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"A Small Piece of Entertainment"

I find autobiographies pathetic. Mostly. Because people seem to want to rely on their past to force others to comfort them. I know I'd do it too, because well, I know what I'm like. But I'm writing all this out to get things in order, and well, I think my life is pretty entertaining. So here I go, treading lightly, hoping this doesn't turn into another "feel for me! love me!" things that I'm quite prone to do, as you may have noticed.

But the most important thing I tell myself, is that if I stopped fighting myself for a second, then I'd collapse again. I'd give it all up, I'd lose my passion.

And the most important thing is that I'm happy with who I am, and if I have to fight myself to see that, well so be it. The most important thing is that I don't look in the mirror and see a pathetic idiot looking back at me. For the longest time I've been looking in the mirror, and not really seeing who I am.

I think I've had a very different life to most. I can't say I'm higher, or lower than anyone. Personally, I think I've developed far too fast in some areas, while others have been left pretty much undeveloped and child-like. I'm trying my best to go back and face my fears, but it's quite hard.

So that's why I'm writing this. I'm not thinking of this as a cry for help, at least, I'm trying not to. In moments of weakness I do have the tendency to pull close whatever I can find, try and find something that can comfort me. It's how I lose those that I care about, because I'm so utterly afraid of losing them, that I end up completely smothering them. I try to control myself, but well, I think I'm pretty much doomed to my fate.

But it won't stop me from trying, at the very least.

Ok.

Three months ago, I believed my name was Darren Williams. I knew certain things about myself. One of these, was that I developed meningtis when I was seven or eight, and completely lost my memory beforehand. Memories were beginning to come back to me.

And one night, I remembered something that I didn't really feel like remembering. I remembered how my parents used to argue a lot, and one day, my Dad got so angry at my mum that he threw a brick at her face. I think I've mentioned this before.

And that began to worry me. I started to think about my parents, and I realised, that in all honesty, I didn't really care about them at all. If I had been told that they had died in a car accident, I wouldn't have really been that affected. And that worried me further.

Then I started remembering more. Things like my mum going out of the house, me asking if she'd be back and her telling me she doesn't know.

And it was that point where I think I decided to myself, stop. I don't think I even want to know more about this. My parents fighting came as pretty much a complete surprise to me, and there was this feeling that this went much deeper than it seemed.

So I stopped myself. I stopped talking about it to my friends, my girlfriend, and tried to get on with trying to swap my course over. This was about December.

Fast forward to the 21st of March. Me and my girlfriend had broke up, I was finding it difficult to take. I kept trying to pull her back, trying to force her to love me. Just some more regrets, but, well, it happened, and I can't do much about it now.

We were beginning to be friends again. However, every time I sat, and I felt happy with how things were... I couldn't help but think to myself, I'm so damn messed up. More messed up than anyone thought... so, well, I tried to push her away.

The first time, I smoked. I can be needy at times, but deep down, I'm a strong person. The whole idea was to irradicate the thought that inside me, I had any strength at all. It didn't exactly go to plan, but it made a mark.

Things went on, I tried more. I knew I'd just keep running back to her... grabbing her and forcing her to comfort me. I needed a way of forcing her to just give up on me altogether.

I have the tendency of thinking of myself as a catalyst. I don't really think anyone has the capabilities to cope with me, so usually, I never let anyone get deep inside me. I'm scared, sure. But I'm scared of hurting people. And that's the last thing I want to do.

So being a catalyst is easy. People come to you for help. I think about it. I either tell them what I would do, or I manage to affect the entire relationship so things start happening again. It's not a Godly thing, it's not a power thing. I just want to help people, and most of the time I can work out how I can do that.

But if I ever get too close to someone, it becomes far too hard.

So it's the 21st of March. I can't cope with the pain I'm putting her through anymore just because I can't cope with myself. I ramble, get drunk, say a lot of silly things. Then I go out, with friends carrying cigarettes. Because I obviously can't live without them and well, I'm so needy and pathetic, it's unbelievable.

