Death And All His Friends.

Grief fills the room up of my absent child
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form.

William Shakespeare, King John. 1596.

There are acts in this world that strip our senses, starve us of faith and leave us questioning the impossible forever.

My friend lost his 19-year-old brother yesterday.

Life and death is vicious. Unfair. Incomprehensible.

I can’t begin to imagine the day this family has had; how the ropes of their family have been severed, the loss harbouring each moment of their existence, infesting each thought ever forward.

The dead do not leave us; yet sometimes the dead leave us too soon. If there is a controller of mortality, then what good has come from snatching a much beloved son and brother from our world? These are the acts that are unnatural and never able to be forgiven. These are the facts of life that snatch away our hope and project an uncontrollable anger and sorrow to the skies above.

Just a few years ago, death and other tragedies seemed beyond the scope of our perception. We were children; our life’s were sheltered by our parents love and lived within the protection of schoolyard laughter and friends. We were invincible. Infinite.

Though at times we had burdens, they were solved with a reassuring hug from our parents and a good day at school. Life was light and easy, it bounced off the walls around us, wrapped us up in its love.

Now, with each year that we age, each degree we receive, job we take, relationship we embark upon, we’re greeted not just with joy, but also with warning. It could all vanish one day. Adulthood has only brought tragedy closer to our attention; we are learning to become protectors to the new waves of children in the world, as our parents did for us.

There are days when life is beautiful and coherent, when joy rushes in and brightens even the darkest aspects of our lives, yet there are days when the darkness is simply too endless to comprehend. Sometimes clichés are redundant and nothing can console those left living. Death strips us of ourselves; grief floods our very purpose of living and controls us.

For this we have our family and friends.

Yesterday, today, and forever more, we remember Kaine Bell.

"Tortured Souls."

In an article about Amy Winehouse's death, a comment noted that alongside the string of rock and roll stars who died at the age of 27, "it's not their age, but their substance abuse that killed them."

I've spent the evening with a friend considering the depths of self-destruction within relationships. She is having to deal with the substance abuse of her partner on top of dealing with first love - which is overwhelming enough. Being burdened with another person's problems is a natural part of relationships. We care about people we are close to, so naturally their problems become our own. However, when these problems are revolved around self harm, destruction and suicide, their illness is selfishly placing people under immense pressure. You become the pinnacle of their existence and happiness, and no one should ever have to be so depended on.

I believe it to be selfish to threaten your partner, family and friends with self harm if they threaten to leave or try to address your problems. While I believe it may be the illness that is dominating your perception of the world, you still have some control over your actions, and dragging over people into it.

While I believe you should reach out and heal your hurting, there are certain ways to go about it. Pulling someone into your problems with harm threats and desperate attempts to cling onto relationships only create bigger distances between people. If you admit your problems and project the kind of help you need, support and love will flow from those around you. If you drink or hurt yourself to stop temporarily feeling, the pain you averted will creep back stronger than ever before, and force itself to those you need to help you.

I don't believe that you can love to your capacity when you have a mental illness. You don't have the freedom from your emotions to love as much as others, and you use love in cruel ways. Love is not something to be used to make others feel guilty, or to be dictated when only your emotions see fit. It either is there or it is not. You cannot suppress it. You cannot use your illness to manipulate others into the blame of it, or your actions.

I suppose it all comes down to fight or flight when you attempt to deal with mental illness. Do you flee from the scene, and let your illness consume and control your emotions, actions and relationships? Or do you stand up, confront your problems, and fight like hell to kill the demons of your destruction?

That's up to you.

"Youth's A Stuff Will Not Endure."

When I was in my final year of school, we went on trips to the various uni's in our state. I remember going to Curtin in Year 12 and telling my friends and teachers that I was going to go there. It felt right. I was accepted to attend there the following year. I've always loved my uni, and can't imagine going to another one.

I'm officially back at Curtin. I can't express how thankful I am to be back wandering around the campus with a genuine feeling of inspiration and idealisation within me once more. Full time work, specifically full time work in a job I know I don't want to pursue is draining. It's as though I'm back on track once more, and I can already see my destination.

