‘Resolve’ is an absolutely mind-blowing album. I don’t know why Poppy Ackroys isn’t soundtracking every movie, ever. ‘But what film could possibly be good enough for her?’ I hear you cry. I dunno. What films are good? Bumblebee? Yeah, she could soundtrack Bumblebee.
I’m not sure I need to add anything to this colossal record aside from pathetically urging you to listen to it and, if you have any desire at all to see artists paid for the incredible work they do, buy the fucker as well, so I’m instead going to give you a harrowing and perhaps damaging journey into my mind.
I’m pretty sure I’m a narcissist. I’m almost certain that everything I do is only ever done through the hope of how it might make me look to others. I don’t know if other humans do this, but I seem to be always aware of how every move and decision might make me look to, mostly, absolute strangers. I’m pretty sure that I’m only even moving into Immigration Law because I’m conscious how better I’d look to women if I was a lawyer. I’m horrendously lonely at the moment, and everything I do seems to have the hidden undercurrent of possibly making me less lonely at some point down the road. In my experience, literally every woman I’ve ever initially got with since I looked old enough to buy alcohol has been down to the apprehension lubricating effects of that same intoxicant. Now I’ve quit drinking, what do I do? How to people impress each other to the stage of undress without alcohol? Lawyers. Women get with lawyers, don’t they? Guess I better be one of those.
I’m being glib there, I’m somewhat aware that on my better days (which always seem to occur when there’s nobody fit watching) I can be charming, funny and have a way with words that can offset the morally repugnant effects of my ginger hair. I’m not completely blind to the fact that I can be very likeable in a certain light. My biggest concern now is that ‘certain light’ may have forever been turned off about 5 years ago.
I attempted suicide because I felt lonely even when I had Hejjy, now it has rendered me so physically disfigured that I’ll never likely find a woman as beautiful as her again. I’m, quite frankly, in too bad a move to even decide if that’s ironic. Probably not. Maybe. Now, however charming and personable I am comes through that caveat. At best, I can be very charming for a disabled person. I can be very likeable for a disabled person. I might have previously considered it possible for me to frequently punch above the weight of an overwhelmingly average looking ginger if the mood was right and enough alcohol was consumed. Now, I would be punching above the weight of an overwhelmingly average looking ginger disabled person. I’ve been too scared to see what level I’m currently operating at. What little research I’ve done into dating apps had to be stopped because of the damaging effect my lack of success was doing to my extremely fragile self-esteem*. I wasn’t even letting people know that I was disabled. Before you start to feel sorry for me, an impulse I’ve previously tried to explain was completely misspent on me due to every last misfortune I ever face being pretty much my own fault, notice how I was sure to note how I’d never find a woman ‘as beautiful’ as Hejjy? Yeah, even after all this I’d need to find someone attractive. Is this odd? Is this different to how everyone else operates? I’ve actually thought about it a lot (because all I really ever think about is myself and my reasons for doing things), whether I only wanted a gorgeous woman on my arm because I was mindful of how it would look to other people, but I actually think it’s all about how beautiful they would look to me. Which is… I dunno… is that normal? Doesn’t everyone only go for people that they find attractive? Would my choice of only going for women I found attractive look OK to other people? Actually, would other people think that I found my girlfriend attractive? Would other people think I’m going out with an ugly woman, but concede that only I found her attractive because I was a fat ginger disabled person and had lower standards? Would other people actually have no opinion on whether my partner was attractive but believe that I found her attractive? Would they think that considering I’m a disabled person the fact I have any partner is just adorable? Would they think…?
(*easily bruised self-esteem is another facet of narcissism. Narcissists spend so much of their time building up how incredible they are in their own mind, usually on their own, that any suggestions or ideas from others that crack this carefully constructed mental tower of glass can be extremely hurtful. Yeah, all this and I’m a hideous snowflake too. Sorry, just give me this one post of wallowing in my own self-pity, the next one will be fun again, I promise)
Maybe this is why I’ve placed so much hope into Hejjy. She fell in love with me when I was able bodied. Whatever exists between Hejjy and I exists without caveats. She doesn’t need to view me through the prism of my disability. Every new woman I meet now I want to blurt out that I wasn’t always like this, that I was once normal just like them. Hejjy is the only woman who knew me when I was normal, and fell in love with me as a normal person. Maybe I only want to be with her because I can be confident of not only seeing me as a disabled person. Maybe I only want to be with her because she’s the only person who could remind me of how physically normal I used to be. Maybe it isn’t love at all, maybe it’s just another narcissistic ego massage. Maybe it isn’t me wanting to be with Hejjy at all. Maybe it’s just me holding on to the last fragment of my able bodied normality. Maybe, as this paragraph has shown, I haven’t come to terms with the ‘new’ (five and a half years and counting) normal me, and my continued pining for Hejjy is actually me pathetically kicking against coming to terms with myself.
I video phoned Hejjy on Christmas Day. It was the first time we’d seen each other for maybe two years. It was… fine… I think we were both hoping for an overwhelming feeling of realness and of true love, perhaps a few tears. Hejjy said that she expected a different feeling. She was still unhappy in her marriage, but she thought that the fact that I represented the alternative would mean she couldn’t hold back the feelings of love for me. She told me that she just wanted to get back to what she felt six years ago. I told her that we couldn’t expect all of these feelings to come flooding back immediately, that we would have to make sure to keep talking to each other as much as possible in order to get to know each other again. She agreed. I haven’t heard from her since. I keep sending messages through QQ asking where she was. I sent emails. Yesterday, I cracked.
Was that too much? Possibly, and it was definitely a dick move to bring my ‘mental health’ into it. That wasn’t the last email I sent though. Yesterday was my birthday, which probably explains the natural depression and issues of mortality that I’m having to face up to. So I sent another.
Excessive? Almost definitely. However, it was exactly how I was feeling at the time. There may be truth in it. The relationship between Hej and I was becoming ridiculously one sided. I’ve convinced myself that I have to have Hejjy, that this one particular woman is my only shot at happiness. Hejjy already had a husband and a life of her own. At the same time, I’m asking her to change literally everything about her life to join me in the UK. I may be no more than a talking fantasy to her. Even when we weren’t speaking, I still made sure to remember her birthday. Rather than my last shot at happiness, perhaps Hejjy is the biggest barrier to me becoming content with my current status. Maybe the reason I can’t find anyone else is because I’m too wrapped up in one love I had nearly six years ago. Perhaps we both just want to feel like we did six years ago, and I’m not sure this is the healthiest way of doing it.
I said that I’d send that first email every day until she responds. I’ve actually sent it again this morning. Looking at it now, I realise that my loneliness might be driving me insane. I’m going to send her this blog post, but then I’m not going to contact her again. If she hasn’t made her plans clear by the time I get to Number One, then I’m going to draw a Hejjy Line and move on. 2019 could be the year I finally properly enter the dating market. I’ll have so much to talk about on Necessary Evil 2019!!
Fuck, this has been depressing… Oh! Prince!
Poppy Ackroyd: Trains
Fucking yes!! One of the reasons I adore Prince is that He has always had the ability to lift me out of whatever funk I might be in. He’s a love that will never disappoint, and will never have me questioning my own self-worth. His unreleased album ‘Dream Factory‘, much of which ended up on the following year’s ‘Sign O the Times’, may have been regarded as his greatest accomplishment were it ever granted a proper release. It’s a great credit to the mythologised Vault that a song as accomplished and as amazing as Train has never seen an official release. Sorry, Poppy, but you never had a chance.
I got a strange sense of civic pride when I found out Poppy was British
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