“To Be Or Not To Be”: Spoken by Hamlet, Act 3 Scene 1
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles.

I wake in the morning, everyday, and think “who am i?”. The answer always comes bouncing back with another question,….”I dunno; who do i want to be?”…….”i dunno”, and so it goes on. Right now i don’t want to be; i can’t be; i can’t be me. My computer has been hacked; all privacy snatched away and i’m furious, particularly as i found out that the hacker is a close relative of mine ( or was close but is no longer!).

I have a glowing, hot ball of fire swirling around my stomach, like a bomb primed to explode at any given moment. I feel that i have been violated, yet again, my identity taken away, my skin ripped off, my soul exposed. My relative is as much an abuser as my childhood abusers. I find myself running away from my own identity. I create alias after alias in an angry bid to escape not only my abusers but my very self. But it doesn’t help. I keep coming back to me, and as i said, i don’t want to be me; i don’t want to be at all. I’m totally pissed off because i don’t know who i am now – am i ‘a’ or am i ‘b’, or am i ‘xyz’. Who knows? Who cares? Who gives a flying fuck anyway?

I give in, i crumble; i take a drink and pills to kill the anxiety. I cut my arm, not deeply, but enough to take away the pain. I’ve blown my sobriety…..shit! What a mess this is, what a bloody mess, turning me into a mess too, into the quagmire.


 Fuck this life; I’ve had enough

My life has turned out much too rough

Knocked back the drink so blown sobriety

Too much pain and too much anxiety


Just an amoeba floating in the water

My lifespan seems to be getting shorter

Because I choose to abuse my body

My fucking life is just so shoddy


Taken drink and pills to quell the anger

This lot could fill an airplane hangar

Pills for the hurt; drink for the pain

Sanity dripping slowly down the drain


Rationality has gone out the window

Life has become so touch and go

Do I honestly want to be here?

When nothing at all seems very clear?


Confusion reigns and terror too

And that is just the residue

Power and strength have long since gone

Life is really just one big con


Into the quagmire, into this mess

Looking at me, would anyone guess?

I’m just a junkie and on the piss

If I died, would I be missed?

                                    black-white head to be or not to be