Drawing Lines Opening – Short

I wake to the sound of air leaving my lungs. I can feel it pulse and stab through my being as it escapes. The Sun spills through the half open blinds on the window and the heat sticks to my skin like gum. It’s morning. I have no idea when I last opened my eyes but it feels like an eternity. I’ve had a lot of time to comprehend where I’ve been and how I managed to control the world inside me.

My name is Evan Jacobs, and on 8th July 2008 at approximately 8:30pm I was murdered. But that’s not even the best part. I found a world deep inside my mind. A complete Utopia. Peace.

And now I have to find a way to get back there.


You’re waiting for a train.

Sorry it’s been a while. Surprisingly I’ve been pretty busy.

I’ve decided to change things a bit. No-one wants to hear about this shit. So I’m going to start posting something else.

I’m working on a project called ‘Drawing Lines’. Hopefully, with time, this will be a multi-media project overlapping more than one media.

So let’s start with the story. Tonight I will post the opening several sentences to ‘Drawing Lines’ for better understanding. Let me know what you think. Cheers.

A Dream is a Dream is a Dream

Weeks passed in a blur. A long, empty mist that my mind sunk into. CBT. Cognitive Behaviour Therapy. A technique used by therapists across the world to help shape our thoughts in a calmer approach. Not to rid them completely, but to teach us how to handle them when they come. Simple, right?

After half a dozen weeks of therapy over the phone I was subjected to face-to-face. To challenge these thoughts and emotions. I mustered all the energy I had to think deep enough to face my demons. In and outside of therapy. Things were going good for a while. Calm. Structured. It almost felt like each day a new step was placed on the ladder for me to climb from the abyss to normality. I was eating. Sleeping better. I even managed to get out, see friends. Be normal.

Come to think of if. I didn’t want to be better. I didn’t want to be me again. I just wanted to be normal. I accepted the fact that things will never go back to how they were. But that didn’t stop me from hoping beyond hope that I could just be normal.

However, as I said, things were going good for a while.


And then I woke up.


It was a Tuesday night. I remember this because after 10pm I was completely alone. I sat outside, like I often do, beer in hand, Vape in the other. I watched the vapour escape my lungs and spread into the open air. I saw a star. Not the brightest but in perfect location as to how my head was resting on the camp chair. I watched this star for hours, literally. I didn’t worry. I didn’t panic. I didn’t fear. I was alone but safe. That was the last time I felt anything close to happiness and I’ll cherish that moment forever. I spent many nights trying to replicate this but it never seems the same, I don’t know why. Unscripted I guess.

I didn’t sit there reflecting on life. I sat there making my own fictional version of myself. A version where I was me, only not quite.

I think we all have those thoughts sometimes. Especially when vulnerable and weak. Trying to make up a better version of ourselves. Without flaws and hurt and pain and regret.

I never chose to be this way. I know it’s not my fault but my problem to deal with. And I am. Dealing with this everyday. Why can’t this all just stop? I want to fall back two years or sleep for the next two. Wake up and be someone else.

I’m scared. Because I don’t want to keep living like this. In fear. In a cage. I want to be someone else. Someone better than I could ever be. Forgive me.

Into the Night we will go.

fearI’ll get to the rest of the story soon.

First I wanted to address an emotion.


You see, my idea of fear is simple. For me, fear is an idea. A simple idea in your head that grows like a cancerous cell and spreads all over your body and stays.

Obviously, looking at the logical/rational side of the brain fear is used to our advantage, just like in the animal kingdom. You see a man running towards you with a bomb, you run, right? That’s rational. You find yourself running to the end of a cliff. You stop. That’s rational. That’s fear. Fear working in the right way. Just like our common ancestors, when we feel threatened we run or we freeze. Or ‘Fight or Flight’ (or Freeze) as it’s known.

However through evolution our brains have evolved to adapt to the emotional side of the brain. Our greatest friend and biggest enemy. You see, fear, or an idea, can be anything. Usually it’s common we fear the same things. For example, fear of spiders. Our rational mind tells us that a spider can’t harm us (with the tiny exception), yet our emotional mind takes over, and acts for us. It makes us think and act differently.

We all fear. We all fear something. Your fear is worse than everyone else’s right? Wrong. Fear does the same thing to each and every one of us. Just think about that. You don’t have to agree. Just think. It can help.

Wake The Knife

I can’t remember the exact day or time. It was late morning. I didn’t feel right when I woke but if I knew what was to come I wouldn’t have left my room.

I tried to calm down after an argument with my girlfriend. But I couldn’t. It went from 0 to 100 in a second and that’s all it takes.

I felt like I was watching myself from across the room. Like one of those ‘out-of-body’ experiences only I couldn’t address it. After I lost all control in my body and mind I fell numb. I can remember even now every last detail. The knife, the thoughts, the result.

I took a chopping knife from the kitchen drawer and slowly walked out the back. It was warm. The £10 paddling pool was out and I noticed my legs carrying me to it. I couldn’t control it. It felt like something took over. My girlfriend came down the stairs and found me out the back next to the pool. I could hear her pursuing me to take charge. From there on it was all a bit of a blur.

A few hours later I found myself at the doctors. One of the first questions he asks was ‘And what stopped you from doing it?’ This threw me. I had no idea what to say. I took my time thinking. Why?

