An extract from my memoire.

Chapter One: Mutism.

Honestly, I don’t like it when people call me out for being quiet. So, what if I’m quiet? Personally, I dislike myself for not talking as much as other people do. But I also enjoy my quietness. It allows me to be aware of my surroundings. I don’t think I was always as mute as I am these days. I’d say I’d wonder about why this has happened, but that would be a lie. I’d have thought of a reply, and would have said it, then forget about acting on the task. Simply for one reason; I cannot remember the past. Not like other people can do, as I think back now, I can’t imagine what I was doing at certain ages, the only things I remember relate to the time around my mums illness. My mum died when I was 12 years old in 2012. Year 8 in Broadgreen School. I’m not certain but if I were a betting man, I’d bet that that event made me into more of a recluse and sent me down a path that has accumulated to where I am today. A close friend recently said to me that I couldn’t hold a conversation for 6 hours. I used to be able to, and I’m disappointed in myself that I no longer can. I haven’t seen that version of myself in a very very long time.

I enjoy listening to people talk about anything. I’m a great listener, or I try to be. I get told infrequently that I’m a good friend because I’m a good listener. It makes me happy to hear that since I want to be helpful, polite, and good mannered around people. I don’t know why people enjoy my company these days, since I’m such a shit communicator. Is it because I used to be a unique friend to people? And they want to keep me around to remind them of the old times? Or is it because they can’t get rid of me because they see that they’re the only ones I have in this world except Leo. Don’t worry to much about that little paranoia outburst guys if you’re reading this. I know you’re my ride and die mofuckas; it’s just my anxiety.

I guess to be honest at times I simply do not know what to say to the person I am engaged in a conversation with. It’s a problem and as I usually do with problems, I leave them to fester. Perhaps writing these memoirs will assist me in knowing what to say. Who knows? Not knowing what to say in situations has fucked me over many times. I’d probably have a girlfriend if I knew how to engage in conversation with the opposite sex. It’s a problem I’ve had all my life and I’m absolutely fed up of it. But it’s not just not knowing what to say to people, it’s the anxiety around people and the anxiety of me not wanting to come across as weird or a freak. I want to come across as a cool, chill guy that seems confident. Instead I feel at this time I come across as a unkempt depressive victim who is lonely and desperate. I forgot to add fat. Don’t forget my fatness. I guess you could say I have a deep insecurity of not wanting to be seen as wrong in the eyes of the person I am trying to engage with. I want to connect to people, but I need to realise that not everyone should be connected with. Some people you should not waste your own energy on. This is a fault that I need to work on and I am. A great close friend told me this.