I'm still adjusting to the notion of studying for a profession, as opposed to an area. While I was studying my degree in writing, the scope for well paid careers to struggling authors to using the degree as purely a hobby was huge. It seems all discussions on furthering our studies into the workforce were never specific, whereas now the whole class are aiming for the same job. I like that.

Uni will be difficult at times, especially when I'm on prac but I'm excited for the challenge. While I know I'll grow to resent the self inflicted all nighter assignment cramming sessions, bitching at the parking and whinging about the uni's nightmare of a server, I couldn't be happier.

We did some exercises to determine if we have a brain that is more right or left hemisphere, also to appreciate when we become teachers, we have to see other learning perspectives of our students. Although I already knew it, I use a lot more of the right side of my brain, which is essentially creative and not as focused on logic and structure. It's interesting how different we can all be; though I suppose it's the mix of people that bring it all together.

A classmate said something along the lines today of: "art is so technical, yet it's based entirely on your dreams." I love that sentiment. We are infinite. Our dreams and our beliefs are only limited by ourselves. We have the power to conjure the world into the version we render suitable and inspirational enough. Thoughts manifest into ideas. And if you're artistic enough to create the impossible, we have planted the vision into those who are logical enough to create it.

With every good book I finish, poem I write, person I make smile and class I go to, I know that not only am I getting my life back, I'm on my way to making it even better than before.

My Smile.

I'm fed up of the guy in my department at work walking around as though he believes the world is out to get him, and only him. I told him, in frank terms, to cheer the fuck up. Every time I make a sale or am thanked by a customer his face betrays him. Every time he wanders into work a cloak of resentment and dismay follows him. In all honesty, it seems childish, and his misogynistic facade is offended when I tell him what to do. I don't think it stems however, from genuine feelings of depression.

I'm not making a critique on people with depression. It is a real illness, friends and family are suffering from it, and I have utmost respect for those brave enough to accept their illness and fight it. I am frustrated with those that act this way to gain pity, or to attempt to gain a shower of compliments, especially in the workplace. While he's made it abundantly clear my success of making friends easily with people at work in comparison to him, along with my fairly decent sales have angered him, by acting like his fate is forever doomed is really beginning to piss me off.

I'd probably win the "worst things you've gone through" competition with him if there were such a thing. I'm not one to usually use that sort of thing to rank what kind of character that would make me, or to test my strength. I know I am strong, I am proud of that, and I also believe that people handle situations in different severity's than others.

Not everyone is optimistic and can't help but cling to darkness. But darkness carries a bitterness you'll never rid yourself of if you don't seek help. For those who stress the tiny things in life, what does the tragedies steal from you? For the things we can shake off, move on, and forget about it.

If I don't like something, I change it. I was unhappy in a job so I quickly got a new one. I decided I wanted to further my studies so I applied immediately. The same has applied with family and friends. I've confronted people if I've had problems with them and resolved things. Too many people allow themselves to live in "okay" situations because they can't be bothered, or deem themselves unworthy of something better. So, ask yourself next time you whinge about it, why am I still doing this? If you're going to remain like that, remind yourself you chose that.

Though, value the pro's of your life before highlighting the con's. Most situations have good qualities, most people are worth fighting for. I'm happy with the people who are in my life; I've been able to lean on them especially in the last few months.

I have found through talking to family, friends, doctors and writing I have escaped from how I felt, and what it could have led me to become. For those who lock away feelings they'll never release them.

My doctor told me she thought I looked really well, and that I was doing fantastically. Through all of this, I've come to a few conclusions:

- This will not, and has not defeated me.
- I will not be ashamed of something that is not my fault.
- I will not lock away my feelings.
- I will get my life back on track.

Beneath my smile there is sadness. A sadness that is greater than you'd imagine from the girl that stands before you. But those who have tried to break my smile are not worthy of that; it is mine to keep and to share with those I wish to. For those who have caused me pain, I will defy you with my smile while you bound me, hit me, use me and discard me like you have done before, and you will be left tortured, with the image of my demented, defiant smile etched upon your mind.