I smoked five cigarettes one after another. And it reminded me about my Grandfather... after every one, I said up to him as if he's in heaven, it's the last one, I promise.

And during that, something happened. I started thinking about my grandfather, and I remembered him lying on bed. I remembered looking into his eyes and then looking away, throwing his trust away. I asked myself why I trusted him so much, and he used to take me out to do things. And then I remembered not going to his funeral. And then, somehow, I realised he had become my father. That he was my role model, my father. And I asked myself why.

And then I remembered something that managed to click off everything else.

I remember, sitting down, and forcing myself to forget. Telling myself that the past didn't happen. That it didn't exist. And I remember really struggling... until I found something out.

And all this time I thought that I had amnesia before melingitis... but well, there's not that much of my whole life I could really remember.

One of the postaffects of melingitis was amnesia. It would work perfectly.

And when I look at everything, I realise how lucky I am. There are kids, innocent little kids who had meningitis that have to have all their limbs cut off. Kids that will never be able to feel again what it's like to touch with their finger tips, play the guitar, or... so many things. And it doesn't make me feel overjoyed to think of that, it makes me feel disgusted.

Pretty much the only thing that happened to me, was that my back became very weak. I can run about and play and do everything... but it does become very painful, and hard to cope with at times. But, well, I cope.

And that was all.

I don't know wherever to stop here and go back to the beginning, or continue on a little.

After I remembered that I had made up I had amnesia, everything came back. I can pretty much say it was everything, because of the freedom in my mind that came back almost instantly. It was... liberating, but... very hard.

I was standing in a club. Music blaring, people dancing around me jeering and smoking, and I was standing there, drunk as ever, with a cigarette in my hand. Everything suddenly made sense and I felt like forgetting it all over again.

I did the only thing I could think of at the time to do, and pushed the cigarette into my arm. I think I'm pretty glad I did that.

So... let's go back to the depths of my childhood. Still reading? Interested? Even bothered? I don't really care. I need to write about this. It won't help me forget, but to help me face the truth. Because I'd rather surround myself with people who know as much about my past as I do, and to know that they accept me for who I am. And well, those of you who've been following my life ever since I've been here, well, it might clear a few things up for you too. And maybe I can make a few of you laugh, who knows.

I don't know how old I was. The first memory I have, is me and my sister fighting. I don't know what it was about. My mum got angry at us, and beat us a bit, hit us around. Considering it's gone from me having no idea this happened, to actually remembering how much it hurt for every blow to land on my body, it's quite impressive. My mother actually broke a wooden spoon on my sister once.

And then dad would come home after work. Mum would be crying, and dad would get angry, and dad used to hit us a lot harder than mum did. There were times where my mum actually had to intervene.

So that happened quite a lot. Do I blame them? No... not at all. Before me and my sister were born, they had lost a child, my sister, Joanne. I can't imagine what it's like to lose a child, and well, if I hold anything against them for doing what they did, I don't think I'm a very mature person.

Times got worse, however. The marriage of my parents was pretty much falling apart, me and my sister having to talk to both of the parents, to calm them down, tell them everything was going to be alright and they both had to talk. My mum tried to run away many times. My dad used to hit her a lot too.

During all this, we still tried to be a happy family. We tried to keep going. My mum tried to get me and my sister into pony riding, because she couldn't afford it herself as a child. My mum basically pointed at some kids biting apples out of a bucket, then leading a horse around some poles, then asked us "Would you like to do that?" We pretty much said yes.

Me and my sister still fought a lot. She pretty much refused to look after me, which I'm kinda glad for. We used to ride ponies together, the only problem being now, is that with ponies, you get whips, and with whips, you get whipped.

During this time, I started being around my Grandfather quite a bit. He smoked, and everyone shouted at him, telling him to give it up. He told everyone he had given it up and wouldn't smoke again. Except me. He told me the truth, he told me that he still smoked, and he hated the way everyone pressured him. It was his decision.

