All that I am, all that I ever was…

I am more than my mental health. I am more than my homelessness. I am more than any one aspect of me. I am Addy. And this is…

Stream of Consciousness Sunday: When I think of home…

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#SOCsundayWhilst perusing the internet on this un-inspired Sunday afternoon I came across a beautiful blog that contained a wonderful meme. It’s rules are simple yet frightening:

  • Set a timer and write for 5 minutes.
  • Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.

But being a laugh-in-the-face-of-ritual-humiliation type, I figured I would give it a try. So, for the first time ever, here is my Stream of Conciousness Sunday.


When I think of home I think of a non-descript village in South Wales; of being too shy and controlled by the demons of my mind to be the person I yearned to be. Of how the night air closed in around me as I meandered lost and confused through the bleakness of the Castle grounds searching for who I was and who I wanted to be.

When I think of home I think of Inverness. A town poised on the precipice of greatness until a shopping centre extension tipped it onto the long road to ruin. Tearing its heart out and replacing the void with to let signs and broken dreams.

When I think of home I think of my parents and how much I miss them; how much they brought to my life.

When I think of home I think of a small flat in Fairfield. Of the life I cherished with a woman I loved more than anything. I can smell the pizzas we handmade whilst listening to Nick Cave and Clare Bowditch. I can taste the tears that poured when my home evaporated as a result of my own mistakes.

When I think of home I think of rebuilding my life. I think of a ramshackled boarding house in Fitzroy. Of halloween parties and midnight conversations with Irish girls who made me believe life and I wasn’t all that bad.

When I think of home I think of a woman I wanted to spend my life with. A woman who abused me. A woman who tore my soul from its moorings and set it adrift into the abyss. Why do I still feel the way I did?

When I think of home I think of emptiness; of pain and untaken opportunities.

When I think of home I think of Going Home; the greatest piece of instrumental music ever composed.

When I think of home I think of how I no longer have one. Of years spent living in the forgotten fringes of society where all I had was a blanket and a mind full of unfulfilled tattered dreams.

When I think of home I think of isolation, of love, pain, peace, loneliness and oh how I crave for this mythical place more than anything in the world.


So that was me ejecting the contents of my mind. And yes, I welled up. Cheers for that!
If you want to try your own Stream of Consciousness Sunday visit All Things Fadra and find out how.

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2 thoughts on “Stream of Consciousness Sunday: When I think of home…

  1. It sounds like we have a lot of the same thoughts. The same shitty thoughts. Often I find it so difficult to think about what ‘home’ is to me that I avoid it altogether.

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  2. i love when people write raw, but maybe that’s because, i mostly do, i will use spell check/grammer check, but if i like it the way it is, i leave it, if i like spell check idea better i might use it…my blog is me “warts” and all! your writing is amazing!

    Like

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