Not My Final Post - For Now

I made a promise, I stuck to it.

At least 6 months on since I began this blog and now it seems the times they have changed, that space that once wasn’t so occupied became occupied. For anyone that cared, paid attention or even allowed me to help them I am grateful, for now perhaps temporary positive spirits have arisen, progression has happened and as a person I feel more aware and alert of the struggles, along with the inconveniences that we as an imperfect race have to deal with.

Many moments and reactions have made me smile, feeling loved and not alone, even though at first the search for attention was difficult to find but I’ll definitely always rely upon bloggers for the sometimes niche emotions that are felt. Popularity was never something I sought just to voice and hone my feelings into small written chunks has been enough. This isn’t an eternal end to ‘What Are You Looking At?’ And most definitely isn’t the last thing I will ever write or allow to be felt, the message will as always be the same to push aside doubts, negative opinion, radical thoughts and ask them why is it they are staring so plainly into your mind?

I imagine that this post is likely to be for me a dark cloud clearing way for the sun to shine. However, this will not forever be the case and there will come days, moments and minutes where dark castings of thunder fill the sky, desperately trying to remember that the rain can pour coming with it darkness yet there will always be a bright and open one just beyond the skyline.

Now I shall say one final thank you and temporary good-bye.

Before I do, one final bombshell and hopefully listened to thought!

My main focus from now on will be in short ‘Darkspots’ which only leads to now more puzzled looks, an explanation here is needed. Darkspots is purely my creation an offering to the world aiming to tackle mental health issues, approaching wellbeing and attitude from a different angle. Essentially there be will be blog posts on the site for everyone to see with the main event currently being a monthly subscription service. For the cost of just £10 a month subscribers will of course part with their all important payment information… still feel a little guilty about this but it’s the only way we could make it all possible! In return they will receive a box filled with products, tips and thought-provoking items in order to tackle those ‘darkspots’ and mental road blocks. So I guess you could call this a PLUG but there had to be a mention of this in here somewhere, a cold exit is never a positive one.

Check out the site here at – Happy viewing!

Now as an OCD thing I always like to be the one who finishes the conversation, a huge amount of guilt is felt otherwise. Which only means that leaving this behind and finding a definite way to end is even more procrastination filled. Getting myself together and building up the courage to stop was more difficult than planned, filling the hole of writing this every Sunday will for at least a while haunt me.

Farewell and a final thank you 🙂 x

img_0062-4Darkspots Social Media


How Others Mean Everything – HOME

I hate you. I love you. Right now I’m confused, lost and feeling slightly alone even though people surround me, they are my hatred as they play on my every emotion challenging my every belief. War against them yet a truce drawn up between us, together they have housed me, fed me and watched me grow into the person I have become. Contributing their every effort but never being able to tame the mind, to them I am a stray choosing to be alone and reclusive, not part-taking in all the shit they have to offer.

Maybe one. Maybe two. Smiles of greetings home, fake forced happiness and desire to be a part of something larger. Of course I speak of my parents, this household and the choking chains within it. Every cold and solid brick, the very external casing of this building sickening me only when I am with them, I think it’s time to get up and walk away. Debris of the ‘family’ evident in each soft plush rug and every disagreement over the smallest of wrong doings. A slave to their rules and expectations, this ‘home’ has become so frigid and within it I am fragile, it doesn’t know my thoughts and won’t allow my kind here.

Stuck. Stifled. Nouns that may be used to fill this home, all of them placed  and forced into a shape that would allow only a member to feel their joy and embrace their solemn deceit. Perceptions to the outside that all is calm and rosy, happiness fills a home – I am told. These next few years to come will see us break, but then fall back together again.

Maybe one day in the not so near future I can look back at this all and call it a birthplace, a part of me and most definitely a home.







Read Me and Don’t Ignore :'(

Facebook algorithms trying to pick up on harmful depressing habits, fake disconnected messages from ‘friends’ asking if you’re OK only to never be truly acknowledged are all well and rosy but where’s the feeling, the real immersed experience and raw emotion? Someone who actually and yes I mean actually cares where are they at? Because right now all I want to do is screw up my duvet cover, cover my face and scream with every last vocal cord inside me.