Somehow we had developed a trust. Maybe he saw what was happening to us, how I didn't trust my parents and needed someone to be my father. Maybe he just needed someone to talk to himself. He was pretty much the only person in the world I trusted.

In school, I couldn't help but be bullied. You kinda come to expect it, don't you? Beaten at home, so something's bound to happen in class. Either he becomes a school bully, or becomes bullied himself. There wasn't a middle ground.

I chose to be bullied, I guess. Well... I didn't know really what to do. I really needed friends, and kids seem to like taking advantage of anyone who was as desperate as me.

I never really had friends. Oh boo hoo poor me, but it has affected me and that's all there is to it. I have friends now, people I know I can trust. It's wherever or not I put trust in them that's the problem.

One thing I learnt quickly, is how to lie. To make someone truly believe you, all you have to do is lie to yourself so much that you believe it, and then it's easy. I've used it too much recently, but in order for me to become whatever I want to be, it's easy. I just imagine up a past, that past is mine, and then I am that person. I imagine what it would have been like as a child for that person, then make those memories my own.

If you want to be weak, tell yourself you're weak till you believe it. If you want to be strong, tell yourself you're strong till you believe it. It's as simple as that.

I've done that a lot. I tried making up memories at first. Trying to change my past. Think to myself "oh, I was left in the woods, I was raised by a pack of hedgehogs and was rescued when I was five."

So I tried running away. I needed to push everyone away, force myself to go out on my own and try to survive... but I couldn't. I couldn't help but go back every time, after shivering to death. I'd always end up waiting for someone to find me, instead of trying to force myself on.

But you can't change the past if the present is pretty parallel to it. The only thing you can really do is get on with it. Act. Try and get attention, force others to love you. It's such an easy trap to fall into. I still do it, and everything I do I have to question. Am I doing this for attention, or am I doing this for myself?

And then, one day, it happened.

I woke up, and crawled out into the living room after falling out of bed. My mum came out, asked me what was wrong. I had gotten into the habit of pretending I was ill, taking weeks off because I was being bullied, so this wasn't abnormal. But I actually was ill, and I think it showed.

My mum rang the doctor, and I passed out. All I can do now is recite what I've been told.

I collapsed onto the floor and started fitting, puking. My dad came out, mum rang the emergency services. I tried to bite my own tongue off, so my dad pushed it back into my mouth, resulting in me almost biting his thumb off. Then I stopped breathing. Dad gave me mouth to mouth, and was still doing so when the ambulance arrived.

The first thing I said when I woke up was, "Yes, I know where I am. Can I have the Gameboy?"

My parents were talking, saying that they were either going to buy me a massive box of Commodore 64 games, or a Gameboy, when I came out of the coma.

I learnt that part of my treatment was to have a needle inserted up my spine. Quite a long one, and I think it's done me a lot of damage. I always used to think to myself, "Hang on, how do I know it was melingitis that gave me a bad back when I can't remember anything before that?"

And then, things started to get better.

Or worse, it depends how you saw it.

My parents decided that anything I wanted I could have. Perhaps guilt had settled into them, and they desperately needed to repay me. But I took a lot.

They pretty much did everything for me. Cooked, washed, cleaned, everything. And I regret that now, because I'm finding out how reliant I really am. I'm desperately trying to break free, trying to make the effort to carry myself forward, but it's not easy. Especially when my mother acts like a bloody robotic maid sometimes. The amount of times I have to tell her that I'll do things myself, I can do it, give me trust, for her to then go and do it anyway, drives me mad. Because I know if I relaxed for a second, I WOULD let her do it. But I need to learn, and I need to grow.

So I gained my strength back, and went back to school. I suddenly realised that the small group of friends I was in were hardly my friends at all.

And for the first time, we went on holiday. We went skiing, I was so happy. Everything was going to be alright.

And soon enough, my grandfather fell ill.

