think, would be, one hell of a ride!
It is something...