Loneliness and maintaining friendships or even finding friends for that matter are so hard to come by it seems that if I actually went through my Facebook account and deleted all of the people I haven’t spoken to in the last 6 months there would be about exactly 0 shown next to the little ‘friends’ icon. Now yes I guess this is a cry for help because every single person who suffers the same fate knows exactly how this feels, not having really anyone to turn to, having family think you’re suffering and being portrayed by every other soul as weak or told to just ‘harden up a bit’.

How about, no?

Actually that’s not a question it should be a statement. How about, no!

Individuals may argue that we live in a feminine world where emotions, fashion, looks and mannerisms are becoming too dominant but I for one completely and truly disagree. After leaving education where your mind and body is surrounded by others non-stop, with the same old dramas of relationships and struggling to decipher what it is we should do with our lives, with this all being acted out in front of our very eyes. Social media making us hungry to know who went on to become the next big popular party animal at university or how the perfect couple are still together taking endless selfies of their latest break to Iceland, leaving only I, you and us to figure out the realities of all of this.

Sure there have been bright moments but these are only later foreshadowed by the dark looms of unhappiness and feeling unwanted by the world. Celebrities and public figures throwing their thoughts in, under-funded and left without a voice or vocal to speak for us. Becoming as fashionable as a pooch dragged along in a somewhat oversized handbag, to be popular is good but to be misinterpreted and badly portrayed is in fact the opposite, give me a voice, give me a purpose or just throw me away and write me off as another unpaid volunteer.

And so this is my scream, my unheard shout into the duvet cover for help. Let us be happy again, give us faith and a friend yet we don’t need hand holding nor a forceful dosage of medication instead fill our wants and satisfy our needs, let us be happy again.

Having read this back to my untamed mind I now feel as though I am ready to begin or continue on this pathway, this plea to be heard, noticed and paid attention to once more. My mind now has unloaded and de-clouded I feel as though for now at least I can breathe once more.



Inside Da Vinci’s Mind

Some events in our lives define a mood, a time period or even influence/change who we are as a person. It’s these events that are toxic and almost explosive, just touching on this gives me goosebumps, all those ‘fake people’ and ’empty life forms’ you came across having only negative implications on your life. Most of the time unintentional, completely unplanned only leaving room for more knives to be stuck in whilst in their presence, be it digital, be it real the true extent is never at first know.

Experience is the key, in the eyes, in the blank unwilling reply to a conversation after all no one but that being knows the thoughts rushing through their mind. Slowly but surely we lose faith in humans as a species, seeing so many ‘perfect’ relationships on our digital feed only allows our minds to think that we are not. That no friendship or love has it’s downsides with arguments, fighting and ever so small disagreements, maybe if we created an honest view of our lives then so many minds wouldn’t feel as though they are alone, in feeling left out or friend-less. Upon this a view should be taken for our well-being, for our minds to put to rest all the anxiety that social butterflies and extroverts have caused, a picture only paints a snapshot of the moment. Did Mona Lisa always look so still and effortless? Was Da Vinci only painting his perception? For all we know Lisa could have been a dark force to be beckoned with, making others feel her confident wraith as she married with 5 children at such a young age giving all to a cloth merchant.

Famous faces only give the positive story, most of the time this is to portray a strong message to their fans and that they don’t want others to see them crumble. Not always the fault of their own, attacks from the media and bad press received can blacken a name, painting an alternative picture to that of the truth. With honest news and messages becoming seemingly hard to come across this only dampens the stigma and social acceptance of mental health issues and how emotionally we are all different. Caring for minds is like holding a beating heart in your very hands, if left alone it will continue to beat but throw a complication to the system and starve it of oxygen suddenly it becomes broken and begins to feel at half battery power once again. The right conditions, the almost niche environment and the select social few can change the tone, with their power comes a responsibility. Speaking only words yet transforming and ridding the mind of dark clouds feeling awake once more to the reform of reality and growing ever stronger in society until another day.