He really was a father to me. I watched as he slowly lowered himself into insanity. He believed he could truly change the world, and I trusted him. I really think he could have changed the world, if he had a little more time.

But he died of lung cancer. He lost his voice a few months before he died. And on the last day I saw him alive, I held his hand and looked into his eyes. And at that point I realised, I really was his only friend in the world. I was the only person he could truly trust. And I couldn't cope.

I turned away, I let go of his eyes and his hand, and I went to the window. My nan told me to look at the clouds, look at how beautiful they were, and I cried.

I was sitting in front of a computer, playing some game. My mum came in to tell me that my grandfather passed away in the morning. I told her I knew.

I didn't go to the funeral. I went to a friend's house, one from the little group that weren't really my friends at all. But well, it passed the day. It was his mother that wanted me there anyway.

So life went on. I removed myself from that little group, after they managed to get me in trouble one last time.

So I was completely alone for a while, it was probably two years. The only friend I had in these days was my pony, Billy.

I kept riding. I used to get really scared, my back would get really bad on him, and sometimes I just didn't want to ride at all.

But I did. And sometimes, I just felt so alive.

It was the same with skiing. Racing, running, being in a car. I loved to travel. To have the wind in your face, to feel everything moving so fast behind you. To never be stuck in the same place, to never be trapped.

Billy, the pony, was the second thing I really put my trust in, and he trusted me completely.

I can tell you now, to be on a wild creature galloping across fields, jumping hedges and lakes... to have complete trust in that creature, to still be scared out of your mind, but to have trust... is completely amazing. All I really did was encourage him, and steer him.

I hated people who rode with me. They were so damn pompous. They truly believed that they did all the work, they they were the ones making all the effort.

Me and Billy had the Championship at one point. We've been Champion cross country jumpers. Horse riding isn't about control, it's about encouragement. It's about belief.

And that taught me so much. Because sometimes, all you really need is gut determination, and you can do whatever the hell you want. Yeah, we won quite a few competitions, but the amount of times we were nearly disqualified for shouting "COME ON YOU F**KING BAS***D!" as we were about to try and jump something is quite amazing.

After every jump was the little celebration. He'd buck a bit, bounce around, I'd congratulate him, and in a few seconds we were off again. We didn't win because we trained night and day, because we beat him and fed him all the right stuff. We trained, sure. We worked, yes. But we won because we had trust, and I think that's what everything comes down to.

I started looking at people as if they were animals. Mostly, I found it difficult to see any good in them... but I thought myself, that I was a fox. The sort of creature that lives out in the wild, on his own, and he copes well.

But after melingitis, a side started to develop of me which I had no control over. I started losing my temper, hitting things, people, animals, anything. I destroyed chairs in temper, I broke my Gameboy by headbutting it.

I met someone, called Dafydd. Over time, we developed a good friendship. I couldn't really trust him, but he had more trust than I'd given anyone since my grandfather, bar Billy. I started learning to play the saxophone, and even though I tend to tell people I'm useless, I am actually pretty good really. :0)

Me and Dafydd would say we were going out to play tennis, hit the ball a few times, then just lay on the grass and talk. Eventually, over time, I started trying to tell him about my past... but everything I said, just made me feel as if I was just trying to make him feel sorry for me... so I stopped.

I tried to ignore the fact that I kept losing my temper. And it came to the end of GCSEs. We were playing cards, and one boy tried to break my arm, so I got an iron bar and almost killed him.

I didn't know what to do with myself. I pushed myself away from everyone. I went into A-Levels with a group of friends I could trust, but didn't. I spent all my time alone.

It was around this time where I'd found these forums. Just trying to win games really... games were a good way of letting me escape.

So I came on here, and found the sort of people I'd rather be around. Interesting, strong, witty, people who had seen this world. It wasn't that I looked down on any of my friends, it's just that... well, I got really bored.

First I came on as Monkey, and won a game. Then I went away for a bit.

