welcome to my profile, it's a bunch of words i've typed up at some
point in my life. all of these words are my truth. truthful words
either written and posted on facebook, or truthful words written
from me to another. i have a strange affinity for words... i seem
to be able to feel them, as if they truly capture the essence of
one's soul. and here is my soul, in all it's humble glory. make of
what you will from my words, my truth. am i a depressed poet? i
don't know. i care much for labels, just know that these are words
that i have used to expressed my thoughts and feelings at one time
another. why? why this? well, this is who i truly am, i suppose?
our thoughts and feelings... they too, are fleeting, as fleeting as
life itself, but they capture the soul better than a photograph.
they capture the soul better than the forced effort to make people
like you on a dating site. this is who i truly am, or who i truly
was, depending on your perspective. i wrote these words in the
past, so is it really true to say that these words represent me, or
more represent who i have been? i like thinking, i like words.
sometimes i like people... sometimes i'm not depressed. i am
currently 27/27 on the NHS depression test, so it feels great to
get full marks in something. TEE HEE. and there i use humour to
mask how dire my condition is, but where's the fun in being a
killjoy? anyway. i'm here because, fates being kind, i won't ALWAYS
be depressed. spring follows winter, day follows night, happiness
follows sadness. and so i prepare for that day. i'm here to find
wonderfully kind-hearted souls, in my wounded, vulnerable state.
happy calum is very different to sad calum, if 2012 is anything to
go by, so expect spontaneous, whirlwind adventures, childish charm,
and sweet-boy romantic antics. but, maybe the next incarnation of
calum won't resemble 2012 calum, who knows? maybe he'll resemble
the calculating, cunning, callous calum of ages of past... i sure
hope not. at the end of the day, i'm looking for a sweet girl that
likes sweet boys. this is what i want right now, at least. i want
kindred spirits. opposites may attract and all that jazz, but in my
experience, opposites create discord and conflict. you see? i'm
very wordy. i've never been this wordy. but this is who i am right
now. very thoughtful, very kind, very wordy. i could type on and
on, but i suppose that would be kinda narcissistic? i do quite
enjoy writing though, it distracts me and gives me a temporary
feeling of purpose. maybe because it's the only way i can truly get
what's in my mind-space out into this world? i don't know. okay,
i've typed enough. if you've read this far, then i suppose you've
already made your mind up on whether you like me or not. the
majority of people on here would have seen the walls of text and
thought, "fuck this shit", and clicked [x]. but for the readers and
writers and thinkers and feelers amongst you, hello. i am calum.
welcome to my truth. smiley face. :)
i believe that we can only do what we're inspired to do, what we
feel like doing. take from that what you will. consider everything
you have not been inspired to do, consider everything you have been
inspired to do. consider what you are doing presently. consider
everything you are not doing presently. whatever. i was inspired to
go outside today. i went outside. i wandered. i observed. i smiled.
i laughed. i was almost brought to tears. i told a charity mugger
to go to st annes because blackpool is full of poor people. i
drummed on the railings of the promenade. i reflected on matters of
fate, inspiration, and purpose. i tuned in to the music of life all
around me. i was blessed with ideas. i found myself inspired to
wander around the tower. to where my mother once worked in a
fortune telling/tarot kiosk. it's nothing but an empty space now,
but it's still there, in a different place in time. ghosts of the
past, still there. i found myself inspired to enter the darkened
room opposite. i imagined myself picking the pathetic padlock
"guarding" the gift shop, i'm too good to do that, but i took great
pride in knowing that i was at least capable of doing so, if i was
that way inclined. the room had a few coin-operated attractions; a
photobooth; and a couple of other machines not worth remembering.
there was a fortune telling machine, but "oddly" enough, there was
a fortune card that had been dispensed, but not collected. i took
it. much more happened this day, but i don't feel inspired to write
further about it. it was magical. or at least, there is a bastion
of magic that still exists in this soulless, decrepit town.
blackpool tower ballroom. magic lives there. memento mori.