Then I realised. There were two things that day that scared me so much it hurts to reflect. The first was the fact that I realised, no matter what happened. I couldn’t control it. I was just a passenger in my own body watching this all unfold. I could not take charge.

The second. After some serious thought I answered his question. I thought seriously and wrestled my head for answers. When I found it, I hated myself. ‘Nothing’ I told him.

The horrifying truth is, that, if she wasn’t there that day, or in some alternate parallel universe where I was alone, there was nothing to stop me. She literally saved my life.

Stick with me. My story’s not over yet.

Bring Him Home

So what gave me the idea of blogging? Strangely enough it was a film. 2015 The Martian was a huge blockbuster success. How does this relate to a 20 something year old moaning online? It’s simple.

Mark Watney was stranded on Mars completely alone. He had no communication with human life and the only thing that kept him sane was a recorded video diary of his life out there. At the end of the day loneliness means different things to different people, however it all feels the same inside. This is me making my own version of a recorded video diary. I’m typing what I would have said if I had to balls to speak up.

The next blog I write up will be tough. For me and people who know me.

New World

The following couple of weeks were strange. At first I refused  to take my tablets, I wouldn’t accept the diagnosis. I told my friends, my family and those who needed to be told, luckily for me the support I received was overwhelming.

I went through a stage of waking myself from a night terror and almost finding it more comforting to go back to sleep than to face reality. I took time off work, stopped seeing people, cut myself off from intimacy. I became a broken shell of a man who stopping feeling emotion and compassion and the need to communicate with human life. I drifted into a new world.

I had no routine to follow and stopped sleeping so truth be told I don’t remember much after I started taking the pills. I stopped living and started surviving. Sleeping when my body caved yet unable to block the night terrors in my head.

If that wasn’t bad enough I started to hear voices. Voices that told me what to think and how to act. Irony of that is I could have adjusted, living like that with the voices. Only they never stayed. They would pop up out of nowhere for a while then leave like they were never there. I was surrounded by those who cared yet I never felt so alone, lost, empty.

Its funny actually. I’m sat here writing all this over a period of time with an image in my head of masses of people reading the words I type. But actually when I really think about it, I wanted to write this for my friends and family to hopefully answer any questions should anything ever happen to me. I guess it’s just part of life now. How some of us find it easier to lay our guns and put all the cards on the table for the world to see than to just stop, and tell our closest entities how we are feeling.

Everything I’m saying to you is complete truth. It’s not fact, it’s exactly what has happened so far, in my own words. And the horrible realisation is that I haven’t even gotten to the worst part yet.

Day One Dark

Houston, can you hear me? I’m ready to talk nowimages

It’s hard to tell you when this all started. For several months I went through various stages. First I thought it had something to do with me giving up smoking. They say certain chemicals in your brain realign to make you think and act differently. What a load of shit. At one point it was due to my diet and lifestyle and a lack of blood sugar. So within a day I stopped eating shit. Started exercising and eating breakfast. That didn’t last long.

When I finally admitted to myself I needed help, I decided to speak to a doctor. This took a lot more effort than some might think. It’s hard to tell yourself you need help, to know you’re not right.

Anxiety. Depression. OCD. Wham bam thank you ma’am. Part of me had a feeling, part of this was a complete surprise.

Let me be clear on this. I was not told I had depression because I was down or upset, it was all the anxiety. Anxiety makes you run from everything. Being stuck in my room for days on end and the only company I had were my thoughts is what ultimately aided my depression to kick in.

They say it’s not about the good days, or the bad ones. It’s about how you deal with them when they come.

To anyone who is still out there reading this, thank you. But my story is only just beginning.


My Story

Okay. So. I wasn’t going to write my story here, however I’ve come to find there’s far too much to say for it to all fit on one page. Also, who wants to read all this shit at once when I can blog like the rest of the interweb.

In early spring 2015 I was diagnosed with Anxiety, Depression and a type of OCD. Not the type that people claim they have just because they like their pens in a certain order or eat their food in a certain of way. No, I actually have OCD. The type that takes up most of your day doing things that you feel no one understands or would think of doing each and every day for almost a year now.

I don’t get anxious about going out on a Saturday night or going for a job interview. I get anxious about all the things I shouldn’t and all the things I still don’t understand or accept. There is no feeling worse than a panic attack. For those who read this and disagree or don’t understand, let me explain…

Of course there are worse feelings, but in that moment, the moment when you’ve lost all control, there is nothing worse. The way the air escapes your lungs and your heart thumps out your chest and your head is spinning. I know what you’re thinking – sounds like a hangover right? Wrong. The one thing I purposely missed off is the most vital – Fear. Fear is the worst emotion a human can have. In that moment, nothing is worse than fear. So, if you were in that moment, would you fight or flight?

What is depression? Feeling down? Hopeless? Defeated? My theory is we will all suffer from depression at one point in our lives, whether that’s through an action or an event, or if the illness creeps up on you from nowhere. I know you hear this a lot but its true: Depression is an illness, not a weakness. In some ways I see the world is still not addressing this it should, and in other ways it’s gone the polar opposite and through common misconception people are forced to believe they are depressed just because they’ve had a bad day or something didn’t go the way they wanted it to.

However, I’m being rather vague. So this is my story. And why am I going to blog about it? Because I can. I hope some readers find comfort in this. And if any of you think you suffer from the same but you’re unsure. Please ask someone for help.

Thank You,