《Painful Words》Night Times
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I've been having late nights
But I can't seem to care about the sleep I'm losing
Because it seems to be the only time I allow myself to feel anything
Allow myself to cry
To listen to the same music on repeat and know that I'll never feel this way through the day
During the night when the light's gone out
And the darkness comes
I'm allowed to feel things because I understand
During the day I'm an outsider
There's a darkness within me while everything else is bright
During night
We are one and the same
I understand what it likes to cry because you can't feel anything
To cry because you hate yourself more than anyone else
Always wanting to die because you feel like you don't deserve life
For two years I've suffered through this
While faking it with laughs that aren't genuine
To the point that I don't know what my true laugh sounds like
Or smile
Everything is forced
The scars I have caused on myself are a reminder of how I can't feel anything but the numbness
The pain they brought to me is long since gone
Wiped away from existence
But the memories they hold will never fade
I'm alive but I'm not living
If this is life
Then I don't want it
I'm tired of the charades of pretending to be happy
For the sake of someone else
Where is my happiness?
Has it disappeared like my friends all did?
My body's sick and I won't listen
Because nothing I feed it will heal a broken soul
A broken mind
The ruination I caused was my fault
I'm the problem and I always have been
Late nights are the only time I'll allow myself to feel anything
And to the one time that I feel something during the day
Maybe the sad night times will finally start to fade away
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Old Riding Author Lunatic Asylum
Just off the A19, in the dark, incomprehensible lands known as Yorkshire, there lies a town. A town where shadow-silent alleys glint with the secret hunger of knives. Where blood soaks the chipboard window shutters of forsaken terraces stretching off into the night. Where the smog-choked air rattles with the depraved laughter echoing out from clubs that can only generously be described as post-apocalyptic. Well, that’s Middlesbrough. But down the A19 a bit (an impossibly long way down, actually) there lies another town: Raughnen, in the ancient, forgotten Old Riding. It is an equal match in muggery and thuggery alike. It also has magic spells and pointy wizard hats. And now, across the miles and across all sensibilities, a pretty nasty power (a magic one) calls out for its pretty nasty counterpart (a decidedly unmagic one): a proper sound Boro lad. Nothing good can come of it. This is a collection of one novella and four connected short stories: I. A Yorkshire Summoning II. Old Riding Day Trip (the novella) III. Heaven is a Parmo IV. Death on the 66 V. Death on the 257 In total, this comprises 34 chapters totalling around 35,000 words, so try not to worry. It will be over relatively quickly. There are three more short stories with more tenuous links to the core collection: Rush, Paper Round and Scenario 79: Sausage Fingers, all of which can be found in my collection Short Records of Misadventure. Reading these may allow you to make more sense of certain parts of the story, if any sense is to be made at all. NOTE: There are instances of prejudice and discrimination within these stories, including elements of sexism and ageism, which are purely the thoughts and actions of the characters involved and which certainly do not reflect my own views on these matters. ANOTHER NOTE; A WARNING, PERHAPS: This can get a bit weird. In less than 150 pages, we have four viewpoints, first and third person narratives, and a completely disjointed plot with lots of gaps, dead ends and no real resolution. Also ZERO lunatic asylums. It's all a bit odd. If that sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, which it most likely isn't, it might be best to move on now.
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