I have been happier during the past few months, than I have been in such a long time. It’s a strange feeling, contentment. I never thought that I would achieve, or even deserve, contentment and comfort with other human beings.I never thought myself worthy of such great, accepting company.Yet here they are, making me that one step closer to accepting and believing in myself. Not only do they accept me, but they well and truly believe in me more than I ever thought anyone could.

They amplify my greatest qualities, and make me into the best possible version of myself. They ground me. They aid me in my darkest moments, instead of deserting me like people have done before.

What beauty, to have such amazing people inhabiting this cruel world. What wonder, to have people possessing such staggering qualities. What grace, to be supported by such wondrous humans. What sadness, that not everyone will get to befriend these people. But what a gift, that I am blessed enough to witness their presence.

Beauty is all around us, if only we are open to it. Open your mind wide enough, and you will witness one of these rare beings and cherish the wonder that surrounds you.

Society oppresses people everywhere, but there are some that are courageous enough to revolt against it. I have been lucky enough to meet some of these brave people, and my life has improved greatly since.

I am blessed.

Dedicated to Josh and Libby.


Moving on.

I think the hardest thing about loving someone who doesn’t reciprocate the same feelings, is the hope that one day they will. That one day they will fall head over heels in love with you, and they will feel that same butterfly feeling in the pit of their stomach that you feel at the sight of their face, the sound of their voice.
But the sickening reality is that they won’t ever see you in that way. Your face won’t be the face that they will wish to wake up to everyday, your caress will not be the touch that they yearn for and your kiss will not be the one that they crave.
Slowly, this hope slowly diminishes until you realise that you will never be the one that they are looking for, the one that they truly deserve.

The second hardest thing is watching them fall for someone else, hearing them talk about others that they feel affection for. Telling them that you are happy for them, despite the immense feeling of heartbreak that you are experiencing in that moment. The pain is evident in your eyes, and in your voice but you will them not to notice.

Despite all of this emotional pain, you still want them to be happy; even if this happiness is not a result of your presence.

Although I feel so much pain at seeing you with someone else, I still wish you the best. Your happiness has always been paramount to me, even if it is with another girl.

All the best.

Lots of love,



A mutation.

I am sad for no reason at all.

Or maybe there is a reason. Or maybe there are many reasons contributing to this overwhelming sadness that I am experiencing right now. This despair that I feel at around the same time every night. Even though I can sense the sadness looming, creeping closer to the centre of my mind, I am still unable to cope with the consequences. The way that I am not able to summon the energy to propel words out of my mouth. The mouth that is usually moving so quickly, words speeding out of my mouth so easily. Yet now I am rendered speechless. And if I am required to talk, the effort that is required is unbearable.

I am finding it difficult to even brush my fingers over the laptop keys. To press down on the letters that are formulating these words right this second. How strange that 26 letters make up entire languages. How strange that there are over 7 billion different faces on the planet, over 7 billion different combinations of DNA. Considering this, how silly of me to ever consider that i could possibly be significant. I am so insignificant, a tiny dot on a planet holding millions. How could I ever make a difference? if I was to swallow a large number of pills right now and leave the world, time would not stop. the world would not stop tilting on its axis. How foolish of us to believe we hold some significant importance, that we are irreplaceable. How easily replaced we really are. We are not the be all and end all, as we falsely believe. People find new friends, new lovers; enhanced versions of ourselves. How shameful to believe that I could possibly hold any special significance to any other human being.

Psychologists state that attachments are necessary for basic functioning. As humans, we are designed to be social creatures, to form attachments and bonds with other humans. We are not solitary animals, mental health issues are often linked with poor attachments or a lack of attachments. Yet, right at this moment, I feel that attachments are not having a good effect on me personally. Even the attachments that I deem to be special to me, for attachments lead to intense envy and self-doubt for me. How could anyone possibly want to be friends with me? What qualities of mine could possibly be deemed desirable? How am I ever going to match up to those I consider my best and closest friends? I will never be the one who stands out in a good way, the one who everyone loves so easily. I am a mutation, a side effect. I was not made for this world, I am an accident. A wrong sequence of amino acids, of genetic material. For why should someone like me exist?