I lost my temper completely. I hit people a lot, refused to let myself be near anyone. And then, one day, I almost tried to rape someone.

I stopped myself, and well, I don't think she knew what was going through my mind. But I did.

Then it happened again. I found myself unable to control myself, for some stupid reason needing sex.

I locked myself away, completely. I tried writing to take my mind off things, but I couldn't hide from the obvious fact I was turning into a monster.

So one night, I was alone, and I went to the bathroom. Life was hard, sure. Life's always hard and I'll never kill myself for that reason. In all honesty, I've never really wanted to commit suicide because I find life hard. I tell lots of people I did it for attention, because I can't cope... but when it comes down to it... I just don't want to let myself live in this world. I was too afraid of one day losing control completely.

I put paper down to soak up the blood. I held a knife to my chest, over my heart. I didn't just want to die, I wanted to suffer. I wanted to put myself through what I could have done to this people. I wasn't killing myself, I was slaying a monster.

And it depends how you look at it, but I looked into my eyes. I looked into my eyes and forced myself to trust myself. I knew I just had to keep going. There must be something I can do for this world. I have to trust that I can keep control, at all times. And anyway, mum would only have to clean up the blood.

So I tried to stop being Darren Williams. I started writing a book called "The Legacy of Fate." I pretty much stopped writing it when a boy took it out of my bag, and read it aloud to everyone, resulting in me having to stop myself from throwing a coke can at his face. As you can imagine, everyone was scared of me.

I had made up a character called 'Grix Thraves'. Grix Thraves began life as the leader of a group of bounty hunters, who in fact used these people for a greater purpose, the complete overhaul of humanity.

I liked Grix the most out of all my characters. He would never show emotion, he was a liar, but he had a good heart. He didn't really want to hurt anyone, but he would if he needed to. He was a fox, complete. A wild animal that lived in solitude, relied on no-one but himself.

I decided that Darren Williams doesn't deserve to exist. Darren Williams is dead. In fact, I wanted to wipe my memory, completely. Start again. Pretend nothing happened.

I found out that sometimes, after having meningitis, people developed amnesia. It would provide a good backing story, for anytime anyone asked about my past. That way, I could pretend it never happened, and not worry people if I just said "I don't want to talk about it".

So I started forcing myself to forget. I remember making myself forget, distinctly, telling myself over and over it didn't happen, that I forgot it all.

And, to coin a phrase, that's where the voice in my head started. A constant nagging voice, telling me to keep believing I was Grix.

So I came back to SR. I didn't just adopt the name, I adopted the personality. I wanted to become this person, this wonderful person who never let any emotion get to him. He was calm, collected, and could think through any problem perfectly.

And somehow people believed me. Many saw straight through me, but I managed to find many people who saw me as a hero... people who would turn to me for help, turn to me for advice, strength, anything. And that felt... amazing. I felt like I had become a superhero, that I could save people in need.

And it was about -this- time that I found a lump on myself, which I thought was cancer.

I didn't know anything about cancer, and there was no-one I could turn to. There wasn't anyone left that I could really trust, and considering it was testicular cancer, it wasn't exactly easy to turn around to class friends.

I had distanced from my parents almost completely. I thought every day would be my last day on Earth, and I KNEW I'd be dead by the end of the year.

One day, in Physics, I completely broke down. I hadn't done my homework, and I just couldn't cope. I collapsed on the table and cried my eyes out. I told him what was going on, and he told me to go talk to my parents.

So a week later, I did. I kept talking to my physics teacher, and my friends teased me that I was having a gay relationship with him. I simply said "Yeah, I am", and never told them anything.

And that little nagging voice I forced myself to have in my head started telling me I was worthless. That I'd be dead soon. You might as well do what you like, you'd be dead before the prison sentence is over.

