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A while ago I had the idea to print tactile, accessible art poems – art poems which anyone could afford to purchase and enjoy which still had a touch of uniqueness to it.

These never sold (that’s like, the story of my life) so the original prototypes still exist, and as such there’s only one of each poem, and only ever will be in this form.

The first poem going up for auction is a poem called ‘Home’. You can read it here: http://capoe.co.uk/home

This auction is raising money for Samaritans, a charity that has helped me in the past to see that things are solvable and it’s better to stick around. They save lives and do impossibly important work, and 100% of the final auction total will go direct to them.

The auction will run for seven days, Monday 8pm to Monday 8pm.

Here’s the link, feel free to share it around!

https://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/392491351430

Thank you for taking the time to read, as always, and I hope you’ll consider bidding.

Love, Poe. xx

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I don’t know if I owe an apology, or an explanation, or anything. Navigating this new territory of being known, not necessarily by a large group of people, certainly, but a larger group of people than I’m used to, by a country mile, is difficult.

Perhaps you understand, if you’ve read the book, that my self esteem is… non-existent. And that I shy away from any form of criticism, however well intended, because I don’t have much sense of self, I know enough about myself to know I don’t really know much about myself at all.

Social awkwardness, it appears, extends to the internet, and with that sense of responsibility, of, oh shit, I have to stand for something and I’m definitely not the most qualified person in the room to do this – it’s a little scary.

I wrote my life down, reached in deep and pulled it all out, because I really hoped it would help somebody. But having read your messages, it seems there needs to be so much more work done than I even know how to begin. People are still finding themselves or their children in the same situation I was in all those years ago. It’s horrifying to read, and difficult to stomach. I hoped things were, at least, a little better now. But each message I read brings it all back in vivid detail, and whilst I appreciate people reaching out, it’s a tough one to deal with.

I suffer with depression a lot. More than I talked about in the book. I’m struggling with it right now, and people who knew me predicted this particular bout – there was the hype and the high of the book release, and then the fall of… nothing in my life really changing. I’d achieved my life goal, and I didn’t feel any different. It didn’t feel real. It still doesn’t. I keep expecting it to hit me, that I did the thing I always dreamed of doing, but it hasn’t yet. Maybe one day it will, or maybe this denial of accomplishment is going to dog me for a while yet.

A lot of bad stuff has been happening in my personal life too, stuff I don’t want to dredge up here because it is, as it should be, personal. But this last week especially has been particularly difficult, and piling on a bunch of personal failures to leave the house to do things I would have enjoyed, it’s become a bit of a spiral of badness.

I’m sure a few of you reading this can recognise that spiral, and how vicious and overwhelming it can become.

I’m trying to break out of it. I have a really great friend who is helping me, and of course, my family, who are always there to support me. But the world is so much bigger than my tiny bubble, and it seems meaner by the day. Watching the news, scrolling through Twitter, just trying to exist in this world, it feels like people have forgotten how to be kind.

Kindness is key.

I want to try be better. It’s horrible being inside every day with nothing to look forward to. And with the festive season coming, for the sake of the kids if nothing else, I need to put on a happy face. I want to keep writing, keep creating, and to try make this world a better place, no matter how small a change I make.

I’m sorry for my inconsistency recently. It’s really hard living in your own head when your own head (that you live in) is lying to you. There’s probably some deep philosophical word for that, but I failed Philosophy rather spectacularly, so don’t ask me.

Tomorrow I’m going to make a post about the first of what I hope will be a series of charity auctions to raise money for various causes I hope you’ll partake in. 100% of the money raised will go directly to the charities in question, and I want to focus on causes that matter to me, and who will help make the world a better place with any money raised. I really hope you’ll support me in this, despite my wobbliness. I’ll post a link when the first auction goes live.

I’m trying. I know it doesn’t seem like it. I know it seems like I’m ungrateful. But, it turns out, life doesn’t get magically better just because you have a book in Waterstones. It should, but it doesn’t.

So, I’m going to post this, and then try sleep off my migraine. I want to try to foster some sense of community despite my varied and uncoordinated posts, and I need your help with ideas on how to accomplish that. We are stronger together than we are apart, and I am willing to learn. It is incredibly hard for me to engage in social interaction, especially with my brain playing nasty tricks on me, but I’m willing to try, if you’ll let me.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope you have a great day.

Love, Poe. xx