Rightio, guys! Welcome to my world! It's great in here, albeit the landscapes may appear a little cerebral and neurotic sometimes. I lead the fine young life of an Irish student. Yes, student life is... well, chaotic. Effective organisation is always precluded by the necessities of student life (i.e. sleeping erratic hours, inconsistently meeting inconsistent deadlines, and an all-round simultaneous lack of planning and spontaneity). I am doing what I love (that's binge-reading on metaphysics and critical theory and writing highfalutin essays on it all), and even if it doesn't make me happy, that's okay, because I'm doing the right thing with my life right now. Clarity helps.

Happiness (whatever it is) is a thoroughly overused term these days. Why on earth should I be happy just because I have everything and my life is pretty darn good?! 'Erm... perhaps because you have everything and your life is pretty darn good...?' This is called circular reasoning, a logical fallacy. In fact, the entire pursuit of happiness in itself is both illogical and pointless. For a fact, nothing makes me happy. Ought I be stricken now by an avalanche of guilt? Not really. It's okay to feel whatever you feel and it is absolutely ridiculous to feel what someone else (or society, in fact) tells you to feel, because that's even more absurd that not feeling good, when life's good. In fact, the pursuit of happiness makes people depressed, because it's cheating logic and breaking down the faculties we rely on to make clear distinctions between things!

I like my life. I don't like my depression. I live life with depression. I do not live a depressed life. When I am really depressed I am not living my life, but this has nothing to do with my life and everything to do with my depression. It is important when I am very depressed to never wish my depression to end, because this would mean ending my life. And I like my life. It is much more likable than my depression. It only makes sense to say, then, that I like my life more than I can ever dislike my depression, because depression requires life in order to exist and wishing my life to end because it will end my depression is completely absurd, because it denies the origin of depression, which is not life, but absurdity. Yes, depression is absurd, but life is not and in order to affirm what is true and meaningful (i.e. the fact that depression is absurd) we must affirm life.

Of course, it may appear to be problematic when philosophers say that life is absurd and melancholia is a natural reaction to the absurdity of life. This may be true (and if it is it becomes difficult to distinguish depression from life), but even these philosophers find a way of affirming life, even if only in spite. For Camus, absurdity must be affirmed because our lucidity is the basis of all that we have. According to him, we must continue to push the boulder up the hill knowing it will fall back down, because acknowledging the pointlessness of this task liberates us to accept it. For Kierkegaard, it is defiance: rejection of help or escape which gives us strength to be our own and endure. For Nietzsche, life, suffering and all the tragedy in the world must be relished in order to rise above the adversity of slavery and become masters of ourselves through strength and creativity.

So 2 weeks have gone by already. The 12 induction days are now over, what a relief ! I can still remember how I was living this, how days went by so slowly, with those 2 ‘girls’, those 2 bi*ches ‘rendering ‘ my life hell. Today, while we were on our meth doctor’s rendez-vous or consultation, one of my ex-induction friends (i accept to employ the word ‘friend’ here, how kind of me!) was talking over to me and that conversation TOOK ME BACK TO THE DAYS! Yes, back to the 12 induction days when we were all together, ha! To cut this story short (since I’m not writing about this today, some other day maybe…), I’m just glad I made it out! I imagined two more days with these animals in that cacophonic jukebox, that cacophonic cage, and I would have hung myself out dry, shyiiit. Believe it or not, I even made a rope out of my blanket, ready to be used… “Anytime!” I mumbled, without even shedding a tear, not even afraid of dying, well it was just for a few minutes, since that feeling quickly got out of me.

So today, when I went over to my meth doctor on consultation, the latter asked me if all’s well, if I didn’t get any side effects from my methadone or if I encountered any craving during my first week out and if I’m happy with my current meth dose. Well I told him the truth, nothing but the plain truth: every morning, I would wake up with my yawnings and running nose well, not as much as the time when I was addicted to heroin like back in the days LOL, but I’m not supposed to get any of this, not even an inch of all this ! My body was not on top mode, which is true as compared to the days when I was on induction. Even if I didn’t sleep at that time, my bosy was not as torn as it is now; we had less physical activities, less thinking to do and most of all, no stress at all, no phone ringing, no email to check, no meeting, nothing! As on my current life situation, when all’s back on other than the heroin cravings gone, I would have to, for instance, assist my parents in cleaning their yards, yes yards with an ‘s’. The truth? Well, I prefer to stay at work premises rather than spend a day home when my parents are at home as well since there would always be somewhere to go, something to do, no rest at all. And the days where we have nothing to do (meaning no cleaning or house chores), well, we would spend the days at the beach swimming and running on the beach. And I’d be all cranked up the next day at work, body all messed up, cramps, etc…

So I told all this to my meth doc and the latter just thought that was gibberish, from what I could conclude. The first thing he would mention was that I didn’t do as much physical efforts in an office, forgetting the fact that office is a part of my life. He said he would raise my daily meth dose but the question remains, since he didn’t write anything in front of me, and that’s quite discouraging.