I thought, you know, I can go into the doctors now, he can look at me, say "Nah, it's not cancer", then that'll be all done. It took eight or nine months for me to finally get that answer. I couldn't turn to anyone, I wouldn't let myself. I desperately needed support but I couldn't allow myself to be comforted. I didn't want to go to my parents and tell them in the simple fear that they'd hold me and kiss me better. I didn't want that, and I never have... I just need support. Just to be asked how I am, so I can say "Well, life's hard, but I'm coping", so they can reply "Well, good, we're here for you if you need us".

I realised how important it was for me to face my fears. I was always scared of the water. I was held under the sea for a while as a kid, swallowed water up my nose, couldn't breathe, thought I was going to be murdered, that sort of thing. So I came with my dad to start scuba diving.

And that went well, because I started to gain more trust in my dad. You need two people for scuba diving. To be honest, I'm uncomfortable every time I go diving with my dad... but it's getting better. I do have some amount of trust in him, and he trusts me, to an extent.

I'll never have the relationship I'd want with him, but never mind. It's the same with my mother. I can't tell her anything, for fear of her worrying. When I look at it all, it's quite obvious how alone I really am.

And then I met Katie.

Katie and Gaz were going out, and had recently spilt. I met both of them on these forums. I was surprised at how fantastic a writer she was, so wanted to talk to her, simply because I wanted her to stay here, it'd really add to the forums.

So I started talking and tried to come up with another little plan. They'd fallen out, and the idea was to get them back together again.

The idea went as this. I'd keep talking to Katie, spend lots of time with her, then when I truly believed that Gaz thought he was losing her to me, I'd just go up to him and say "Christ, she really, really bloody annoys me... she won't stop speaking to me, God... No, I can't stand her, I just don't want to hurt her feelings..."

Then of course, he'd realise how much he really loved her or whatever, and then they'd get back together.

Of course, something went wrong. Because I didn't hate her at all. In fact, talking to her was the happiest I'd ever been. She made me happy, she challenged me.

So I didn't know what to do. In the end, we couldn't help but be together.

I went to a club thing. A girl was going around, asking for numbers. I gave her mine, watched her walk off. I was pretty chuffed with myself, until I found out that she was just collecting them.

She came up to me again later, said I looked lonely and she wanted to buy me a drink. So she bought me one, I took it, then asked how many numbers she'd got so far and smiled. She laughed, smiled, and walked off.

So I told that to Katie, so she asked me for my number.

The longest I've ever been on a phone before I met Katie was a few minutes. I hated using the phone... it's only to people I truly trust that I can be relaxed with it. The longest I've been on the phone to Katie is about seven to eight hours, I think. I forget.

It equalled out at about three hours a night, every night. She lived in West Essex, and I lived in West Wales. Wasn't the largest of distances, but still.

Katie decided that she'd rather have someone close to her, because she was young and needed the experience. It was hard to take, but I understood.

I felt very low. I felt like killing myself, and I started thinking about everything I've done. How much of a monster I was. At first I felt like trying to kill myself so people would come and love me... but it changed, quickly.

I've told people the first attempt was for real and the second was just for attention, but that's a lie. Both were very real. The second felt much more liberating. As if I had finally, FINALLY found the courage to take myself away.

Because I'd thought to myself. All this love, all I could do... the people I care for, one day, I will end up hurting. And I don't want to go through with that. If there's the slightest, slightest of worries that I might hurt someone, then I want nothing to do with it.

But Katie appeared, and all my courage just fell straight through my heart and out my feet. She rang me, she cried. I couldn't believe myself... what was I doing? All I try, all I ever try to do, I always end up hurting people, no matter what.

I really didn't know what to do. With myself, with my life, anything. To be honest, I thought I'd just have a go at something. I'd probably kill myself before it got too boring anyway.

I looked for courses. I desperately wanted a design course, but... to have found this amazing person, someone who made me happier than anything before or after, I thought well, let's try and move to Essex.

So I did, doing a preliminary course for a computer games design degree. Which I hated from start to finish. There was NO design involved, simply teaching maths, engineering. It bored me to death.

