Dear Diary,

I am listening to Babyshambles. I'm not sure why but my mind is taken back to the mid 2000s a lot. I can't believe I'm saying 'mid 2000s' like its a concrete thing. I started blogging with Conatus at the tailend of the mid 2000s. I'm a much different person now. I think I might not even recognise who I am inside.

I've been working almost full time for the past 2-3 months and Today is a day where I can just sit at my desk and relax for a bit. Well, not relax, I mean catch up with stuff.

Maybe some things I might update you with

• I am now doing a job which is done by subeditors. Does that make me a subeditor? I've been wrestling with that question for a while.
• I think I might have PTSD. The memories and other bad things of life weigh heavy on me.
• I think that I've changed on the inside in being much more laid back and much more consumerist. I feel like consumerism can fill the holes inside me. Getting a new backpack or arranging my financials seem more a reason to get out of bed than philosophy or a pursuit of truth.
• I'm still on meds. I'm quite dependent on it. I can't soar with them, I can't live without them.
• I'm still really shit at writing and communicating. How the fuck did I become a subeditor??

I'm going to quit blogging now and tidy up my room.

Wish me luck. 

Dear diary,

I have a desk drawer with 3 drawers, and they are almost full of plastic cutlery.

I have been collecting plastic cutlery for the past 9-10 months.

I don't know why, I just feel like I have to.

I think there's something wrong with me.

I've not made it out. I've just survived and endured

Good morning,

One of my recurring dreams seem to be about me being back in school. Not necessarily being in school but being in the role of being a pupil. Being around authoritarian figures, being under their complete control and trying to get ahead in that environment.

I had a weird recollection in my recent dream that I was forced to do some kind of PE/games session, but then it turned out that I was pretty good on the boxing pads, and it felt at that moment that re-living things as a pupil were quite different to the old days when I was an actual pupil.

I'm not sure what to make of that. I was in a dinner party conversation a while back, in which we talked about the significance of dreams. A psychotherapist (I have a psychotherapist friend now) said to me that he loves hearing about dreams and is open to the interpretation of them. A psychiatrist (I also have a psychiatrist friend [they don't know my history]) then said that was utter tosh and dreams don't tell us reliable things.

I like to listen to dreams. Interpreting them is another issue. I make a point of trying to write about my dreams.

Lately I haven't been posting on my blog because I have been posting elsewhere. I have been expressing myself through a tumblr and instagram account. I have been trying to express myself in pictures of the world around me, instead of the feelings inside me. I guess, like the symbolic dream; what I do in the pictures is attempt to communicate what is going on within me through the pictures.

I suppose I'm trying to say that the world around me and that I've grown up in, has affected who I am and what I am. The world around me, if you want to know, isn't so great.

Neither am I.

I'm off to work later today, I'm doing a subeditor shift.

I am really surprised I could say that. There's a depressed past version of me whom I suspect things that 'I've made it' out of the hell that was my past and my pain.

I've not made it out. I've just survived and endured.