I fucking hate mental illness!!

I hate mental illness, period. I often glorify mental illness, period. It’s easier for myself to think about the positive side of mental illness, and in reality, I know mental illness has no positive side. In fact, all this time I’ve convinced myself that I’ve learnt something from it and that it helped me become a better person. Fuck that! The truth is, it is the mental illness that has created the negative side of life in the first place. The low self-esteem, the trust issues, the general + social anxiety I don’t even notice often anymore even though its a 500kg weight tied around my abdomen, it just stays hidden because “I’m used to it”!

“IM USED TO IT!” FOR FUCK SAKE! Do I even need to comment on this too frequently used: the phrase that it is now carved into my tongue, and just slips out from my lips, and often fingers too much? It’s really this simple: if you don’t have a clue what that phrase means then you really have no reason to be reading this post, period.

You can probably imagine the frustrated tone, seeping through my words, bursting from my soul reading this, that’s because I’m simply exhausted with the burden that a mental illness is, nevermind having 2: depression and anxiety – 2 mental illnesses that pose as the polar opposite of each other.

Mental illness stops me from doing physical exercise because it sucks up all the motivation inside of me and just leaves it with blank emptiness and tiredness. But then t also causes me to look in the mirror and want to cry because I can’t have a 6 pack, and everybody else has a 6 pack – therefore I’m different, and therefore people will dislike me – therefore I need to exercise – but I can because I have no motivation – so I look in the mirror again. It’s a loop that never stops and gets worse every single day.

Mental illness is getting 5 hours of sleep on a night, feeling tired, getting 8 hours, 9 hours, 12 hours, 17 hours, 79 hours sleep. AND FEELING PHYSICALLY, EMOTIONALLY and MENTALLY TIRED 24/FUCkiNG7. PERIOD!

It’s because of this you go to school every day exhausted, not being able to do given tasks because you’re too exhausted, lacking motivation, not understanding the work, but that gets you annoyed all over again. Depression hits its work, you beat yourself up inside and just squash it up into a ball in the pit of your stomach, and it sits there for a while. It is hating yourself and feeling tired, because of something that is beyond your control.

Its anxiety telling you-you’re going to fail 24/7. It’s anxiety telling you your friends all hate you and feel sorry for you. That every teacher in school hates you for something you don’t even know. It’s the universe screaming at you every second of the day for existing. In reality, it’s all just a lie, a  figure of your imagination, and it all happens the next day.

Because of all this for 5 hours a day you get to the end of the day, restless and wanting to break down in your bed – your safe space, sleep or burst into to tears at best, SH at worst. And at night you go to bed 4 hours early so you can get to sleep on time to get 8 hours of sleep, but your brain has its way and keeps you awake for 6 hours and you only get 5 hours sleep. Thank you anxiety, and depression. Thank you because now it’s an infinite loop that can continue forever if it doesn’t get worse that is. If it doesn’t patronize you so much, you end up finally giving up – be it life, or your education, or you’re future.

I’d like to give a great round of appalause to mental illness and an ever bigger Thank you, much apreciated. Love you lots MI, definitely couldn’t live without you!!!!


The Worst thing about….

The worst thing about depression for me is how after 3 years I adapted. I adapted to the unhappiness, loneliness, low self-esteem, suicidal thoughts and the pull to self-harm.  I adapted. I got used to the feelings of depression and deep loathing that it felt like my world had tipped when it eventually disappeared. I became addicted to the self-loathing, so it continued even after the depression had gone. I was happy, but I wasn’t really, it was a lie, a lie to myself, a lie to those around me, whoever spectated my trauma. And even when I didn’t feel like cutting myself because I was feeling either sadness or self-loathing, or I wasn’t feeling anything at all, I still wanted to cut myself because I missed the adrenaline and similarly the euphoria the pain gave me. Even on my happiest days I can have suicidal thoughts or feel the need to self-harm, even when there’s never any reason (just to clarify).