Off loading many of these stimulating thoughts all into one, take from it a mind filled with strength and education. Yet this is not a test to see who will pass and those that will fail, just instilling this thought and being mindful of others should do the trick. Wearing an honest smile only when feeling as though today the sun is shining, allowing the fake abnormalities of social surroundings to be fluid and instead felt as raw, organic truths.



Toothpaste Tastes the Same

Monday morning, seven hours into the am, the alarm strategically sounds, a sudden shudder and a somehow planned stretch I am awoke. Brain telling me that if the eyes close I’ll be a goner and probably fired from work, on the other hand it screams ‘be different’ obediently listening the angel of goodwill and morals on my right shoulder. Getting up out of bed at this some what life absorbing hour feeling torn and battered from the luxuries of the weekend, once again feeling the strained spine and bad back motions from the chains that surround my very generic office swivel desk chair, in that formal air-conditioned unit breathing the same as every other freedom seeking soul.

With the blind now rolled up to reveal the street light estate in which I live, a few other curtains like mine are hazily open with small shudders of others getting ready to leave for the day. Sneaking downstairs alone, desperate not to wake the family, deactivating the second alarm for the morning and entering the kitchen to fill my bowl with well marketed health filled oats, adding milk then microwaved – the ease of the twenty-first century. The time now set for two minutes, the clock ticking again as I still begin to wonder ‘can I ditch work?’ Again the right side wins. Armed with my spoon the time is up and predictably as the every day norm goes I stop the timer with one second to spare, the OCD in me telling that I have saved myself from the timer and any unnecessary attention being drawn from anywhere else in the home.

Now to the living room, undressing the blinds being able to see a small glimmer of sunlight peaking around the garden alley emotionally this rings a lot nicer. Digging into breakfast, usually food at anytime is good but this just feels like disappearing sunlight, using my t-shirt as a sort of guard against the crucifixion of the heat from my microwaved bowl. The last spoonful now filling my mouth, my mind hoping for more of this edible substance but instead I am retained to the routine. Back to the kitchen for the same glass of water that every morning brings, swilling it around my mouth, cooling the taste buds of my tongue. A sort of cold burn now felt as I reach the final ounce of my glass, imagining that today’s tasks are soon to be completed, my eyelids now like shutters are they open? Should they be closed? Breathing through the tapping pain felt at the forefront of the brain, relaxing the mind as a sort of hug to say that everything will be just fine.

As I carefully place the glass on the kitchen surface for the first time in twenty-four hours I know that the next stage is to come.

On the very bridges of my toes, slowly but efficiently making advances up the stairs to the bathroom for the penultimate stop. Checking my image and sleepy eye filled appearance in the mirror should I wet comb my hair to make it look more appealing? Probably. Reaching for my toothbrush, a lucky guess to get this one right with the light being off as to minimise the noise of the shattering fan that would fill the vicinity; I show the brush to the window pane hoping to shed a little colour on this grey situation. Once I can be sure of my ownership to this brush I take a grasp for the toothpaste, three stripes as always as though to be patriotic to the fresh feeling to come. Now squeezing the end of the tube a small stripe is displayed onto the brush a small rinse and ready to go in. The top first, hoping to reach all faces and every tooth as an equal. Onto the bottom as the paste now runs sparse perhaps I spent too long focusing on the top and not saving enough for the lower row? A small rush to give the remaining bodies a quick shine before spitting out the scum. After three hundred and sixty-five days at the least, even the toothpaste begins to taste the same, with a lack of freshness and excitement just like me. Doing its job and providing a small service to the all-powerful world. Still having uses but all too constant and much of the same in order to be rewarded with the cold hard paper stuff.

Finally in this room I wash, lather my hands and then leave on the trigger of the almost silent plug hole gargle to the bedroom.