Because then, the devil would lurk around me and maybe at a later stage, push me back on the streets who knows?? I know very well that a higher meth dose (maybe a 5ml raise might do to start with) is not recommended. Is it not better to be on a relatively higher meth dose than to hit back the streets ?

Think about it !

WHERE TO START????....OH YEAH, ZEE BEGINNING, LOL>>>>>>>>>> THIS IS LOOOOONG!
Im 23, got diagnosed a month ago after a FAILED suicide attempt....

The day I tried to kill myself was mothers day, it triggered so much and after a telephone conversation with my dad where he was basically telling me to be more open with him, I just lost it.....

I was repeatedly raped from age 6 to 9 by 3 men who some how decided to make me their toy....my biological mother is what you call a ''SHEBEEN QUEEN". She was that drunk lady down you street you always heard stories about, from the many men who come in and out of her house, poor condition of the house and how her kids just had to deal with all this......*depends on where u grew up*.....anyways, she wasnt around most nights and during the day she either slept or tried to fight off her hang over....it felt normal for me, living like that, I didnt know there was any other way a family lived but it all changed when I met my father, at 6 years old......I didnt know I had a father till I met him, I never questioned who my daddy was because I ddnt know what a daddy was........

life was a bit different during the small occassions he would come and buy me gifts, "ILL NEVER FORGET MY 1ST BIKE"....i felt somehow loved when he bought me stuff and gave my mother money and 3 out of 7 nights we had food to eat at home......I really loved my father......school for me is a blur, dont know why, I had different recollections of certain events but its like i slept whenever I went to school and woke up when it was over.......I remember the 3 men who did things to me and threatened me repeatedly but somehow I dont remember doing homework and writing tests at that age.........
I was around 9 when i started visiting my father during school holidays and eventually met my step mother and older brother. i remember how kind and gentle my step mom was and how I tried to sleep with my older brother when I was 9 and how the nanny caught me naked on the floor and my brother standing by the door looking confused..........that episode was not shared with my father or step mother.......I thought all boys touched girls the way the 3 men touched me.......

anyways, long story short, my step mom was a social worker who noticed my weird behaviour around my brother and other male siblings, I dont know how I acted weird as I have never asked ..........my step mom had to literally hit me for me to tell her about the 3 men back at home....I got taken away from my mother and out in a place of safety after many questions and cross examinations.......that year was the best, I had soo much fun, even though I started being a bully........

a year later I started living with my father, wasnt allowed to talk aor see my biological mother and thats when my step mom became "the grinch".......i wasnt allowed to sit alone with my dad and my brother mostly lived with his biological mother.......LONG STORY SHORT: my step mom was emotionally and physically abusing me and my father being a busy business man was not around all the time.....I acted out by bullying kids at school and got into lots of trouble and went from a star student to a barely passing student.....somehow i did well in school when I was living with my mother and when I was at the place of safety.......anyways, I mostly bullied boys, started hating them, purberty came and i hated them more as I ddnt understand why my body was changing and "crushes"........

High school came along and I was put into a boarding school, learnt about sex, drugs and alcohol......my dad was very strict, wasnt allowed to have friends over when i was in primary......my dad did hit me many times when i got into trouble, its his way of discipline....anyways, I failed 1 year in high school barely made it out alive, developed many eating disorders and was obese by the time I finished high school............made friends, and i did love being away...

[ Continued ]

I am a sixteen year old female who is sexually attracted to her own mother. I'm incredibly ashamed of it and I have no idea why I feel this way. I don't find her attractive. And I've actually had an absolutely horrible relationship with her ever since i was 13 and I cannot stand the woman.
Honestly, the relationship is so horrible. I have trouble hearing her voice without getting incredibly pissed off. But recently I've been getting so angry, that I actually become turned on. Now, the littlest things she does that used to make me so angry, now turn me on. For example, the way she handles everything so delicately, how soft her voice is...ect. ect.

I've been feeling this way for about 6 months and its been progressively getting worse. Now I find it invading my thoughts, and being on my mind frequently.
I have struggled with OCD in the past... Obsessive thoughts about things such as incest and bestiality .. but I've never had problems with obsessive thinking AND erotic feelings.

Please. help. I've attempted suicide because of this, and I haven't been able to bring myself to tell my therapist or psychiatrist.
I have looked on some forums saying that feeling sexually attracted to a family member is more common than people realize... which makes me feel a little bit better.

But I would like to know why on earth do I feel this way? And how can I make it go away?

Hi I need to list a blog but want to make sure tigers listed in the correct section so as it yo upset anyone. How do I do this ?