And it began to depress me. A lot. I lost hope in my abilities, in what I really wanted to do. For the past year or so I'd been animating, and that made me happy. It made me happy to think that I could entertain people, that I could give them the hope they needed, something to look to and think "Yes!", to think that the world isn't that bad after all.

And I lost all the work I did, more than a years solid work lost. It hit me, but I refused to let myself get downhearted. I was writing a new story, I could animate that instead.

I started losing hope in myself. I couldn't understand why Katie loved me... I just couldn't trust her feelings. How could she possibly love me, I knew how much of a monster I was... I had told Katie what had happened... but I'd never really talked to her about it. I was happy to live in my amnesia bubble.

And so we started to drift apart. It was my fault, pretty much completely. Sure, at some points she made it difficult, but the problem is myself, and always will be.

Then, one night, she wanted for us to go on a break. At first it was ok, I could understand. But I tried to cope on my own, and I couldn't.

I broke down, and so did she. We kept running back to each other and we didn't know what to do. In the end, we both seemed to realise, the only way we could really push each other apart was to find weakness in each other, and exploit it.

We both attacked each other. We couldn't live like this, it was too hard. We basically played with each other... and like fools we let ourselves be played with. And something happened during it all.

I started to realise that I didn't really need Katie at all. I'd become dependent on her... and I trapped her, I really did. And I wish I hadn't have done that, but I know I'll just keep doing it over, and over again...

I didn't need her. I just wanted her. I wanted her more than anything. And I began to realise what love really is. It's not about comfort, about having someone there to protect you... she was just the most beautiful person I'd ever met, she could make me happier than anyone alive, and... I was completely destroying her.

She had already convinced herself that I just loved her for the comfort. All I really needed to do was put that down in truth.

I lost my hope, I let myself hurt her. I let myself disappoint her. I needed to push her away, hurt her as much as I could.

And last friday, I pulled the last straw, and I broke free.

But now... it just feels like I've thrown away true love. As if it took me all that crap to work out just what love is. I can get hurt in life, I know that. But it just makes me stronger.

To find such a beautiful flawed diamond, and to be able to see every single little glimmer in that, is quite hard to throw away. But I did. I'm not sure if that makes me a strong person, or just plain foolish.

I've moved back to Wales now. I quit my course, and now I'm going on to do a foundation course in Art, to develop my visual communication. If there's one thing that truly makes me happy, it's to entertain. To make people smile, laugh. Sometimes maybe you can make them cry too, but only for the greater good.

I have too many regrets. But I can't hide from them. It's took me ten years to stop myself from hiding from myself. I felt like I've been walking in my own shadow.

All I can do now is look just in front of my feet. Just to make sure I don't step in any dog poo, you know. If I meet a cliff, I guess I'll turn around, I don't really feel like jumping now.

And I've been writing again. I've gone back to my imagination, creating characters from my experiences. I'm so proud of this, prouder than anything I've ever created.

And well, there are beautiful people in this world. So many, many beautiful wonderful people, and this forum is full of them. I can't look after them all, I can't care for every last one of them, but I can try and get my voice as loud and clear in this air as I possibly can. If I can just make one beautiful person smile, then I've done well. But I have to keep going. There's no target, there's no destination, there's no finish. One day I'll die, and that's all there is to it. Until then, until I'm here no longer, all I can do is try to make you smile. Try and lift your spirits and try to keep you all going as long as I damn well can.

And if you find life hard, then perhaps I can make you smile. And if you find life tough, then I could make you laugh. And if you're so damn happy, perhaps I can make you cry with delight.

Perhaps I can show you how much beauty there is in this world. Because sometimes, it's really not easy to see.

I'm definitely not the most perfect person in the world, and to be honest, I'd probably say I'm one of the most flawed, but well, I try my best to make up for that. Not to make others love me, not to prove to anyone, just to prove to myself. Just to keep me going, and just to make me happy.

Because the thing that makes me happier than anything in the world, is to just make someone smile. To make them laugh. Not to affect them in every way possible... but, just to make them happy.