I am aware that it is highly likely that I will leave this world of my own accord. I will, one day, intentionally take my life. Maybe by swallowing the pills that scream at me to ingest them, by tying the belt that beckons me around my neck, by jumping in a vast array of water and weighing myself down way beneath the surface, by slicing the flesh of my wrist with a sharp knife and watching the blood ooze from my body in streams. A world of possibilities, yet the only possibilities that I can see clearly are the ways in which I can depart from this cruel world. I don’t know when this day will be, but I feel that I will know when I awaken that day.

I’m sorry, for those who care about me. I care about you all so much, and it’s tearing me apart.

I have tried everything.

I am trapped and I am dying. Maybe not physically, but I am decaying psychologically. How do people expect me to live like this? The pain is becoming unbearable, yet it is not visible to those around me. Our sensitive human eyes can not detect emotional pain easily, as we can a broken limb. My mind is broken, yet there is no visible proof. How do I explain this to those who do not understand?

Why must my own mind betray me, and steal every essence of myself as well as every ounce of love for life that I possess?

Depression, release your grip. I beg of you.


Letter To My First Love

I loved you. My heart swelled with love and affection for you, and I believe that you reciprocated this. For a while anyway. You once told me that I was the only girl you had loved that you could actually imagine a future with. You told me the most intimate things, and I shared my deepest thoughts and feelings with you. We helped eachother in our journey to recovering. That’s what I chose to believe at the time anyway. Whereas now, reflecting on our experience maybe we clashed too much. Maybe instead of improving eachother, we were toxic. Our love was poison.

I think I was conscious of our toxicity at the time, but I refused to believe it. So, I buried the consciousness in the back of my mind and continued to see you and our love through rose-tinted glasses. We formulated plans. I still have the list somewhere. We were going to go to the rooftop cinema in London, we were going to walk along the heath in your hometown, have a movie marathon. So many plans, so many dreams.

I craved your touch, to be held by you, your kiss. I needed you, and I thought you needed me. I wanted to be with you every step of the way through your operation and your illness. You were in pain and I wanted to try and eradicate that pain as much as I could, but in the end you wouldn’t let me. You wouldn’t let me be there for you, you pushed me away, because you had found a better option. I get that she is prettier, thinner, probably a better person. But I would have done anything for you. I still would.

I still don’t go a day without thinking of you, and imagining how things would be different if you hadn’t have given up on us. I don’t think a day will ever pass where I don’t think of you. Nostalgia and hurt still remains, yet you don’t even spare me a thought. Did I mean that little to you?

I pray for a day to come where I don’t miss you, don’t still feel love and pain whenever your name appears in my brain.

But for now, I do miss you. I do love you. And I would still take you back in an instant.


My release. *trigger warning*

My index and middle fingers both penetrate my mouth, slithering to the back of my throat. My fingers, an attachment of me, are attacking me. They skim against my tonsils and the lining of my throat. Frustration sweeps the entire length of my body, building up in my chest when I see no result. This needs to happen. I have done this many times before. The relief I feel afterwards is phenomenal.

After numerous attempts of pounding my fingers against my fleshy throat lining, I regurgitate the food that I just digested. Food is not my friend, yet I continue to propel chocolate after chocolate into myself. My body is already at maximum capacity, I cannot accumulate any more weight. The pounds of chocolate and sweets are already blatantly obvious on my thighs, my stomach, my face. I am nauseating, repellent.

As the chunks of food escape the prison that is my body, my emotional pain alleviates slightly. I have saved myself from becoming a pound heavier. I need to prevent myself from becoming increasingly corpulent, and this is the only way that I am aware of.

Kneeling in front of the toilet soothes me. I am pleasing the thoughts. I swell with pride instead of pounds whenever my two fingers are buried inside my mouth, whenever the vomit protrudes. I am one step closer to being a better me.


Suppressing Shadows.

The lengths that I will go to forget everything are infinite and vast. But my mind isn’t, and never will be, a blank canvas. Yet I try and change this, because I radiate desperation. I yearn for a blank canvas, a clean slate to my mind. A replacement for the depressive and woeful thoughts. I crave to be a completely new person, a new human being. I am not content with the body that I possess, the thoughts that claim to be a schism of me.

