Crack In The Wall

When there’s a crack in the wall, do you demolish the house?

Do you look at this fissure and say “no, that’ll cost too much, it’ll take too long” and instead choose to destroy the whole house you’ve built?

Ultimately, the house might end up weaker. It could be a flimsy repair. It could crack again. But is that not better than just packing it all in and levelling all of your hard work?

There are so many memories in that house. It’s not fair to destroy it over one crack.



She’s my heroin.

She’s pumping through my veins, she has become a part of me. I crave her, my hands yearn to hold hers.

She’s always on my mind. It pains me to know she is living and breathing without me. It pains me to close my eyes and see us together, knowing it’s just a vision.

My heart aches when I remember how she smells. Every fibre of my being convulses in agony when I remember the night we spent together, and how it was the only night we’ll spend together. 

I envy junkies and drug addicts.

They get their fix eventually. 

I just tap hopelessly on the screen. 

Last Week Of College

I am facing down the barrel of my last week of my first (actually third) year of college.

Multimedia has been a wild ride. There have been ups, there have been downs, there have been some more downs, and then some gigantic peaks. Not in that order. I’ve made some great friends; true friends. I’ve trimmed some of the weight off that faux friends bring. But I still yearn for something more.

I’ve met a lot of creative people in my time, both this year and through my travels. I met Caoilfhionn, a talented photographer, Kev, an incredible visual designer with a clothing label. There’s Aaron and Ciarán, both DJs. Some singers, some guitarists, some videographers. All astonishingly gifted in their fields. All approached by people at various times to help them out. They’ve been sought out for their talent. And that is what I want.



I’ve had a great few months. 

I set up my own college society, I have had a great time with new, real friends and there was even an incredible date along the way. 

The society is Sober Soc, because I don’t drink.


And there’s nothing to do in DCU without alcohol. Now there is though, and we’re growing. With myself at the helm, a very exciting and daunting thing. I’ve been interviewed a few times for different magazines, including this one. It’s been going well, I’ve been getting applause everywhere I go. People love it. I can’t complain at all.


My Mind’s Playing Tricks With Me

I love music.

More than anything. It’s all I’ve ever done, it’s been my only hobby. When everyone else was playing Playstation or Xbox, I was playing guitar (with the occasional dip into the Sega Megadrive or Nintendo 64 – I’m that cool) and writing lyrics.

When people say ‘music is my life, I listen to it all the time’, they don’t listen to it nearly as often as I do. I leave music playing in my room most of the day, so if I step into it for a second, I can hear the crack of a snare or the twang of a steel string. I won’t go anywhere without my MP3 player, which is loaded with album upon album. If I listen to music in the kitchen, it’s turned up to it’s fullest so I can hear it everywhere. Silence does not sit well with me.

It seems that I love music, since I write so much of it and since it’s always flowing into my ears.

But really, I hate music more often than I love it.


The Pattern Resumes

Ups and downs are common everywhere and for everyone. Downs are unavoidable, they can be anything. Ups are equally unavoidable, though it seems odd to describe them as such. It’s bitingly obvious that some lives are dictated by more prevalent Ups than Downs, and vice versa.

I try to maintain a positive outlook, as bizarre as that might seem from reading these posts. But very, very few people know the extent of my fibromyalgia. Even fewer know I’ve taken anti-depressants. And of the handful that have listened to my lyrics or read them, a tiny percentage know that those are emotions I feel, those are situations I’ve been in. The rest (I assume) think it’s all a fictional account, which is something I’ve pointed towards in the past, in fairness. I don’t let my bleak existence permeate into my everyday encounters with people, no matter how few and far between those may be.


I’m Losing My Edge

I’m losing my edge.

No, I’ve lost my edge. I lost it a long time ago.

When I was in school, was the guy to go to for a gig. I knew everyone, I had all the numbers, all the email addresses, all the contacts. I could show up to a meeting with a promoter and just show my face and they’d give my band a gig on the spot. Then I was (misdiagnosed – long story) with arthritis and my band broke up. I started rapping with a new band, and fell away from everything I knew.