Depression for me was an addiction and anxiety became second nature.
95% of the time I don’t notice, when I’m having an anxiety attack, however on the rare occasion that it is noticeable I leave it to pan out, I let it settle along side me until its had it’s fun, sometimes we even play a game of poker. It’s fun, it really is, that’s the beauty of anxiety. It magnifies every thought and feeling you hold, keeps it hostage and opens the gate for the battalion at most unsuspecting times, leaving a field of shed blood amongst the fields of your mind. As much as I hate to say it, anxiety does often have its benefits: When I’m happy it can be euphoric, I feel the happiness like nothing else, each and every time I feel that great happiness it feels like the first time all over again. It makes me emotional, but a happy emotional. In that moment I learn something new, I learn to be thankful, and forgiving, I learn the beauty of the world that’s before my eyes, and I see new sides to people I’d never thought I’d see. All in the space of my own, and in my own time and that beauty belongs to me, and me only. It captivates me.

I’ve probably said it time and time again but I diagnosed myself with anxiety and depression in year 8; at the time I was 13. That’s the saddest thing about it for me, not just for me anyway. There are thousands of people out there and I’m guessing 50% of these thousands who suffer were diagnosed at a young age and lots even diagnosed before the age of 13. That is no life to live! or CHILDHOOD for crying out loud! That’s what hurts and upsets me the most, I wouldn’t be so heartbroken if I was the only person in the world who suffered, it’s the knowledge that somebody out there is suffering just like me, but only that I can’t help in the slightest. It’s living it all again, the past years in those few small seconds, knowing somebody else is feeling the same and that even though for me it is the past, this person feels it right now in that second.

I just need to write something down, because all I feel now is extreme rage, panic, and hysteria. I’m not well, I’m mentally ill and I say it doesn’t define me but it does. It controls every aspect of my life; my friendships, my relationships with everybody in general, my feelings, my health, my safety. It controls my sleeping patterns, my thinking patterns, my eating patterns, my creativity and literally my intellect. It takes the slightest to trigger me. I saw a picture of a ‘friend’, a friend who I thought I could trust, a friend who defended against one of my best friends and nearly broke it off whilst doing so. I risked Losing all my friends, for them to hate me for this other friend. Now all they Fucking do is ignore me. All they do is walk away from me anytime I come bar them, pretend I don’t exist. It makes me feel so shit inside. So filled with a pure utter rate that I feel like there is physically something inside me boiling my blood and organs, something inside me that made me just want to burst into tears. Something inside me that made me want to cut myself. I’ve been clean for about a month now!!! I’m always going to be mentally ill and it’s so fucking hard. So fucking hard going about my day, every little breath and heartbeat are controlled by my illness. I’ve been depressed and had anxiety since I was 11, suicidal since before then. When does it stop? When do I get a chance to get happy, to live in peace? Why is this happening to me? What have I done to deserve this? Why?

Disconnected: Disastrous? Delirious?

As the title suggests I’ve recently been disconnected, just not in the way I would usually be. Usually, I would be disconnected from the outer world, from happiness and disconnected from my very own personality. This often means I’m disconnected from reality, from creativity and intellect – thus causing me to often say irrational things, think irrational thoughts and do irrational things. For once in my ‘sad little life’; insert a hint of sarcasm; I’m actually disconnected from all things that made me feel like a wreck. I’m disconnected from the usual depression, anxiety, distress, stress even however unpleasantly I’m still not disconnected from ‘Insomnia’. The tables have turned, insomnia this time has been caused by excitement, excitement to watch tv series, excitement to play Sims; insert eye roll; excitement to read and excitement to carry on with the next day’s activities. I do think it feels good.

However, I can sense the signs of impending doom, of all the past events taking over, taking over my mindset, and the clocks turning back – anything just to tip me over the edge. I can feel them, it’s hard to understand what that means, but strangely enough, I can emotionally, physically and mentally “literally” feel ‘it’ trying to take over, and it takes all of my will just to suppress the force of it. I push it to the back of my mind, which only allows it to build up over time. By knowledge of experience I know that due to the events that will take place in September, and the sudden change in the environment my anxiety will take a turn for the worst, and I’ll most likely be back to the start. The holidays have been pretty great so far, but I can’t help but feel lonely. I’ve said before; time and time again, that I have no true friends. Which in essence is true, depending on your definition. Most people have a group of friends they can rely on, a group of friends they can trust, who they are loyal to because likewise, their friends are loyal to them, a group of friends that talk to them outside of school and meet with them…. and others have a tiny group, and even fewer people have that 1 friend, that 1 best friend they can rely on. Ultimately I have none of that, it’s just me and has been since year 8. I had the closest thing to a best friend back when I was 10, sounds childish, it really does… hey I swear I’m still a child at heart, but things seriously got in between us and eventually I moved, snapping the final string bonding us together. Then it happened again I became friends with a girl my first day in year 7, she was my best friend for 2 years. We bonded when I ‘nearly’ got us both killed, when in actual fact I just ran across a road without looking and she followed, which she incidentally calls nearly getting us killed. Things just got in the way, my other friends, and we honestly just brought the worst out in each other, from experience two likes repel, and we were just too similar. Funnily enough, I also had another best friend during year 7 and I actually think we became friends the same day too, it also didn’t work out, it could have been that we were too much alike but I also believe that the opposition and dislike that everybody held for me probably persuaded him away, I even remember sitting at a table in the cafeteria and somebody interrogating him as to why he was sat near me, and another time him the person that interrogated him (also his best friend presumably ) also invited me to walk home with them due to me living near ‘my friends’ house, I held severe distrust at that proposition and assumed they were just going to run off and leave to figure the way out home by myself and declined.

