Posts Tagged ‘alone’


I’m in the new flat. It’s so different to the old house, smaller, no gardens, just bricks. Outside it’s rows and rows of houses. Big, small, terraced, semis, detached. Houses of all shapes and sizes with equally different and diverse families in them. It’s all so different to what I’m used to, to what I know. It’s overwhelming my senses having to learn a new area, meet new people, start life all over again. It’s all I can do to just get out of bed. I’m finding it difficult to cope, don’t know what to do or who to turn to. I pull the duvet over my head and take comfort in the dark. I’m happy now.


A short story of my little adventure yesterday.

It starts fine my run round Midgely Moor. I feel good and I’m running well. I’m alone on the moors and I’m enjoying it. I follow the route up and over High Brown Knoll, down to Warley Moor Reservoir and up the bog following the fence. Then it all goes wrong, very wrong. I climb over the stile and head for the stones at the top of the moor. Except that today I can’t see them because the fog has descended on the moor and the layer of grey mist is all there is here. I think I’m following the right path, I see some stones and head for them believing I am on the right path. But I’m not. I walk around the moors for 5 long miles through ankle deep water and knee high tussocks getting more lost and confused with each step. I hear voices but cannot see anyone. Are these the voices of the dead who got lost on these moors and come out when the fog hides them? I pass the stones again and realise I am alone on the moors, lost in a blanket of fog with only the voices of the dead calling out to me. I keep seeing a path only to get close and realise it’s just grass of a different colour. Is this it I wonder? Is this where my life ends alone on the moors, exhausted, confused, scared. I pass the stones again and head in a straight line, it’s my only hope of getting off the moor. I come out of the fog and I can see where I am as the air clears around me. In the distance I can see a path, this is much clearer than the others. I head over the moor and finally get to the path. I can get home now back to the warmth and safety of my home and away from the moor that wants to eat me up.


they call me fat
make me feel ashamed
ashamed to eat
ashamed to enjoy food
ashamed to go out
ashamed to be seen
ashamed to look at
my reflection in the mirror
ashamed to think
ashamed to breath
ashamed to be human
ashamed to be me
being ashamed has
become my identity
i am not human anymore
i only exist so
others can mock me
force me to stop inside
and eat more and more
exacerbating the problem
completing the circle of
problem, abuse, shame
a vicious circle
that consumes me
a vicious circle
that i cannot escape


it’s a cold but sunny morning. Mum has left me on my own at school for the first time. I’m alone. Teachers and children run around, shouting and screaming. I’m lost. I know where I am but not what I’m supposed to do. I walk to the playground and the bullies see their chance and attack me, kicking me to the floor. I’m surrounded by them, all looking down at me. No one comes to help me, no teachers or children. I’m truly alone now in a mass of people. They call me names, mummies boy, softy, they keep coming. Then the beating starts, more kicks and still no one helps me. The bell goes for the start of lessons and I’m alone, lying on a cold, tarmac playground, looking up at a clear, blue sky. Everyone has gone inside, teachers, children, bullies. I get up, brush the dirt off my legs and go inside to my lesson. They knew I was different. I didn’t know I was. I never tell anyone about the bullying, I never forget it though.


I’m at home. We’re having a party. It might have been because my brother is home on leave from the army. The adults are talking and drinking, ignoring me. I go outside and start to walk. I walk down the hill, across the road, through the fields and the woods and then I’m sat on a wall at the side of the road, waiting, for what I can’t remember know. A car pulls up, a man gets out, it’s my dad. They missed me and came looking for me. I didn’t think anyone would miss me or come looking for me. I just wanted to walk forever and be free from everything, to be alone, on my own.


Who has the power
To decide what is
And what is not deviant

Do they understand
The effect this has
On others different to them

That by labelling others
They view as different
They alter the perceived

Identity of that person
In the eyes of the person
And the eyes of others

They are stigmatised
Life chances are reduced
The edges of society

Draw closer
They begin to feel
Apart from society

Less of a person
No one to turn to
No one to talk to

Alone in the universe
Because someone decided
They were different

And used this power
To control how
Society sees them

Taking away their life
Reducing them to
Nothing


It’s the anxiety that kills you
Strangles you alive
Forcing even the bacteria
From the bowels of your stomach
So you have nothing left
Not even a bacteria
To settle the nerves
Raising from the
Depths of your stomach
So you feel nothing
See nothing, hear nothing
Life becomes a blur
As you shake powered
By nervous energy
The foundations of your
House begin to move
Cracks appear in the
Road outside as
Your shaking threatens
Global peace, Trump and Kim
Blame each other for
Launching a nuclear missile
And just when you
Cannot take any more
It stops
Your mind and body
Cannot take anymore
Exhausted by anxiety
They give up the fight
You feel relaxed
So you see what you’ve missed
Texts, calls, emails, bills
Appointments, deadlines
Everybody wants you
Everybody wants something from you


Today is not a good day. I feel down, depressed torn between two different me’s both fighting to be in control of me. I don’t know who I am or what I am doing here. I’m operating on auto pilot for the sake of survival.

All I want to do is curl up in a ball and go to sleep. Wake up? Who knows? Maybe, maybe not. But not wake up like this. In a land of nothing, going nowhere, floating in space with no direction.

I ran 11 miles yesterday. People were congratulating me telling me how inspirational I was. But who inspires me? Who is there for me to look up to when I need a lift? Who indeed.

All alone in a vast universe slowly being suffocated by the hand of life. No energy, just want to go to sleep and wake up somewhere different. But not on this place, not here…


This is a poem I wrote after reading about a man who had been made redundant and has only a tin of spaghetti to eat every day.

a tin sits on a table

alone

surrounded by nothing

a dull cylinder of aluminium

encased in a dull white cover

two ends poking out

trying to escape

but going nowhere

he stares at the tin

and the image burns in his eye

embedded in his memory

of what may be his last meal

a tin of brand less, tasteless spaghetti

given to him by a stranger

seeing his look of desperate hunger

the anguish of an empty stomach

picking up the tin-opener

tainted with the remains of

yesterday’s dull white label

he struggles to connect the

opener to the tin

weak with hunger

it clicks loudly and with a

clunk begins to remove the

lid, every turn a noisy struggle

and then it is off

edges jagged waiting to tear

apart unsuspecting flesh on

its sharp, uneven teeth

as the contents are revealed

grey processed worms concealed

in bright manmade orange fluid

he swallows the feeling of

revulsion, the tinge of nausea

because today this is

his one and only meal

the one bit of food he will

consume to keep him going until

tomorrow

when the process begins again……………………