Inspired Again

I take to the keyboard again, this time to write about something I failed at – suicide. It breaks just about all the social norms to bring up suicide down the pub or in polite conversation probably and even if I wanted to go there I don’t know what would come out if I did begin to flow about the circumstances surrounding my premature planned departure from this life.

Guess what, Guys!

But If I had to I’d probably bluff my way through and use imagery.



The pit of hell-fire that was my life. Flames licking at the bottom of my bed upon sleeping that would be there, upon waking they would be there. And drastic changes in my circumstances, bankruptcy, zero progress in my studies and planned career change and a tree falling in the forest making no sound like the distinct lack of support I had made me desperate for any sort of success.

So I joined in the pot smoking club where success was measured in a skillful blend and rolling technique and the ability to remain still whilst hallucinating and not to scream (or not to care) . I did not care enough to refrain from partaking daily.

Then there were the media of ultra-violent DVD’s designed to bring out the savage in you. Then there was the sexual politics and homophobia. Then there was depression. Then there was violence and poverty and far right politics going on right under my nose permeating every thought and my daily conscience for about twelve months. Not my view at all.

I forgot to mention declining or nonexistent positive relationships outside of the circle of festerment that was my life. Bitter? More like 99 percent proof.

So, I decided that to end it was the best choice. I tried to overdose on pills, but I failed. And I came back to the same old shit. So I ran away. To Paris which in hindsight was the best thing, I could have done in the circumstances. Then followed a psychotic breakdown and two months stay in Hospital in Paris after which I returned home to Blighty much refreshed and relieved to be back with my family and out of the situation I was in.

I feel about it like I failed and had no options in life. That sort of thing should not happen in the 21st century. Also, I lack the inclination to paint myself as a dark brooding in the netherworld sort of guy which is a good thing because that is not what aI am – at all.

But I thought I would write about it because perhaps it will do me some good to write about it and possibly someone some good to read it. I am a firm believer in learning and if this helps you learn anything then it was not a waste of time me writing this.

BTW I’m not bitter.








Published by Andrew Mark Watkins

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