Ironically these two best friends dated at one point or had some unspoken agreement between them that nobody knew about until one day he told me and I remembered her telling me to tell him she said yes, which I suspect was him asking her out. Undeniably it is all just speculation on my behalf but they both admitted it to me and later denied it.

It just goes to show I’m not cut out for a best friend or even friends, which often leaves me feeling lonely and I have to suppress it and pretend I don’t care. Where as in reality I do care and it makes me fear for the future because if I can’t hold a best friend now then how can I ever in the future? And isn’t a significant other/ partner actually just a best friend in hindsight? Does that mean I’ll be lonely forever? I’ve gone to the ends o the Earth and given everything I have just to secure friendship and even more to secure a best friend and in the end, I’ve pushed myself too hard to secure it and essentially just blown it all to pieces within the space of a very few, short, seconds.

I’ve gone off topic here and made it clear that in actual fact that I’m never going to be able to let go of the past. I’ve forgiven but honestly, I hate it but I’ve not forgotten and every once in a while a memory that I have lost just pops up out of nowhere and the blurred lines become unblurred and the jigsaws just form together, and the past events just become real again. It just makes me realize how much I’ve glossed over, and how much everybody else has glossed over and forgotten where it just haunts me, but I have to disregard it all because it’s in the past and everybody’s moved on and forgotten.

I don’t want to end it on this note so I’m going to try and create something new, that I’ve not spoken about before. Okay, I lied but I’m not going to get annoyed with myself. Truth be told barely any of my blog posts are my own ideas, they’re either spur of the moment decisions or I have to look for inspiration, usually in the form of an image, video or a quote. Some great quotes being: “stars can’t shine without darkness”, “just because my path is different doesn’t mean I’m lost”, “we accept the love we think we deserve” “difficult roads lead to beautiful destinations”, all which I will insert at the end, and more. I read them, and whilst reading them I smile like nothing else because they inspire me and motivate me. They tell me it’s not all just over yet, and persuade me to keep fighting. It’s like an award or medal for me, reading these give me recognition even though they are so generic that anybody can search the first page of google for them, but I always feel like they were made personally for me. Like Adele when she was given the Grammy that she snapped. They convince me to march on, keep fighting and doing what I’m doing, they motivate me to do it for myself, THE future, (not just mine), for my family for my friends, and for me, they motivate me and inspire me to help others. Thus every time I do help somebody else in a similar ditch I smile with pride because I know I’ve tried to make a significant difference and maybe it just worked, more over I know that if I keep it up I can continue to keep trying and I never give up hope that I could help. It gets unbearingly hard sometimes but I don’t have it in me to give up. I have a friend that has been going through all sorts of changed recently from anxiety, to minor depression, to emo, to transgender, to major depression, who incidentally tried to hurt themselves majorly once and no matter how hard they’ve tried to push me away I’ve never once given up hope. Not only that but I’ve cried myself at night because of the fear I felt for them, and it strives me to continue working at it, chipping away at the wall they’ve barricaded around themselves.

I’m going to end it here and just wondering if anybody has any ideas on what I could make my next blog post about.

Let’s chat about the stigma surrounding the LGBTQIA+ community? 