So well, you don't really need to know about my own problems. Maybe I'll need support some time, and maybe I'll need a bit of a pick me up... but all I need to do is entertain.

So well, if you've been entertained by my little story, I'm very happy. Thanks for reading, if you did.

Can I just say, I only just read this post. I read all the replies first though just to get a quick idea..!

Now I've forgotton what other people have written because of what you wrote. I don't think I can write anything to explain what I'm thinking about this post.

It's the best thing I have read since.. forever. Honest.
I really enjoyed it. I'm not saying I'm happy because you have suffered. But I really did enjoy it. It made SO much sense!

I've pretty much tried to keep up-to-date with your life as it has been revealed to me. It's fairly interesting, at least take some comfort in the fact that you have something to talk about.

No, that sounds too harsh, I know, but in a way your past is what defines you, not in the way that most people think though. You past does not make you what you are based on the things you have done/seen. It makes you what you are because of the choices you made, the experience you have gained and the people you have known.

Great military leaders (are there any of those still around? I think not) always won battles based on their knowledge of previous battles, this is what you seem to have been doing. Learning how to beat your own system.

But, in the end we are human, even those that think of themselves as aliens are human, because human is a word that does not define the race of people on Earth, but a person with feelings and emotion, someone who does not act on cold calculation alone. You are that person.

I will always see a part of you as Grix, and you are, as you say, a mix of these people now. But I believe you always have been. There are elements of the writer in every book and Grix seems to have been an important element of your writing, so it's easy and logical to accept that he has also always been part of you.

You know that you can count on me, as with other people you have met, I can't convince you of that, but it's true. I wish you luck in anything you decide to do, but know that your past, however bitter or sweet, helps you to face your future.

Damn this is a long post, damn!

Grix Thraves wrote:
> I really would give my mind a holiday, but, to be perfectly honest...
> err... how? :0)


No sure, perhaps by repeatedly telling yourself you're doing so until you start to believe it? ;)

MoJoJoJo wrote:

> And Meka, you still pay by the minute for your connection? I thought
> most people in the country by now had one of those Freeserve or BT
> deals.

Yeah, I did the math. It's cheaper this way. Most months.

It really has made me think a bit aout my life. I can see where you're coming from on most things and I think I've gained a little bit more of an understanding of my life by reading what you've revealed. It really has made me think, which is a rare thing for me to do.

I came to the forums in October 2000. I remember it clearly it was a week off school and I wanted to win a game. I was new to the internet and was well very irritating and stuff with little attention span. I remember asking you many questions and thought you had a cool name. I probably would have left if it wasn't for you, Ant and Sniper. I'm glad I never left because I think these forums have greatly helped and matured me over the years and I think you're one of the most intelligent, interesting and kind etc people that I've ever talked to.

It's a shame I live ages away from you because I'd like to be friends with you and stuff

Anyway, I'm dying of the cold and should be in bed and studying for a History essay.

Great post by the way

Grix Thraves wrote:
People have a serious amount of trouble understanding what I say, I mumble and pronounce things wrong every so often.

---------

The fact that you're Welsh can't help when talking to some people.

And Meka, you still pay by the minute for your connection? I thought most people in the country by now had one of those Freeserve or BT deals.

Ok. Just read it and all I can say is thank you for this oppurtunity to see your life. The insight evoked many reactions and emotions in me and is probably one of the best posts I have read in a long long time.

Thankyou again.

I really would give my mind a holiday, but, to be perfectly honest... err... how? :0)

At least now I think of both sides of me as the same person... we both have the same pasts now, at least.

What I truly want in the world is to be with someone that I can completely trust, and I was ready for that... but well, I'm not exactly easy to cope with. Christ, you know what I'm like on here... imagine getting that 24/7.

I'm going to need all the luck in the world to find someone with the patience to cope with me AND actually love me, and to be honest, I'm not keeping my hopes high.