Trademark Disney

I erm, I didn't actually think I'd ever write in this again.
I thought that my life didn't need etching down onto a screen no one sees and I didn't know how big a difference half a year can make.
How very naive.
When I was a kid I watched the Disney films. The ones where good triumphs over evil and the hero beats the villain and wins the girl. Those epic stories that are based on, celebrate real life.
Now I know there are no such things as happy endings.
Perhaps I'm the evil, perhaps I'm the villain.
At 5 years old I never thought that would be the case.
I thought I would live long and happy. Travel the world, go to uni and make a million pounds.
At 18 I can't bear opening my eyes.
I was naive to think I was the good in it all, the hero. I was naive to think of Happy Endings and long lives.
Mine's wasted. Washed ashore on a beach plunged in wasted human lives.
I'm a dramatist I know, but a point is to be made from all this.
Where once I terrorised all and believed in myself, I now see past my ignorance. I am human, I made mistakes. But I suffered from them too. I myself am a mistake. A choice no one chose. Perhaps a metaphor for my life. I bring grief and trouble to wherever I rest my feet. Through no fault of my own, I am the person I dreamt of defeating as a kid.
I'm an unhappy human being. Always have been, always will.
I love life don't get me wrong.
Walks along the beach and forbidden loves and Family Guy.
But people need to stop telling me it'll be okay.
It won't.
I accept that, so I take a deep breath and just keep playing the villain.
There's no such thing as a Happy Ending.

The Follow Up

I've probably left it a little too long for this to be humorous, and the majority of you have possibly forgotten now, but here goes.

My last post lamented and predicted my possible future alcoholism. A life of misery and hopelessness. A never ending cycle of dejection and rejection, turning from face to face and never receiving a shimmer of hope.
It was all tongue in cheek of course. I am not resigning myself to a life of Scrouge quite yet. I am 18 years old and I have a future to plan and work for.
I am a highly ambitious individual. I imagine fast cars and expensive drinks and penthouse apartments, and I will do anything to realise those dreams. Ever since I was a little boy I have longed to send my family off on holiday, buy everyone a house, make sure that they are all happy and comfortable. For my mother, that is the least she is owed. We do not always get on, but sometimes the most similar of personalities just do not connect. She is as stubborn, as hard-working, as driven, as committed, as ruthless, as intuitive and as cunning as I am. And thus over the years the similarities between us have been the cause of our drift.
But she's put up with my mood swings and my callls home from school, and my recklessness and short temper, my low self esteem and offhandedness, my unsympathetic, cold personality. She, has for 18 years been the one person to fully put up with all my mistakes and wrong doings. The one person that for one hour can be so uncontrollably angry at me, then the next understand that I am only human and will teach me lessons that will prove invaluable.
And so it is for my mother that I will never become an alcoholic. She put up with my fathers pill-popping, whisky necking and reckless spending. And I promised to my mother that I will never be like him.

I have dreams and ambitions of making it big. Every spare moment I have I write music and learn all I can that one day I will go to an estate agent and buy my mother a house.
It is all for me and all for her.

For the sake of creativity I envisaged a life of alcoholism and depression.

That is not my mother and thus it is not and will not be me.

So one day I can sit back in my recording studio and it will be all down to my mothers patience and encouragement that I made it there alive.

I may not make it big, but I will still owe everything to her.

Welcome to the Family

The Reasons Why I'm a Future Alcoholic

Life sucks.
Everybody knows that and so it is hard to maintain any sense of optimism unless you're Emily Porter. (No disrespect Emily, that's a compliment.)
Those optimistic people could have suffered the worst; lost their job, their home may have burnt down, they could have been anally raped several times in the showers at the gym, they could come home to find their girlfriend in bed with Susan Boyle, and their pet Gerbil may have suddenly spontaneously combusted thus leading to their house fire, and yet the smile on that persons face will not waver.
I envy you positive people.
I find it hard to positive about anything, I've experienced too much in such a short time that tells me all hope is lost. Liverpool will never win the league, I will never get a full time job/girlfriend/ flat, and they will never make the sequel to Planet of the Apes with Mark Wahlberg that they promised like 10 fucking years ago.
Alcohol, however, has led me to the lighter side of life, the hopeful side on many occasions. It is my point of refuge on those nights where you really have lost all hope. Many times it has made things a lot worse, but it felt good at the time so you learn to move on and live.
See, I find it hard to keep friends. I'm such a rude, bitchy person that people just grow sick of my despicableness and disappear, and I don't blame them. Alcohol makes me friendly.
I find it hard to maintain relationships, girls either get sick of looking at my ugly face, or they realise just how boring a person I am. Alcohol makes me fun.
I lack motivation and so I get bored of things quickly, taking weeks off at the gym because I find it too much effort. Alcohol makes me exercise.
I'm finding it difficult to find a job, my fussiness and desperation to earn a certain amount and doing certain jobs means I am falling behind and not earning enough. Alcohol makes me less fussy.