So a few week back I was listening to a song on YouTube that gave me hope and the strength that I needed to get through certain days, and yeah it was an anthem for us, as well as any other set backs, for example mental illness or physical illness. It’s a great song anyway and gives me courage. I was scrolling through the comments, as you do, to see how everybody else viewed it. Seeing as though it is an anthem you could expect people talking about how it affects us and I read on from that comment, whilst some triggered little shark girl (sounds like she’s a 12 year old troll lbh) was being explicitly abusive to the community and I knew I had to attempt to reason with her,I started off casually being polite as you do and she got quite abusive (surprising I know, not!) 

Her attitude and point of view was simply disgusting and lacked humanity in my opinion and I feel like she disgraced everybody else of our race with her way of seeing things, especially with her obvious immaturity. I was saddened towards the end, however to see somebody suggest we stop striving to fit in and be whole. Just like I was with sharkies opinion on our rights. It’s strongly not just about rights for ourselves (as individuals) we want rights for all of us, all around the world! We want the freedom to be ourselves, without being judged or frowned at, we want to abolish the judgemental comments and the stereotypes of all things! The expectations before we’ve opened up that we’re so and so! 

I hate being ______, I hate myself, and finally I hate breathing oxygen

Last night I convinced myself I was going to kill myself for a short while. I was at my tipping point, but for no absolute reason, I just was. For those short minutes I was convinced that in the morning instead of getting a shower I was going to take a bath in my own blood. I didn’t care that not only would just anybody find me but if could have been my little brother or sister. They could need the toilet in the morning but instead they find my body in the bathtub with crimson stained water flooding the floor. Normally the idea of somebody finding me puts me off, and stirs a gut wrenching ache in my stomach, however this time it didn’t I was just empty!

I’ve created this false vision around me, even though I say I want to kill myself and drink bleach. Even though I say I hate life, I hate myself it’s fine because my attitude and body image suggests otherwise, and my facade sticks frozen in place. The icy mask never drops, and neither does the pain of life. It’s not even sadness now or revert, or even the heartbreaking feeling of rejection and lonliness, it’s not feeling it or not feeling happy. It’s feeling like you’re just floating 10 inch of the ground, carrying no body weight, emotions or even any sign you’re even there at that time, in that place. I get through the day pretending I’m fine because nobody notices the difference, in that short time because I feel the compulsion to keep up the brick wall separating fantasy from reality I’m fine. But on a night I’m not, there’s no one to pretend to, lie to, nobody to save me from myself. In that moment the world silently comes crashing down, there’s no tears to cry and no anger screaming at me from the walls. Just a vast desert of dry nothing. And that’s why it hurts; I’m used to feeling something, pure emotion either way but now I feel nothing. I haven’t cried Happy tears in a while now, and when I cry sad tears I have to force myself. 

I hate being gay. I hate it because I just do. I hate the fact that there are people around me who may one day be forced to hate me because of their religion, or because of society. I hate everything about being gay. There’s always that reminder it’s something else that makes me ‘unique’, and further away from the crowd I’m pushed. I hate how I fit every stereotype and have done since I was 5. I want to be hetrosexual so much, but it’s impossible. When around people I try to force myself to act like them, but they already assume I’m going to talk about gay things and it’s like a punch to the stomach. I need to do it! My voice, my hobbies, my friends – all just constant reminders. I hate it so much. Just another reason for me to kill myself, how do I go on with the rest of my life hating something that defines me so much? 

I hate every fibre of my being, on the inside and on the outside. I hate my brain for being ill,, my heart for giving me a blood system, my lungs for breathing, my digestive system for digesting food, I hate my face for being ugly, my eyes for needing glasses, my teeth for being crooked and fucked. My ears for being too big, my hair for being indecisive colour wise, and really curly. I hate my arms because even though they’re really skinny they could be skinnier, I hate my fingers because they’re supposedly pointy, and my finger nails because they aren’t resistant to my nail biting. My torso because it’s fat, my legs because they’re even worse and my arse because it’s completely​ just fat. I hate my walk because I walk with a wobble due to some imbalance in my posture. I hate my skin colour because it’s so pasty and my eyecolour because it’s bring. I hate that I could be so much smarter. I hate my family background. 

How do I make it work for another 50 years at least? 

A little bit of nothing, oxymoronic?

I’m not sure how good tonight’s post shall turn out, only that I don’t have much energy to post. That’s probably where the problem lies, but to even attempt to fix a broken mirror we need all of its pieces, just like how when solving a problem you need all the present information and facts to create a solution. But not only do you need a solution, you also need the courage, and thirst to fix the problem.

