The following is from my other site (thegrantburton.weebly.com). I’m simply moving it to this site. No need to read if you’ve already done so, or, if you just don’t want to.
This is something unusual. This is something I don’t think I’ve ever done before. It’s a compulsive thing. I’m writing from the top of my head and seeing where it takes me.
Usually when I write something, I plan it out thoroughly. Every minute detail is thought about before I write it. That includes all the things I post on Facebook & Twitter. I like to think that’s me being cautious & deliberate but in all honesty I think it’s just me having a bit of OCD or something like that.
What you’re about to read (assuming you’ve read to this point & plan on continuing) is a stream of thought. It’s almost like a public diary. I don’t know what I’ll say, but I know the topic. Me. I get the feeling most people don’t know me that well. I’m hoping to shine a light on that a bit.
All my life I’ve considered myself a pretty private person. Those of you that know me to some extent will know I’m an incredibly quiet person. I wish I wasn’t. Truly. I’m shy. There’s no doubt about that. But why? Simply put, I have no idea exactly why & that bugs me. I’m not scared of talking to people. Talking to people is not a scary thing to do. But when I talk to people. Particularly to people I either don’t know, know very little about, don’t like or find intimidating (for whatever reason), I panic. My cheeks go red, I sweat, my speech slurs & my mind goes blank. This paints me as a weird & awkward person, I imagine. But I’m not. Look at the way I act around my family & best friends. I’m constantly talking, laughing, cracking jokes & acting like a child. You honestly wouldn’t think I’m 24. That’s the real me, but very few people ever see that side of me. I could count those people on 1 hand (literally).
I don’t have many friends. I rarely see the people I consider friends & I often wonder & worry about whether or not they are actually my friends. I like to think the reason for this is what’s mentioned in the above paragraph. It might not be though. I might just be a dick or an ass & not realise it. I might just be incredibly boring. I certainly think I am at times. I don’t know. Maybe I fail to show interest in anything that doesn’t interest me. All I really seem to like is film, TV, books & video games. Anything else just bores me . That might explain my lack of friends. It might not though.
It’s upsetting at times. I get miserable thinking about it. I’ve grown used to it over time though. While I’m better off than most people I’ve had plenty of bad luck & I’ve experienced a lot of bad things in my life. That’s gave me quite a hard exterior. I no longer get fased by bad things. Not all the time, anyway.
One of those bad things is my battle with cancer. My 2 battles with cancer. The second of which I’m still going through. I was first diagnosed at the age of 17. This was when I was in sixth form. I was starting my a-levels & making friends. Life was pretty good until I went to the doctors. 2009 was the worst year of my life, followed closely behind by 2014-15. In my 1st battle with cancer, I underwent 6 months of chemotherapy & I had 4 surgeries. This was a period in which I literally couldn’t leave the house or the hospital. On a good day, I could sit in a chair & watch TV. On a bad day, I couldn’t do anything but sleep (or try to). That’s not the worst part though. The worst part is that while I was at home suffering, the people I considered friends were going out on weekends & evenings & doing everything a person of 17 should be doing. This sounds like I’m blaming them. I’m NOT. Far from it. It’s just annoying. When I was better, I couldn’t catch up. I struggled to adjust to my new life. Life after cancer. My friends had changed over that period. They went from being teenagers to young adults. I hadn’t. I missed the transitional stage & my connection to my friends diminished, greatly. No one was to blame.
It wasn’t until I went to Northumbria University when things finally started getting good for me. I met new people, people who I now consider my best friends. Even though I never see them anymore. They’re either off travelling or they live elsewhere. That’s fine. That’s great 🙂 seriously. It was in university when I realised life was good, or it could be at least. My skills at talking amongst others improved (slightly) I actually forced myself to improve. I felt I had to. It helped having someone I knew from middle school, high school & sixth form there. The familiar face made it easier & I doubt I would’ve made so many friends in university had that person not been there.
The people I met there were amazing. One person, who was only there for a year, is probably the most fascinating, energetic & likable person I’ve ever met. I met people of different cultures & backgrounds, someone from Ireland & someone from Wales, both of whom’s accents were amazing. To my surprise, I even befriended the lecturers. I don’t think that’s an odd thing. I just didn’t expect it to happen. There were of course many more great people of interest whom I could go on describing in detail but fail to do them justice. The people I’ve mentioned probably know who they are (if they’re reading this or been told to by someone other than me), I don’t mind, I’ve said nothing but good things about them. I’m also just assuming they’re my friends, if not, well, Ike a said, I rarely see them anymore. I could say more but I best get back on topic though. Yeah? This is supposed to be about me after all.
I was still behind though. I don’t drink. If you’re lucky I might have 1 drink but it’s rare. Remember when I had cancer. Yeah? Well that’s when all my friends started having a night & social life. I didn’t really start until university & even then it was baby steps. I dabbled a bit beforehand though, just not as much as everyone else and not as much as I wish I could have.
This all sounds like I’m moaning & complaining. I’m not. I don’t think I am anyhow. It’s certainly not my intention. I’m simply trying to explain myself. And I mean that in the most literal way possible. I’m trying to explain myself. Hopefully that makes sense. I want to clarify some things, I do have a social life. It’s minuscule & crap but it’s there. I had it before, during & after I had cancer. I don’t want to get all personal & private but I felt the need to clarify that.
If you’ve read this far, thank you. I’m sorry you’ve had to read this dribble. It probably makes little sense & you probably think I’m some sort of lonesome weirdo or something. You also probably want an explanation as to why I’ve wrote this.
So, why? I wish I could say. Really I do. I just felt compelled. I might just be some sort of narcissist craving for attention. I don’t think I am though. When I started writing this, half asleep, bored, in the middle of the night, I was asking myself why. I hoped I’d have an answer by time I finished it. But I don’t. I don’t want sympathy & I don’t want attention. That’s for certain. Make of it & me whatever you like. I consider myself a writer. Maybe I just wanted to experiment & write something that wasn’t fictional or film/tv related.
There are obviously big blank spaces. I’ve not addressed my time studying for an MA, I haven’t mentioned my lifelong suffering of chronic headaches, I haven’t mentioned much in the way of good things either now that I think of it. I’ve not mentioned my immense love of all things Star Wars & I haven’t mentioned the 1 thing I truly love (my dog.) This has probably been a depressing, dreary read. Now I’m laughing. Sorry. Maybe I’ll do another of these. Maybe I won’t. I’ll probably delete this, edit & remove bits or maybe I won’t have the courage to post it. I have mentioned my immense fear of attention. Yes? Who knows? I’m waffling on now & you’re probably bored enough as it is, so I hope this has been interesting & revealing (but not too revealing or shocking.) I don’t think I’ve wrote anything that should surprise people too much. I certainly hope I haven’t wrote anything bad about anyone. Anyhow… Bye, for now.