When I wrote the first "Liam Robertson" I found it a way to vent my problems to anyone who wanted to listen. I detested pushing my experiences and beliefs on people I knew and found typing it all out a much easier source of stress-relief.
For lack of a better term, I was elated to see who read it. The kind of support and care that was handled in a private way for voicing such a public view of the past. It became almost, redundant however, I felt like each new entry became a struggle to clarify some immediate problem I had and I was desperate for help and hope.
This isn't that. This is a recollection of everything from the past up until now. No pandering, no forced viewing or pushing agenda of any kind. Raw vulnerability in the purest sense.
To describe myself early on, I was an optimist. Incredibly optimistic to the point where no problem couldn't be solved without enough perseverance. Early on I had a pretty flawless childhood, typical things happened like parents splitting and the few odd signs of "real life" began to emerge but I ignored them. In my blissful, untainted image of the world that existed in my mind.
I made quite sincere connections with friends and a girl who I'd excitedly call on my home-phone for hours at a time. I had a best friend, and we were inseparable. Not to say that I didn't appreciate my other friends too, I was quite the social butterfly and found my niche group of friends with similar interests quickly.
I wasn't really interested in sport or fashion. It was all about tech and media. I was obsessed with games, and loved the social aspect of them. My dad was the same, introducing me to consoles, arcades and anything I could control. I admired other skills too, drawing being one I loved to try, but was never any good at. Me and my best friend pumped out a comic series where I did all the writing and discovered that was more my thing, however crap it probably was at the time.
I had some pretty strange experiences with friends too. I couldn't really recognise the "rough" areas or flaws that existed in the world at the time. I'd go to friends houses, oblivious to what their living situation was and eating cheap meals while parents argued in the background. I witnessed forms of abuse on a few different levels but never really considered anything of it as it didn't interfere with my own purity. Not to say it didn't make my heart race on a couple of occasions.
Being a kid, you don't really think of the consequences of anything. Just the moment and future and what things lead up to. I didn't really care about anything, just living the standard life and not thinking anything of it.
Secondary school is where things changed.
During the whole "choosing-what-school-to-go-to" phase. I was introduced to a world of people obsessed with social media and Instagram became the newest hot thing that people flocked to. At first, I didn't care. People using their phones at school was a cool concept to me, but only because I could download games. For that reason, I preferred the iPod I was bought for that purpose. I could still do that other stuff on it if I wanted to, except I didn't initially.
When school started, that changed. I was pretty much an outcast because I didn't use those kind of apps and give a shit about who was doing what at home or rating what picture to use and tag your friends in. I eventually adopted it, after peer pressure and created my account with my gamertag from Xbox. (Yes, already a cool guy.) Fortunately, I didn't have a name that provoked misogyny, racism or sexism so was in the clear.
It was actually quite fun at the start, finding people from my first school and adding them but I wasn't actually able to talk to them since I didn't have a phone. (For context, you needed a phone to DM people and the iPod lacked that feature.) I didn't really care though, a few awkward posts was still communication nonetheless. I was pretty intrigued in finding people I knew, so I'd stalk other people's follower lists until I discovered someone I thought I recognised.
I eventually found someone with an interesting account. A girl, I had no idea who she was, but her name was "itsokaytobedifferent" with a very colourful aesthetic. It was an oddly compelling revelation that I could even contact her. But I followed, and innocently commented under one of her posts about being supportive for a mental health awareness campaign. It didn't phase me, as I assumed I'd be ignored. She had over a thousand followers, was cool and (I assumed,) trendy.
During this time and a few weeks at school going by, I actually upgraded to get my mum's old phone (I wanted to play Crossy Road) and I looked and saw I had numerous DM requests from people I knew. Even this girl that I thought would ignore me.
To say I was a little taken aback was an understatement. I had no concept of social conventions or trying to enter any kind of relationship with this person. My intentions were honourable and in my purity, just wanted to understand the mental health campaign. She was essentially an unobtainable force that I couldn't comprehend would message me.
Fast forward, and we're chatting on Kik. I liked Kik initially, I knew nothing about the shady background or undertones and easy access that groomers had on it. All I cared about, besides her, was collecting all the sloth emojis that you could spin a wheel every 3 days and gain coins to purchase them. She had nearly all of them, which made me want them even more. My social skills definitely dropped at school, I became heavily introverted and any conversation with fellow pupils wasn't up to the standard or calibre of talking to this girl.
We talked endlessly. I tried my absolute hardest to understand everything about her. Her humour, her struggles and more importantly mental health. Prior to her, I had never heard of this concept of having mental stability, anxiety or sad thoughts. I pondered on it, as I read her words but having no familiarity, all I could do was persevere and be there for her.
I wanted my optimism to be hers. I wanted to be the person she needed and never disappoint her. I wanted to understand.
I became an insomniac, a total zombie at school. I was tired, and unaware of how I felt. I'd feel frustrated that despite doing my best for months. She was exactly the same. She got bullied a lot, online through other means. In my haste of trying to help, I'd inadvertently become a target myself. I often found myself in positions without any recollection of how I got there. To trying to talk people I didn't know down from suicide and failing. To getting harassed daily by people that didn't like her.
Cute videos were posted by "friends" turned out to be beheadings or other gore related videos. I didn't feel like I could explain this to anyone so I kept it all to myself and didn't speak for a week. I knew it wasn't normal, for my only friend at this place to be someone I hadn't even seen their face of for nearly a year. I was stuck and alone. My innocence shattered and hope of uplifting her dwindling.
Since my grades were dropping from not having energy to focus. I moved down a set and made friends with someone who introduced me to their own group of friends. They were great, immediately I quickly became acquainted with this new chaotic bunch of people who shared a similar humour to me. I felt like I belonged somewhere, even if I could only hang out with them at lunch.
I started to distance myself from her. It felt like a bigger stab in the heart when she did the same and we began only talking every other day or sometimes not for a week. She was still my best friend, but I knew that she was hurting me.