I can think of many possibilities that are causing me to be tired and depression is only one of them. It could be the after effects of PE, or a caffeine addiction, it, however, cannot be because I’m tired due to me having 9 hours sleep last night and approximately the same the night before.

I haven’t posted in a while, and my idea of a post about symbolism flew out the window due to me forgetting my examples and initial ideas, not to mention I lacked the energy in the first place. This I did some browsing on YouTube to find a topic similar to the rest of my blog, and I found a video I’ve seen at least 10 times before but it’s relatable. The video showcases a girl reciting a poem, which explains what describing depression to your mother is actually like. So I thought why don’t I break it down and explain it in my own words and compare it to my own struggles.


Mom my depression is a shape shifter

Depression can be a huge weight tied to your leg which you had once been forced to drag with you everywhere, or it could be like a black rose in a field of yellow tulips, it’s there and you feel it but it certainly isn’t the end of the world.

Mom says I thought the problem was that you can’t get out bed.

Now, this is probably the most relevant part for me, because again it’s like a force summoning you, pulling at you throughout the day. At at the end of it, and you’re back in the comfort of your own home without the pressure telling you to continue and that forced support holding you up, you crumble like the cliffs at our coasts when they’ve been assaulted by a wave, one too many times. You collapse onto your safe haven and dream about the could be’s and maybe’s and you’re aspirations – that is if you’re feeling up to it, and truthfully you’re actually not half of the time. I just wanted to lighten the mood, or should I say soften the blow for my peers?

How beautiful? That reminds me, due to my struggles last year when myself harming was pretty bad and my mentality broken, I thought it would be appropriate to pin my struggles on one person and the blame the faults of the whole world on that one person, it was wrong and I regret every moment of it, because she was entirely the wrong person to be held accountable. So we had a meeting with our head of year, during that meeting I was put in my place, but I believe said thing was not entirely justified. Here’s the thing, in said meeting our HoY told me, my peers were only children and they don’t deserve any of this. But in actual fact wouldn’t it be justice, due to the fact my depression and anxiety, and suicidal feelings was mainly due to being bullied on and off for the 3 years I’d spent at that school. When I’d finally had time tom process what she had said, it felt like a punch to the stomach, I felt as though she was blaming me for everything, and telling me I had to suck it up or just move on. But let’s leave that little trip down memory lane at the next bus stop, shall we?

Anxiety is the cousin visiting from out of town that depression felt obligated to invite to the party

Now, this is a great point which I think I have probably mentioned on numerous occasions. Depression and anxiety are both mental illnesses that make everyday difficult, compared to most other peoples. But to have both at the same time is horrendous and most of the time unbearable. I’ve said before Depression causes you to care about nothing, but anxiety causes you to care about everything; together the two words are oxymoronic and your every day full of contradictions and hard to make decisions. You can spend 10 minutes debating one resolution.

You see Mom each night Insomnia sweeps me up in his arms dips me in the kitchen in the small glow of the stove-light
Insomnia has this romantic way of making the moon feel like perfect company

Now I actually understand why I once upon a time and to this day I feel enthralled by the moon, and especially the full moon. The luminescent glow of the moon has me dreaming about how great life could be, the silence of the night comforts me to no end and my bed sheets and pillows can sometimes be drowning.

Mom says try counting sheep
But my mind can only count reasons to stay awake

Again insomnia keeps awake most nights, has done in the past, still, does. but sometimes I can fall asleep in a matter of minutes due to either exhaustion or the constant reminder stirring, and flashes of past events in front of my eyes. Telling me the night is a dangerous place when I’m in that place, confronting me and persuading me to just go to sleep instead. To save me from me, and the pain – figuratively and literally.

Mom still doesn’t understand
Mom, can’t you see
That neither can I

And now you understand what explaining depression is like to somebody else, or get somewhat of an idea. Bear in mind that the poem in its entirety explains a lot more.

I’d like to talk about two things especially tonight. 1) A new discovery and my research and 2) how I am not my illness but instead my illness is an explanation. 