Time to get changed into a shirt and some formal trousers in order to fit the criteria of the role. Gathering some socks, underwear and my attire I change and feel unlike the toothpaste a little more fresh and worthy. Spraying only a small amount of deodorant under the arms and around the body, immunity to the smell and effect that I once felt. Buttoning the shirt and pulling up the trousers now I am ready. The day can almost too immediately face me, as I do it, until another blast of the alarm my morning routine is far away from me now.

It’s over as I lock the front door behind me and climb into the car, turning to the ignition only nine to five awaits.

Closing disclaimer: On a more serious and personality filled note, never did I ever think that I could be so in-depth about toothpaste. But there it was, thank you I guess to the creativity that I can now hone and to the dark spots and uncontrollable down points that come with it.



Infuse for the Flavour

Pouring the boiling hot substance into a mug, drop in the flavour and infuse. Letting the taste strengthen with every second, perhaps adding a little sweetness to enhance the excitement, best served hot and freshly brewed. Once cold all lack of interest is gone, just poured down the drain with the rest of the bitter-sweet exes. Could it be tea? Conjuring over the lines again it sounds a little like every relationship I ever had, cold and not stirred enough for the full flavour to be unleashed.

Like tea, in relationships I can be pretty particular, always wanting more substance and less ‘please leave me alone’ which explains the very reason that I’m single and have either little to non or sudden impulsive wants for a relationship. Just someone to hold and flood away the thoughts would be nice, convincing myself to the idea though it has to be the right person; trusting, loving and familiar without too much of an idea of who I once was only where I am going.

Almost gone without saying, Valentine’s Day is upon us. Please I pray don’t be another reminder of how potentially introverted and in-social I can be, instead allow personal goals to be thought out and encouraged.

Allowing another throwaway to enter my mind was never the plan.

Not even surviving January, guess it was dry but it was me, I said goodbye, I had to.

Being positive and taking a deeper look into this feeling will only allow me to feel more emotionally forgotten so I sit up and love myself. Tomorrow’s fortune will never be forgone, opening my mind and seeking out another ‘potentials’ I feel it coming again, swearing that this time I’ll let the flavour infuse and maybe not expect every sip to be perfect or as good as the initial one. Programmed to fail is how I see it, perfection is what is expected yet it never surfaces. Unnervingly taking on the idea that perfection is too much, even the hottest summers day has a breeze or moment of shade.

The promise I’ve made to myself?

Try failure and that heartbreak diet a few more times before you call it a day and just settle for one cup to fill instead of many half full.


Differing Fortunes

Never have I listened to fortunes or telling of the future, only when fueling self-esteem and I’m allowed to believe that any chance of it happening is greater than seventy percent. Positivity and drive have always been experiences that are either felt greatly or not at all, in other words if my heart isn’t in it then I won’t waste my time trying. Admittedly not the best or most popular mantra to have however, on the other end of the scale if my mind is set on something then there is no option other than to achieve.

The coming of Chinese New Year which I’ve never knowingly celebrated brought with it fortune and open ideas, I say this because the fortune received was one of happiness and hope, one that actually made me believe in myself. Yet the thought of this is insane, words being able to change a mood or emotion, words giving us hope or filling us with fear, just words.

“In dreams and in life nothing is impossible”

One line on a small piece of paper forcefully wedged inside a cookie sized bite, with it thoughts were spurred and passion filled my mind. I was told to never listen to what others thought or pay any attention to how others viewed me but from this small anonymous piece of paper I am more judged and categorised than ever. Moments like this can either help us rise or see us fall, if it’s bad we choose to ignore, if it’s the other way then it’s to be listened to.

Overthinking the few words I was fed would be silly and down right wrong, on the other hand they wont be ignored. Maybe one last little pick apart of every character before the words become too ingrained and lead me to believe that they are everything my life has to offer the world. In dreams and in life comparatively leading my hopeful mind to allow for a sense of false reality to be created, one that gives truth and grit to be felt from the silliest of throw away thoughts. Nothing is impossible, although I believe this I am still questioning it with all my might.

And so let the year of the rooster, with all its wellbeing and impossibilities begin!

