Kevin’s corner of the internet

I sit at the desk looking at the exam paper, i remember everything about the subject.
The teacher in charge of the exam tells us we can start. I take out my pen, place my other tools to one side. I open the exam paper, i read the first question. Then panic sets in.

All sorts of emotions fill me. I calm myself and start writing my answer, trying to cram as much detail into what I’m writing as i can muster. The thought crosses my mind that for all my so called intellect i am unable to do something as simple as an exam.
And so with the fear that I am a fraud, faking intellect, i finish the exam paper with 15 minutes to spare. I cannot face the task of rereading and checking my answers. I close the exam paper and place my arms onto the desk and then place my head onto my arms. And sit there waiting for the exam to finish. To be free of the fear.

The teacher collects the papers and lets us go row by row. Out into the daylight i feel free.
And the waiting for results begins. I occupy my time with television, reading books. Planning my future. Results day arrives. I collect my results and my face drops.
My grades don’t match up to expectations that people have of me. I go to the college and the tutor accepts me onto the intermediate course, even though my science grade is an E (I got a C on the mock exam).

Now the reasons for my poor grades ?

• I hardly ever went to school because of the bullying

• Fear blocks my academic ability

• Lazy behaviour during my revision time

• Unable to function as a person

Because the bullying at my school was so intense i avoided school as much as i could. I nearly failed to attain the required attendance levels for the GCSE exams themselves. I somehow managed to force myself to attend school, running the gauntlet of the bullies.
The fear that i am stupid often crops up into my head. I do not believe people when they say I’m intelligent or smart. This fear blocks my ability to function as a student. Problems that i find easy to solve outside of academic study become impossible. The constant expectations that people have of me also add to the pressure. Which leads me to lose touch with reality. I day dream about fantastical things, anything to take away the dull ache of my fears.

Instead of revising, i do everything i can to avoid it. I watch TV, listen to songs over and over again.
I read my school books before each exam, trying to cram all the details into my head. Even though i have the ability to recall certain things when i link them in my head (information becomes like a puzzle or pattern for me). This ability however becomes useless in stressful situations like an exam.

I freeze up, gibberish is written. I leave the exam hall.
And the process starts all over again. If i ever want to achieve anything in life, the fear that prevents me from reaching my full academic ability is something i have to overcome.
But it means solving the root causes of my problems. Which are deep seated and far too weird to explain in a way that does not make me sound like an unhinged idiot.
Sometimes i do not feel as if i have the courage to smash my way through all of my problems. I fear the future, because it means another year full of promise and failure.

I am running out of excuses. But i cannot function properly. Because of the depression and my fears i am trapped in a cycle of positive starts which turn into a blood soaked battle field where my courage is slaughtered by my fears. And my self confidence is impaled upon the constant tormentor that has followed me since my teens. That being depression, an insidious disease of the mind.

It creeps upon you, robs you of your talents and confidence. And what is left behind ?
A shell of a man, who fears everything and everyone. Closed off from the world, because the pain is too much. The pressure of trying to live up to friends and family’s wishes that you’ll get yourself sorted. Be happy like everyone else. When all you want to do is fill you day with tasks that require little to no effort. To numbing the pain with often violent means against oneself.

Failure is what i fear the most. And i often play straight into it’s hands. But there is some spark of defiance left in me. Something that refuses to die. If not for that, i do not think i would have been in my room at 4:21am typing this stream of thoughts into the written word.
Which is perhaps the best way that i am able to express myself fully. Well almost. There are things that i do not wish to put into words.

Sitting alone with my thoughts, i can see shadows of memories long since buried. Those memories which have such a powerful pull on me. The memories which remind of times when i have been dying with the pain of losing people who were close to me. Simple memories that should be joyful, turn into weapons of that tormentor in my head.

Running away from those memories is like running from my past. A place i do not wish to revisit, but as much as i try to run away. The shadows reclaim me. I am instantly transported back to that day when the wind was knocked out of my sails. The day when my world turned dark and i become the recluse i am today.

The day on which my grandmother died. I can remember it clearly.

I was with my friend Steven as usual, we were going to muck around in a shop on a games console. But my dad was at a telephone box and he told me to get home.

I entered the house to find my mum on the sofa in tears. She told me that her mother and our grandmother had died. She had raised the alarm earlier in the day, because my grandmother hadn’t answered the phone. My cousin David and his father went to the house. David found her dead on the sofa. My mum then went to the village to see things for herself. She had come back in time so she could tell us the news.