Due to browsing through YouTube I discovered a new possibility – but it’s a chance not a definitive option. Well anyway I came across a video on borderline personality disorders, and then across another video on bpd, and another. So I watched them. Then the gears started turning in my head, I want answers, I want to know why I experience all this in my head, so I can finally greet the roots of the problem. Due to my discovery I did my research, according to scientific studies and bpd tests it’s a major possibility. I have the symptoms and the cause is simple. But onnthe other hand it’s just another possibility and god is it difficult differentiating between them. Anxiety, is simple it’s easy to identify. It took me a few attacks to realise. But with depression it’s difficult because it’s usually a side effect of everything else, it could be full on depression or it could be BPD or even bipolar. I can hands down say I’ve felt it all, had all the symptoms and thought it was all of them. In year 8 I had ‘minor depression’ and anxiety, but in year 9, things got major. I still had the anxiety but the depression got worse. Now this year, during September I felt the symptoms of Bipolar, I had weeks of hating myself and everyone, and thinking I couldn’t do anything, with sleep 24/7, to no sleep and thinking I could take on the world. Believing I could get higher test results than even the smartest in my class. And recently I’ve received the symptoms of BPD, I hate everyone all of a sudden especially my parents, god knows why. My energy levels have been chaos, and I’ve felt soo void, so empty.  

Then thinking back, it’s exactly the same with 1 other person. In the past I’ve either hated them or them or loved them like they’re the best thing since sliced bread: when in reality I don’t even know them. As well in year 9 I continuously pushed everybody away to stop myself from getting left out and alone. Due to that fact I’ve caused vigorous arguments with people and stirred massive drama, I’ve pushed everyone away to give myself time,or to lessen the blow from the grenade I hold inside me. But then again isn’t that just a side effect of depression and suicidal thoughts? Let me tell you a secret – I’ve been suicidal since at least year 7, probably since year 6 tbh. 
I also want to talk about, or try to convince myself; that I’m not my illness and that I can allow myself to be better. I’ve recently just gave in to it. Let the monster inside take over, I haven’t tried to fight it. But I know I should. I honestly don’t remember the past weekend to it taking over. I’ve purchased a fidget cube from Amazon but I don’t know how long it will take to come, it should help me a lot. I wanted to start off this discussion differently, but I forgot. Like 20 minutes ago I was beaming with a smile but 19 minutes ago I felt sick, like I was going to collapse. I wanted to cry. Without a reason I just flipped emotions and I kinda gave in, even though I thought for 5 mins whilst singing Galway girl but it didn’t work. It are away so I got into bed and got under the covers. This is what it’s like almost everyday, I give in to it, and just wait for it to pass, I don’t fight it because I believe I’m my illness. But I shouldn’t and I don’t want to. 

Just going to clear a few things up. – Trigger Warning

First if you’re reading this then please watch the video. There’s no other way to put it other than that way. https://youtu.be/tKaQd6-tlUw

Contrary to popular belief, suicide is not a spur of the moment decision. The process of thought can take anytime between days and even years. For a person to suddenly decide to commit is the general image behind suicide that society has imposed on us, never once do we mention the hours of thought put behind the act, a person puts into it. Nor do we mention how said person usually comes up with alternative reliefs before the end game and the continuous balance of positives and negatives they weigh up. Suicide isn’t all hearts and roses, its bloodshed and tears. 

The truth is I have thoughts of killing myself at least 5 times a day – on a good one. And on a bad day, even more. I’m not scared of dying, I’m mostly bored if not tired of living a half life. I’m smarter than that however, and it’s just thoughts. But I know I’m strong enough to do so, and I lack no remorse for it, it’s too easy to be honest. There’s tutorials on nooses,I could hang myself from a tree, I could slit my wrists easiest of them all actually! There’s also bleach, I could jump from somewhere or drown. 

I’m bored of the life I live. People compare me to Hannah Baker and ask me if I did it, who would be my reasons. In actual fact I probably wouldn’t leave a note behind, because you can’t write a suicide note to yourself, or to life even. I don’t feel anything mostly, I can’t cry because I lack the feelings so I laugh instead and pretend I’m fine, I make jokes and every depressed word that comes out my mouth is a plea for help.

Last week I went missing, people only care when you could be dead. But no I say sorting things but it’s normal, I could kill myself tomorrow and everybody would love me for 3 days and then never mention my name again.

Before I finish I don’t want sympathy, none at all just recognition that I’m not okay. And I definitely don’t want any are you okay.