I do not wish to be an associate of this string of incomprehensible words that threaten to tear my entire existence apart. The occurrence of draining thoughts telling me to slit my throat, to down an entire bottle of pills and close my eyes, welcoming the silence and soothing darkness. Slowly taking me away from the world that claims to be accepting, the society that claims to function for every individual. I am an outcast, a spare tyre that no-one wishes to use, the scar on your body that you hate. I do not belong here. I do not wish to be here, trapped inside a body of which I despise.

Emptiness is I. I am emptiness. I lack emotion in the pit of my stomach, yet emotion fills the depths of my mind of which I am unable to escape. I am a prisoner of the darkness that leaks inside every single nook of my mind. Alluring shadows trail the tracks of my brain, befriending me, deceiving me. These shadows are not my friends, they are the opposite. I am not an advocate of things being either black or white, but I assure you that these beings are not my friends. They lure me in, presenting me with images of the things that I want the most. I want escapism, I want to breathe the essence of life that I am craving, I ache for being and not just existing. But although they promise me the things that I yearn for even more than I love another being, they are simply an epitome of my darkest perceptions and beliefs. Instead of aiding me in my journey to redemption, they are wrenching me even further into my imprisonment. The walls are closing in.




Closer than ever before. I am trapped, frantically searching for an exit. The helix of thoughts is pressing closer, suppressing and suffocating my entire being. I am struggling to breath, panic setting in. I feel it rooting in my chest, unfurling across the entire stretch of my body. Quilting such a large surface area in such a minuscule stretch of time. Simply a matter of seconds before I start to hyperventilate. If my world can collapse in such a short amount of time, and so often, then why is my existence essential when I am so fragile?

I have been persevering for a vast amount of time, and I think it may be blatant that I accept my losses and surrender in defeat. I am Bethany, and I am many things. Yet I am not a survivor, nor am I a rolemodel. But soon, I may just be a victim to the exact thing that the thoughts are begging me to do.

Take me, shadow friends.






I’m just waiting for the crash. I’m spiralling into the darkness again at top speed freefall. I have no parashoot, and I will feel the crash harder than ever before.

I can feel myself getting closer and closer to the impending doom, the dark abyss.. Everything is speeding so fast around me, yet I feel in slow motion. My life is speeding past me, and I am watching everything go in fast motion yet I can’t catch up. I’m lagging behind. How am I supposed to catch up in a world that is pinning me down?

How am I supposed to free myself from the voice inside my head telling me to just end it all, to end all the suffering?

So many thoughts. Racing around in my bottomless mind. I reach out, try to grab them and eradicate them yet they slide out of my grip. I persevere anyway, until all of my energy has ceased to exist. The thoughts continue to race around, bouncing off the walls in my mind. My mind aches. Every part of my existence aches. 
I walk without really walking, I talk without really talking. Who am I? What is the meaning of my perpetual existence? My mind and body are futile. I am beyond repair. I am not a flat tyre that can easily be replaced, the depression has completely taken over to the point where I can not be retrieved.There is no escape for me, so I shall try to minimise the casualties in any way possible.
My heart is full with love, my mind full with dreams, my eyes full of light. Yet I predict that all of this wonder will slowly diminish, as I begin to waste away.
I am a waste of breath, a waste of wondrous life. I am disposing the gift of life that has generously been given to me and the guilt I feel is incomprehensible. Although I am conscious of this fact, my depression is degenerative. I am not able to revolt against the illness that is crushing the walls of my mind, crushing every piece of me that makes me the person who I am.
I am highly flawed. Isn’t every human? The illness is not only taking my flaws, but also my virtues and my assets. 
I appreciate the world that surrounds me. The birds that sing every morning, the wind that blows, the voices of the people I dearly love, the words on the pages of my favourite books, the feel of my lips on another’s, the sound of rain against my window, the scent of vanilla and freshly cut grass, the animals and insects that roam, walking barefoot through the grass, standing in the rain, warm embraces, comforting smiles, a clear sky. I adore all of these things, and will do so until the apathy takes over.
For now, although I cannot see an escape route, I will try to remain hopeful for my loved ones. I will plaster a smile on my face, I will love deeply, I will feel strongly, I will sing loudly. I will do all the things that I want to do, until every ounce of energy dissipates. 
I will be me.