Wednesday afternoon – home alone and with nothing to do. I had fiddled around with some work stuff, browsed various articles and scrolled through endless videos on YouTube while the day leaked past my window like a grey, damp dishcloth. Nothing held my attention so off I went to the bedroom and browsed for some porn, thinking that at least a wank might kill a couple of hours.
I sat there, watching video after video with my cock in hand and nothing really happened. My body was apparently ready, but my brain wasn’t. It didn’t drift off to other topics or get lost down the wormhole of imagined conversations, it simply blanked out. The usual stimulus of hot moaning and raw fucking wasn’t going any further than my eyes, my mind was completely detached and I sat there, watching hot amateur couples getting it on with as much excitement as if I were watching a documentary about 7 million different types of dust.
Scrolling through this rusty, cranky little blog the other week, I noticed a few little posts I was kinda proud of. It’s not a feeling I’m very familiar with so it struck me with a rather nice, warm spank. There were a couple of others which I felt a little embarrassed about, but that’s a standard response for me so it’s no biggie, and there were some I had forgotten about entirely.
It was weird. I tend to remember pretty much everything I’ve done with clarity (it probably explains why my mental health is so fucked) but to have forgotten not just the blog posts but the entire experience as well? That’s very strange. Had I been neuralised by the Men In Black? Well no, I had a breakdown, but even so, it was an odd sensation.
Apologies in advance – this will be a rather depressing post about depression.
Trigger Warning: Suicide, Depression, Self Harm. Please do not read if you feel vulnerable to these topics – from one sufferer, to another. Peace and love, Barnum x
It has been nearly a year since my breakdown. Not a meltdown – the last of which happened pretty much live on Twitter two years ago (much to my shame) – but a full on breakdown.
Meltdowns are moments when my brain warps and twists itself into strange, new shapes. Prompted by a negative event, it’s as if the entire organic structure of my brain becomes a writhing animal inside my skull, mangling itself up every few seconds and producing strange new thoughts. I flare up in anger, I drop down into depression. I lash out at others using words, and I lash out at myself using blades. It’s a hurricane in my head which churns and roars with thunder, blocking out all logical thought processes.
Well, here I am again. Feels like I’m standing on a darkened stage with a spotlight beaming on me while I talk to the unknown. I might get boo-ed, or have rotten fruit thrown at me, but for now I shall grip my notes tightly, say my piece and then quietly exit (although hopefully not pursued by a bear).
I promised this to someone a while ago and it’s taken me about 3 months (and 6 attempts) to get there. I run out of breath a few times and sound like a twat, but anyway – here’s my shoddy version of Under The Sea. Cover your ear drums.