Now because of this I believe that opening up to new ideas and cultures is exciting, I’m not implying that now because of this I’ll be the most supportive of Chinese values. Instead allowing others in and not being so frigid to shut them out, after all difference is what helps us differ.



Who Are You?

Asking myself, who are you? The constant chronicles of self reassessment and varying definitions of being me. Sometimes questioning whether that inner voice is the same person or is this just my instincts kicking in? When tasked with an over complicated situation I struggle to comprehend the easy way out, always a little difficult which is the social code for; awkward.

Awkward I have decided though is me. First and foremost this is my nature, never being able to see the obvious social solution, just keep smiling I decide. Looking vacant and half in the conversation, half out, still here but my mind occupied with the seven other scenarios I am desperately still trying to solve and so I quiz myself once more. This time disconnecting myself from me and the experience as though viewing life through a VR lens, as though there is an element that this isn’t real and as though just standing by will help me for one more second go unnoticed.

As I slip back from the virtual environment I realise actually I do know what to do and this time smiling is the answer, reassuring others that they too are being listened to. Even if my contribution is minimal or I look stupid, feeling embarrassed, there’s still the idea that the awkwardness is me.

Living in fear of saying and not doing for so long. Instead when feeling stuck and lost I look to myself in the mirror for help, reassurance that I exist and that what other people are seeing isn’t a fake irrelevant image of some alternate reality. One where a tragic emotionless society is born, now together we talk, relate and move things forward, a friendship is born then suddenly forever we are bonded. Until one ghosts the other or until I reassess another individual change and then we grow apart.

Once again left asking myself, who are you?



Solo Warriors

Fists clenched, nails torn. Just another day gone by where feeling cheated and ripped in two are the norm. Anxiety.

They call me social recluse, they call me introvert yet they never think to take one look beyond this dark and plain book cover. Read the content,  to fathom whether or not my story line has any meaning or if I can be the next popular best seller. Thrown back on the pile, left for the next to try until finally I lose faith. Become a solo warrior. Lone or not they will see me rise.

Taking on this world with no immediate person to call upon for help. I am solo warrior. Every last millimeter of me now swollen, hairs stood on end with a solemn shiver down the spine. Fire in the eyes, anxiety in my heart with fingers ready to let out spurs of pure explosion. This feeling is all too familiar, my cheeks burn rosy red but embarrassed I am not. Looking around everyone else is, looking right through I don’t give a fuck. Middle finger, anxiety. Middle finger, pain. Not today my too familiar enemy.


Honestly just a stroll down the street now haunts me. Nails and finger fumbling are my strategy discreetly hoping that they are unnoticed, I see others share the same and immediately I am filled with hope and belonging. Here I am welcome and can now be myself. Alone no more, surrounded by stress and worry together we conquer.

A gathering of solo warriors now becomes a team, staring the anguish in its eyes. This time, introverts sit together perhaps alone on the sofa but always drawn together. A cup of freshly dripped tea in hand with just one thing missing. A friend.

The Loner

Sat staring into space, earphones in with controversial alternative sounds playing. You may call them an outcast or refer to them as an introvert but the truth is that this is their 12am rave, deep house party and deadly dosage of drugs all in one. There are so many alike, never met before due to their awkward reclusive stances. Taking a back seat in life yet still ever more driven and intelligent, the ‘just here to make up the numbers’ image of them was a lie in the end it seems, becoming a globally profound name. Number one in their profession, a reliable force to be beckoned with, shaping this world, still never given the credit they deserve.

Mark Zuckerburg, Abraham Lincoln to name a few. Wildly introvert but responsive to change and ideas flowing faster than could be liked, shared or commented only wishing he had hash-tagged that.

A blank page to be written. Your story, make it short, write a novel with never-ending chapters; take a moment, waste it or create the next big mainstream adopted social norm.

Be organic and grow, be an introvert and speak freely.

Be lone and face the world.
Admittedly this was a little different from my usual content, looking at motivation and positivity from a different angle was productive. Short and straight to the point is this weeks mantra.

I hope you liked it and as always I am open to suggestions, talking with others and being positive!