'My Murder'

Just watched a BBC series called ‘My Murder’ & it wasn’t a comfortable watch. Sort of done my nut a bit so I’m going to vent about it with one of my reviews which are rarely relevant to the thing I’m reviewing, but more reflecting on how what I’m reviewing coincides with my life. 

I’ve been living in this bubble of there being this freedom out there, somewhere you can go when your soul is ready and there’s no troubles and all the things you need in life are there for you because you’ve persisted and worked hard for them, you’ve been a kind and loving person with a non-egotistic nature, so the universe will naturally return positivity to you.

Then somebody recommended me this programme, and if the concepts of the universe being spiritually in touch with the human soul is true then I guess I’d better consider that I’ve been shown this programme for a reason. The first thing that comes to mind, as usually is the case with true story-based programmes is the question: “why the fuck are these people so fucked up and what is their motive for all of this violent nature?” - It’s a question that’s been theoretically answered by people who are far more knowledgeable on the subject than myself.

I’ve seen a friend of mine commenting on the programme and one of the things he said which stuck in my mind was “it wasn’t like the media portrayed, he wasn’t such an angel.” This is sort of what’s got me freaking out a bit about the whole thing. I consider myself a good guy but I keep finding myself in trouble, I feel constantly pented and sometimes have to rebel and do mischievous things, I lose my temper, my sense of composure and sense of care for repercussions; especially after a load of alcohol down the trap. I’ve got good intentions but keep doing stupid things.

This programme has reminded me of my mortality and is making me question if negativity as bad as this could still come to me even if I’m on a positive path. 

Earlier this year it felt like to pursue my ‘dreams’ I was being dragged towards moving to London, like that’s where I needed to be and that’s where I needed to go to progress. Brighton seems to have expired its excitement. I used to love the people and the vibe there, but it doesn’t seem the same anymore, or at least didn’t last time I went. Actually, my memories back to the whole night are all entirely dark in setting, but I digress.

So I thought I was moving to London, but then I watched this programme, and remembered everything I previously knew about London before I met the ancient romantic feeling of it that must have been sweat that the old bricks and concrete had swallowed and stored away since the period of men in top hats feeling intense lust for women selling themselves to the night for a bottle of gin to wash away the pain of poverty, arising up into the atmosphere and into my nostrils enticing my passion. London is a beautiful place, but it’s always been dark in nature throughout history. Wabi Sabi.

Tragedy is possibly my greatest fear. The idea of a death being even worse because everything looked so positive.

I can’t end on that note, I’m going to list some positive steps for myself to pull me out of this mind frame.

- Must start a martial art to be able to defend myself better and have a more disciplined mind when it comes to my temper and composure.

- Must continue to search for the city that speaks to my personality.