I'm going to regret writing this, and I'm going to regret publishing it even more.
Most people who read this blog, will, by now, know who I am.
For those of you who don't, I'm Thomas Joy, and I'm 18.
When I think about what I want from life, I suppose, along with everyone else, I want success, happiness and a long life, and so on. But when I think about the present, I wonder what it is I want out of tomorrow? And the day after? And what did I want from yesterday?
I'm not the easiest person to get on with, I know this! I'm a pain in the arse, I talk to much, usually about myself to be fair, and I have an unending talent to push people away.
But ultimately, above all else, it's not that I want people to like me, so much, as respect me enough to put up with me. I've written before about my rejection of the importance of image, and in all honesty, y'know, I'm not the thinnest guy, nor the most attractive, definitely not the coolest, my feet are too big and my eyes can't decide what colour they want to be. My taste in music is questionable to say the least, as is my taste in hobbies.
I'm an all right pianist, I'm no virtuoso by any means. And my composing? In all honesty, it's kinda bland. Mediocre, certainly. Musically, it's nothing special. I like to try and big up what I do, I suppose, because it's what I take the most pride in, though, when I think about it, I don't know why.
What I'm trying to get at here, is just a matter of respect. I don't expect everyone to like me, frankly, I don't think I'd like myself! But don't mess me around. If there's one thing I can't abide, it's being lied to. If you don't like me, if I've done something wrong then have the goddamn fucking courage to tell me. I'd rather argue and feel like I can defend myself than be subject to disdain.
For those of you who don't know, I suppose now is as best time to tell any of you, in the hope that I can help, if ever it's needed. A few years ago, I was diagnosed with Bipolar, manic depression. I cannot begin to describe how difficult it's been to fight, and in all honestly, I've not always won. But, I'm having hospital treatment for it, in the desperate hope I can be a stronger person. With that, earlier this year, I was diagnosed with OCD. Something I had always joked about, but never actually considered seriously.
When people say stupid things like 'oh I'm so depressed', no offence, but, you have no idea. Depression is not an emotion, it's not a thing that comes and goes trivially. It's a life-long battle that I, and so many others have to face day in, day out. And this blog post, this blog itself is an outlet for that. The OCD is fairly under control most of the time, but, there are times when I freak out. If you've ever been with me, I can't walk on the right of someone if there's nobody on my right-hand side, I'm obsessive about hand washing, I check pockets obsessively, yes, I know.
And frankly, I'm not asking you to like me. All I'm asking is that you don't kick me down all the time. You don't mess me around because I'll always be there to forgive you, y'know what? I won't. Think about what you say before you say it, yeah? I have the same thoughts and feelings and hopes and dreams as everyone else. Just because I put on a brave face and laugh off the insults, doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.
I've only been alive 18 years. But I've met and known some incredible people, people who have touched and shaped my life more than they can begin to imagine, and I'll forever be incredible grateful to them.
And I'm sorry about the rant, but, I guess this all just, needed to be written.
Thank You all, for understanding, at least.