I cannot describe how i felt. Because to be honest i was numb with shock and to a certain extent i remain so to this day.

It took about a week for the funeral to take place. The day came, and i was determined to be strong for my mum and not shed any tears. I guess i should have. But i just sat in the church in numb disbelief staring at the coffin. I remember a cousin berating me for not crying. I wasn’t really listening to her. I was remembering things my grandmother had said to me over the few short years that i had known her. All the things she had done for not only me, but for her grandchildren and her own children.

The last thing i remember about that day was throwing dirt onto her coffin and shuffling off to the village hall for her wake.

My troubles began with her death. I don’t think she would have wanted me to have made the mistakes i have done or to have reacted to her death in the way i did.

But my world came crashing down around my ears.

My dad has his own way of dealing with death, but he did not really help me with getting over my grandmothers death. My Mum has tried her best to help me through the bad times. But i don’t think she or my dad understand me.

This is about the millionth time that i have written about this subject. I guess i am still trying to come to terms with my grandmother’s death.

I am a cold human being on the outside, i rarely let people get to know that sensitive and inquisitive person that lurks beneath all the pain. I am afraid of letting people get close. I do not feel as if i can truly care about people in an open way, least they get taken away.

I am the key to the lock in your house
That keeps your toys in the basement
And if you get too far inside
You’ll only see my reflection -
Climbing up the walls by Radiohead, copyright EMI etc.

I purchased the Canon EOS 400D last week. I am now quite chuffed as i have a decent entry level digital SLR camera.

Some pictures:

Light fills life with joy. The world seems to be a vibrant and colourful place with light.
No cares and no worries.
Then one day the light begins to fade. At first you don’t notice. Colours start to become less vibrant.
As if they are fleeing an unknown attacker. The Joy seems to seep away from you.

The vibrancy cascades into darkness.
And you are lost in the darkness. So you start searching for the light you once knew so well. The light you took for granted. The light that guided you home during those moments in life that seemed unbearable.

But all there is the void that is the dark, where no light shines.

But you hope you can catch a glimpse of the light, to catch the joy you once felt.

Sometimes you catch hold of a strand of light, before it slips through your fingers like sand slips through fingers.
You slowly rediscover the path that leads to the light. But the darkness is waiting to catch you off guard and tempt you down the paths that lead away from light, joy and indeed life.

But you remember the light when it shone brightly in your mind.

That memory gives you power to fight the dark. Though it is a seemingly hopeless desire or hope that drives you forward on the search to way out of the darkness and into the light.
You hope you can walk amongst the light once more where everyone else seems to be.
But the dark is always waiting for you, like a thief in the night.

I decided to restart my blog with a fresh install and a new directory path on my website.

I will try and keep this blog updated at least once a week with my thoughts.

Otherwise you will find me on cultureforall (see links panel).

Walking down twisted lanes of memories that have a magnetic pull on you.
Smells flood your senses, reality shimmers in front of you.
And there you are seeing one of the twisted lanes of memory before you.
Every detail is clear in your mind, from the time of day to the weather.
Caught up in a moment from the past. Feeling all the old hurts and emotions.
Being in a place you thought you’d forget.
But as always the twisting paths and lanes of memories hold those moments, distilled in time.
Waiting for something to trigger that memory and for it to pour it
You face things you do not wish to.
And then as soon as it has begun, the memory starts to fade and the reality slowly starts to focus. Sometimes you may find yourself in bed or just about to walk out in front of a bus.
But the trace of the memory is there for days on end. You become caught up in the past. But then like all memories it goes back into it’s bottle along with all the other memories.
And you once again set out on those difficult lanes of memory, that twist and turn before you. Unsure you take a few steps in what you hope is the right direction. Always the shadow follows hoping to snare you with memories.
Kevin Paul Taphouse.

You walk down a lane, the sun is shining. The people are happy. The birds are singing.
Then the storm clouds come. People dive for cover.
The birds scatter into the trees. Which start to creak in the wind, which is building up.
The first tiny drops of rain patter down, then come in volleys. Like arrows on a battlefield.
The trees are bending in the wind, becoming sinister with each creaky movement.
Then you are alone, surrounded by the music of the wind and rain.
Lost to the modern world. And you see before you a windy lane of such force you want to run and hide from it.
Then as soon as the storm has come it is gone.
The sun comes out and all those feelings go away.
And light fills the lane, and at that point life seems worth living. At least until the next storm hits you on the lane that is life.