I am 18 years old. Free, single and earning a decent amount. I should be happy, but the way I am, the way my personality runs means I end up as grumpy, as moody as a 70 year old menopausal woman. Alcohol makes me feel alive and it gives me a perfectly good reason to act like the 18 year old I am.
It's probably not the best thing to rely on, but right now it works.
I'll probably find life harder than most and so this is why I'm a future alcoholic.




Follow me on Twitter: @itsjoshpennock

Midnight Dreaming

I just went outside and looked at the stars.
God knows why.
I think I went outside to wish upon them.
God knows why.
I wouldn't know where to begin.

People often say that young people don't know what love is.
Well believe me, they do.
They know that endless, heart-breaking hurt of being in love.
Those smiles of joy, when inside they are slowly dying.
They cannot see a life beyond their one love, their girl that they will go to the end of the world for, march through the gates of Hell for.
To die for.
I know what love is.
"You didn't love her Joshy"
Yes, Yes I did.
I will not forget her until the final breath leaves my body and my eyelids close and my brain stops dead.
That final image of her smiling face, her voice, her hair and eyes and nose and lips and hands just her smile.
But ask me to define a broken-heart and I cannot tell you.
Because I cannot think.
To suffer a broken-heart is to live in death.

Maybe I'm midnight dreaming.
Maybe the beer is getting to my head.

Or maybe I knew what love was.

But tonight, I can gaze upon that endless sky and I can dream of times that have been and times that are to come and I can hope as any man, woman and child can hope, that those hours lying awake at night and dreaming, just dreaming, were not all in vain.
That I am okay. That what I dream for will someday come true.

Just Dream.

For Me

It was a January afternoon, just after school. One of those afternoons that you hate, you know, dark foreboding clouds and a tiredness within yourself after a long, long day. I was riding the bus home, the same bus, the same time I do every single day. Only this time an old friend from my old school got on with me, and we laughed and we talked and we caught up on everything we missed after our GCSE's. He spoke of his girlfriend and I congratulated him and said: "God, you're so lucky, I wish I had a relationship like that" to which he replied, jokingly: "Ahh Josh, sorry mate but people like you don't ever find love and happiness!" And he laughed.

Don't ever find love and happiness.

I laughed with him, whilst inside that last bit of hope inside me, it just melted away. The wife and the kids and the life I'd always dreamed of, one by one just vanished. Because I knew he was right.
I've had some close calls, times when I genuinely was happy, times when I genuinely thought I was in love, and maybe I was. But each time my heart was broken, through a fault of my own, or not.
Love is something so hard to find.
But happiness right? Surely happiness isn't so hard to pursue?
I have a good job and good friends, I'm healthy and wealthy, but am I happy?

I don't want you to waste your happiness. That's what I'm saying. For some people it just comes naturally, and I envy those people, my personality doesn't allow me to be happy. My DNA. My destiny.
Perhaps God doesn't want me happy and in love? I may never know, but you are not me.
So live with a smile on your face, please. For me.

Childhood

I wanted to be an Astronaut when I was younger.

I would sit on my bed at night and open the curtains and stare at the night sky; the stars, the moon and I'd dream.

The first Briton on the moon, the youngest Astronaut ever, the aspirations of a child.

Childhood

I remember the summer holidays. The end of school, the beginning of adventure.

The endless football games, the beating sun and freedom we so enjoyed.

We'd start our games at 12 and not go home until dark.

The thrill of competition, the sweat, the striking of the ball and the bulge of the net, the freedom.

