Sometimes 

Sometimes when you are mentally unwell life can seem useless. The perception of you being a burden or a bore.

At the moment, I cannot shake of this feeling, so instead of bending my friends ears I am turning to my writing.

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From the age of 14 Kenneth Williams kept a diary for much of his life. It is an impressive collection that the British Library have rececently acquired and testament to the great man of comedy. But the diaries were his confessional. His ‘other half’, the one you ‘sound off to and the person you usually come home to when your pissed and need to talk.

For many years I have done the same. I live on my own and I often need someone to chat and the diaries over the years also have become my companion. The writing I do for this blog is certainly censored and a diary is true reflection of ones state and feelings.

I was thinking back at a time when I didn’t seem to have a care in the world and the person that I was when I was in my 20s is not the person I am now. The depression came a few years after my father passed away, and it hasn’t left me since. So my outlook on life has changed dramatically. I don’t suffer fools gladly (others might disagree) and I don’t spend time, as I should, doing things I actually enjoy.

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