Let me explain how this goes:

You: You’re going to be HUGE!
In your head: “She’s going to be so cute and round as the baby grows – I am so happy for her! How cute will she look in all that maternity wear!”

You: You’re going to be HUGE!
In her head: “OH MY GOD – I am going to be fat and ugly…I just knew it! Hello to one-size-fits all clothing where every fucking thing needs to have an elastic band! Hello to grandma underwear that reaches up to my tits which by the way feel  like they’re about to sprout machine guns. WHY do people feel the need to point out the obvious? Yes, I’m pregnant and I’m going to get fat – do you think I DON’T KNOW THAT ALREADY? People can be SO FREAKING RUDE – who the hell do you think you are commenting on my figure like that? You think I ENJOY eating so much I shit out continents?”

And so on.

My best friend is in her eight month, and when I went over last week to see her, she felt it was her duty to make me touch her stomach. “Put your hand here – you can feel the baby!” I politely declined but she kept pestering me, until I surrendered and gingerly placed my hand on the top of her belly. “No, no, not there, HERE!” And in one swift move she grabbed my hand and moved it wayyy down south. I swear, a few more inches further down and I’d be delivering that baby myself.

There are so many myths when you’re pregnant – this eternal ‘glow’ that you’re supposed to get when your pregnant is an utter pile of shit. Unless you’re giving birth to Superman or an alien, you ain’t going to be fucking glowing. A few weeks back I was introduced to a woman who just happened to be pregnant, and I asked her if she was having the infamous morning sickness or weird food cravings. “Oh no, not at all – I’ve had a WONDERFUL pregnancy, just so easy and problem free!” To which I thought “Oh here’s the bitch that all other pregnant women love to hate!” In truth though, do you honestly think that she would continue to spew about how much she enjoyed throwing up at 3am?

So to all the lovely pregnant women reading this post, I believe this is the perfect trailer for you:

A gay teen commits suicide.

Another one.

It was probably not the way I imagined my day to begin, reading about yet another teen who took his life because he was bullied. But these are the bitter cards that life deals us, and this article was indeed bitter for me.

For me these gay teens echo much of the frustration I felt in my youth – the feelings of isolation, of being physically taunted, of always walking that one step faster than everyone else. Of course my outside persona reflected something very different. My love for conversation and generally fun attitude attracted people to me, so for most of my university life I was surrounded by people or always part of larger groups. I applied the ‘safety in numbers’ routine to a T, and it worked like a charm. But on occasions where I wasn’t with anyone or was walking to a class alone, I would hear the names being muttered just within earshot. I’d learn what ‘faggot’ and ‘queer’ would mean in at least three other languages. I had guys bump into me as they ran up the stairs. I’d have people sway their hips and flail their arms as they walked by me in a dry attempt to get on my nerves. I had an English professor who was explaining double-meanings in a class point directly to me and say “If I say he is gay, what does that mean?” To which someone said “He’s very happy” and someone else screamed “He’s a homo!”

Of course at the time the incident didn’t quite register with me – I wasn’t flamboyantly gay or waving a pride banner, people just knew within a few minutes of meeting me that I was who I was. But despite thinking I was thick-skinned and “Born this Way”, inside the frail chords of my confidence were beginning to snap. My family life was chaotic with everyone seemingly living in their own world and not talking to each other. My grades weren’t great in some of my university subjects because I was doing a degree that my parents wanted me to do rather than pursuing something I was passionate about. My sexual life would put ‘Sex & the City’ and ‘Desperate Housewives’ to shame. Day by day, I wanted out. I wanted to leave everything behind and stop waking up to a life that I dreaded. I didn’t care to think about the people I would be affecting with this decision, I just was fed up of everything and everyone.

So in a somewhat planned and clinically calculated move, I decided to attempt an overdose.

I didn’t write a note explaining what I was going through or why I was doing it. I just went to the medicine cabinet and went through what was there. I stashed the pills in my room and went about the rest of my day as normal. I waited until my parents had gone to bed before getting out of bed and retrieving the pills from under the clothes in my cupboard. I sat on my bed with a bottle of water and started ingesting each one – from Panadol to flu medication I just kept taking them all. After my cocktail of medication was complete, I lay back down and waited. I fell asleep and woke up some hours later to find my sheets and body drenched with sweat. My stomach felt like it was caving in on itself and I couldn’t breathe properly. As soon as my body realized I had woken up, I buckled over and threw up. I grabbed the waste bin and witnessed my stomach empty out the vile contents I had tried to digest a few hours ago. I recall the thick acidic smell as I retched into the bin for what seemed like hours, even when nothing came out and I felt like any moment I would pass out and never wake up. But the short of that experience is that I did not pass from this world, nor (by some miracle) did I do permanent damage to my body. I was stupid enough to just stay home for the week and not talk to anyone about what I had done, letting my body recover from the abuse.