I remember the "relationships" that would only last a day. Getting your friends to talk to the girls, barter and debate on what one to go out with. The hugging because we were forced to and not even considering kissing her.The pretence of freedom

I remember Gameboy colours and Sega Dreamcasts and Little Tikes cars and Lego and panicking over the 6 times table because it was the hardest thing you'd ever learnt. I remember Sunny D and running up the stairs the second you turned the light off, because you knew something would chase you as the light disappeared. I remember the sleepless nights on Christmas Eve or the night before my birthday, the anticipation of the day to come, and the despair when it was over. I remember going on the computer just to use paint and the worst word you could ever possibly say was "Bloody Hell." I remember Busted and Blue and Westlife and I remember Fairly Odd Parents and the Thornberries and Rugrats. I remember a late night being 9 O'clock and pretending to get drunk on J20. I remember candy cigarettes and dressing to play outside.

I remember telling mum everything and not having to worry about what to wear or what to say.

I remember when I would argue with friends and then make up the next day, and the biggest problem was wondering how long I would get to play football at lunch.

But I couldn't wait to grow up.

To learn to drive and have a job and buy whatever the hell I liked and to own my own house and get married and live happily ever after.

To get to bed when I wanted and dress how I liked. To be free of exams and teachers and timetables and homework.

To go on holiday to the most beautiful places and to never tire of the sunset along the beach.

To drive and drive and drive until I couldn't drive any farther. 

To do whatever I wanted to do, because I had grown up.

I didn't think of the despair.

I didn't think about the failures and the detentions and the U's in the mocks.

I didn't think about the "Josh you're on your last chance now" and the humiliation of ignorance.

I didn't think about the pressures of fashion, "What you wear is who you are" But who am I?

I didn't think about the overtime and extra shifts and the tax. 

I didn't think about the 11PM finishes and the lifting and the talking and the serving.

I didn't think about the dangers of alcohol and drugs and love.

I didn't think about the nights lost in the gulp of a beer.

I didn't think about the loss of friends.

I didn't think about the loneliness.

I didn't think about the heartbreaks.

I didn't think that love could be so hard.

I didn't think that life could be so hard.

I didn't think about the childhood I lost, wishing for my childhood to be lost.

I wish I'd stayed young forever.

How stupid were we to wish our lives away? To wish for a future so bright and open, that only ends as we can't imagine.

How stupid was I?

Hindsight is a funny old thing.

I'm only 17

  

Bridges and Oysters

Well how do you think I feel baby?

I'm numb. I'm numb.

I was sat outside the sixth form office again. 

My future rested on the meeting I was due to have. 

My behaviour had become "Unacceptable" quite what that meant I have no idea.

But the idea of my future seemed so distant, an intangible thing that was too far ahead of my thoughts.

I glanced upwards.

On the wall outside the office were photos. Year group photos. Photos of every St Paul's sixth form year since the 90's.

Now this got me thinking.

Look at all them smiling faces, excited, eager, anticipating their long awaited futures. University and careers there for the taking.

The world at their feet, a metaphorical oyster. 

But I wondered how many of them were dead. Typical me.

Some of them would be 30 now. Do they have wives/husbands? Do they have kids? Do they have good jobs? 

Are they happy?

Were they as happy then as I was unhappy at that moment? 

Were they happy now.

Seeing those faces on the wall put everything into a crystal clear vase for me to gaze upon.

Those people would have stressed and strived for the upcoming exams. Tears would have been shed and nerves pushed to the limits. But what for? 

I wonder if in 10 years time, a boy of 17 will be sent to the sixth form office, will sit outside and I wonder if he too will gaze upon those year photos and start to think.

Will he see my face? Will he ask himself the questions I did?

It would be nice to say that in 10 years time I would be happy.

I would be in a stable relationship, I would have friends that love me and I job I am comfortable in.

I would live in a nice apartment and go on beautiful holidays with my beautiful girlfriend in my beautiful clothes.

I would be happy.

Or I could be dead.

So what's the point?

I've lost the girl of my dreams.

I don't have a best friend I talk to 24/7.

I don't get on well at school.

I don't enjoy living at home.

I struggle day after day after day just to lift my head off the pillow, because I know that the day ahead brings me nothing but pain and anguish.

I wonder if any of the sixth formers of the past shared my thoughts.

10 years on do they feel that they wasted their lives in sour emotions?

What does a heartbreak at 17 mean to them now? Nothing.

It all means nothing. 

Today is just a bridge to tomorrow.

Yesterday was a bridge to today.

Nothing more.

To live each day as if it was your last is a future that I can cope with.

It makes sense to me.

I could die in 5 months time, but I would have enjoyed myself.

It wouldn't all have gone to waste.

I may smile, deep down I don't mean the smile, but I'm living each day.

I'm living each day.