I look back at that event today and so many things go through my mind. I regret that I was so cowardly that I wanted to take my own life rather than try to deal with issues. I wish that I could have talked to someone – anyone, who could really truly understand. Yes I had close friends, but how do you chair a conversation that starts with “Last week I tried to take my life“?

My point of writing this post was not to garner sympathy or try and feel better about what I did. I wrote this post for the person reading this right now who is going through the same things I did those years ago. You don’t have to be gay to be bullied or depressed or suicidal – it can effect anyone. I would like to think that I’m a better person now having come out of it intact, but I also realize that in my moment of weakness I looked for the easy way out. Even now as an adult I’m still not used to talking about how I’m feeling or if anything is bothering me (I’m working on that). But if I was to go back and talk to my past self, I would tell myself that what I was about to do was not only stupid and foolish, but would mean that I had given up on myself. I also wrote this post to show those who know me in real life that even the most seemingly upbeat and ordinary person you know could be crushing on the inside.

Life throws all kinds of shit at you – It Gets Better but only if you want it to.

Life is for living, and it is not in your hands to cut it short -never think that you are worthless or that your existence means nothing in this world.

I shall leave it to the SEO and social media gods to decide if this post should be shared or tweeted etc, but if you are being bullied at school, university, work, or wherever and you really need an outlet, then speak to someone, send a tweet, post a Facebook message, ring a center – anything at all, just don’t believe that life isn’t worth living anymore.

xoxo

2) Add ‘feat’ or ‘vs’ to the track title – people pay more attention to your song when you’ve got someone more talented in it. Even if they’re just humming in the background or making sounds with their armpit, it’s going to sell.

3) Remix the shit out of it – if your track isn’t doing too well on the charts, just release a remix! And make the title really cool by pairing up with some 2-bit DJ you found on craigslist. I mean how COOL does “The Pushover Brothers – Concrete Balls [Whoopee Cushion Remix]” sound?

4) Vocabulary is going to be your greatest enemy, so try and twist things around by randomly substituting actual words with slang. Like ‘there’ with ‘thur’, or ‘here’ with ‘hur’, or where with ‘wur’ – you get the durft.

5) If all else fails and your record company is threatening to bail on you, use autotune! Autotune is your golden ticket to a life of remixes, club appearances, hangover concerts, and a second shift at Wendys.

Wurd.

I was majorly peeved that my camera decided to die halfway through, so I had to rely on my Blackberry to take photos, which didn’t turn out as bad as I thought they would! It would have been epic if there was any merchandise on sale as I would have loved to grab a t-shirt or something to add to my ever-expanding wardrobe.

After the band’s exhaustive set we were treated to an incredibly talented beatboxer (whose name escapes me…WTF!) who did some truly amazing things. Drums, bass, violins, trumpets and vocals all seamlessly reproduced by one man with no other equipment or backing – it was absolutely incredible. We then had the pleasure of the fierce Ms Dynamite entertaining us, who really interacted with the crowd and got every single person jumping around and dancing. The night was then wrapped up by a final hour of DJing before everyone headed out at about 2.30am. Exhausted from the screaming/dancing combo, I headed back to my hotel for some shuteye, with the chorus of Invisible Light as my lullaby.

A big thank you to Think Flash Abu Dhabi for organizing the event, but my personal thank you goes out to @dannclark for inviting me to the gig, and for being so incredibly stealthy as he whipped around the stage with his team between sets, dismantling equipment, shifting gear, adjusting mikes, and not to mention MCing the crowd! Thank you so much Heather! xoxo

Here’s some quick photos I managed to nab with my phone:

Not too shabby if you ask me!

The rest of the day was spent packing up, picking up last minute souvenirs from the gift shop, and watching the crew break up the gingerbread village in the main lobby. We all met up for a final round of drinks and dinner in the evening, before heading to our cabins for our last day at sea.