As I lay in bed on the morning of April 29th having my first wank as a 15-year-old, I made a promise to myself that this year I’d get my hole for sure.  Didn't want to be waiting till I was legal for fuck’s sake. After wiping myself off with a crusty sock, I began to hatch a plan to do just that.

Typically, it was pishing with rain on a cold Monday morning.  “Welcome to your 16th year” I sighed to myself as I trudged off to school.  I wondered if this would be the last few months of having to go through the rigmarole of education at Douglas Fucking Ewart High School.  There wasn’t even a ‘Douglas Ewart’ in the first place – what a waste of time...

I noticed that 2001: A Space Odyssey was showing at The Picture House cinema in a couple of months.  "Get a date, take her to that, cherry popped”, I thought fancifully, chuckling to myself.

Arriving at Douglas Fucking Ewart (as it was known to all of us), I clocked a poster for an upcoming school dance. Friday night.  Now you’re talking.  A DJ was playing the sounds of the day and there was even a band called Chains Of Remorse playing. Surely, I could take my pick of the girls at that! Picked a ticket up at lunchtime for 20p. Sorted...

A few of my pals had started experimenting with alcohol by this stage, but I was yet to “get steaming” as the saying went. In fact, apart from a few crafty sips out of a can of my dad’s pale ale I was a stranger to the booze. This was all set to change on the day of the school dance, for we were going to increase our pulling chances by consuming a carry-out prior to heading in.

As the tallest from our group, it fell to me to do the deed.  A few of us got the bus to Wigtown as the Newton Stewart shopkeepers all knew my dad.  Fucking ministers – they know everyone. With a pocketful of coins and notes, I went into the first shop we found and got a selection of beer and cider, along with a half-bottle of vodka that we had agreed to pass round. 

It was surprisingly easy to get served, and I managed to save a few pence off my own carryout by rounding up the others’ bills.  Result!

When we got back to Newton Stewart it slowly dawned on us that we were going to have to stash the booze somewhere as it was a bit bulky and none of us fancied trying to sneak it past our nosey parents. After some deliberation it was decided to hide it amongst some leaves that had blown up against the wall of the sheltered housing. After recent winds there was a massive pile that was a good couple of feet deep.  Perfect!  Right on our route home as well.

Off we went to our respective homes to have our tea and get ready for the night’s adventure...

FUCK.  Some bastard's nicked the carryout!  No way. This was not part of the masterplan. How on earth had that happened?  The booze had only been there for a couple of hours, and nobody had seen us stash it. Or had they? There was a brief moment when we started to blame each other, and it nearly got nasty, but then I stepped in and did the peace maker act.  Everyone was a bit pished off about the enforced sobriety, but off we went to the dance, minus carryout.  You never know – it might be alright.  And anyway, I wouldn’t miss what I hadn’t had – getting steaming could wait for another time.

When we arrived at the school, the dancing had started and some of the cooler folk were already winching. It felt a bit awkward at first.  All thoughts of getting a lumber went out of the window when the band came on.  The place erupted when they played a cover of current chart hit Born To Be Wild.  Now THIS is what it’s all about.  My first experience of live music. There was a moment of comedy gold as well when the bass drum rolled forwards and nearly went off the stage. “How’s that for a drum roll”, said the singer.  I bet he’s got a girlfriend – maybe this is where I should be concentrating my efforts.

The dance actually ended up being a great night.  As well as discovering the joy of live music courtesy of Chains Of Remorse, the records the DJ played were right up my street, and it was funny as fuck seeing some of the younger teachers attempting to dance – some of them looked like they were steaming, maybe they nicked our carryout...

Normal service of attempting to get a shag resumed shortly after this. As if to rub salt in the wound, my pal Nicky returned from a weekend away in Glasgow claiming that not only had he lost his virginity, but the experience had been like ‘a bad wank’. Sounded believable enough, but I wouldn’t mind finding that out for myself.

Back to the drawing board a couple of months later, I got a pair of tickets for a showing of 2001 at The Picture House the following week.  In a rare moment of self-confidence I asked Lorna in my English class if she fancied coming along with me.  Unbelievably she said ‘yes’ and I was on cloud nine. Was this going tae be it? As the day approached I read up on some reviews of the film.  I figured that we could go for a coffee before it and I would impress her with my chat and film-buffery. Never mind that I had never ‘gone for a coffee’ in my life before, not even with my mum and dad.
Headline in The Galloway Gazette the next day: PICTURE HOUSE CLOSES DOWN. Typical...

This is the year I had my first glance into the abyss. I was out with a couple of friends, one of them I hadn't seen for a few months. We’d gone for a walk through the woods as usual and gone to our usual spot where we’d sit on a couple of the trees, have a small fire and chat about anything. On this day however, things took a turn. The friend I hadn't seen for a while, was quite grumpy, his responses to things I said were pishy and angry. Any jokes I made went down like a lead balloon with him and attempts at lightening the mood only seemed to further irritate him. The other friend played peacekeeper, smoothing things over or regularly changing the subject when the conversation started getting a little heated. That didn’t stop him though, he said I wasn't funny and was an idiot. My presence was infuriating him.

Due to the awkwardness of the conversation, we ended up going hame earlier than usual as the daylight was beginning to wane. I took the long way hame to give me time to think, to process what had happened.  I started to dwell on what my friend had said, trying to work out why I seemed to pish him off. Was this my fault? Of course! It had to be me at fault, otherwise why would he react like that, but what had I done? My mood soured as I got closer to home. I went to my room and put on an upbeat record to try to pick my mood up. It did not work, in fact I had to turn it off after the first chorus. It grated on me. I was starting to feel a little emotional, in my head I continued to replay the events of the evening. What could I do to make things better? What an awful friend I was, causing my friend to verbally lash out at me? Sinking lower, I started wondering, what was I going to do with my life? I felt useless, am I good at anything? I turned off the light and sat down on the stool, the one I made last summer that sits by the window. I looked out into the darkness of the night sky, hoping to see answers.

Why am I here? What is my purpose? I start thinking about the slight mistake I made making the stool, I know I worked around it but there was a mistake, I’d made a hole where I shouldn’t hae. It was filled, now, not noticeable, but it shouldnae be there. Other people might not see it, but I know it is there, I know it isn't perfect. I should have got this right first time, it is flawed, it doesn't matter that other people can't see it, but I can. It is the first thing I notice about this stool, why do I make mistakes like this? 

Only someone who has no value could do shite like this, I am that person. What would it be like if I wasn't here? Would anyone miss me, clearly my friend would not. The one wasn't interested in sticking up for me and calling out our friend for acting up, instead he just tried to ignore it. What a wonderful friend I must be! 

No one cares about me. When did my father last say he was proud of me? Has he ever been? Yes, there have been platitudes but were they meant or just lip service, saying what is expected? My mother is the same, does she just do this because it is her role in society? What would the neighbours think if she showed any interest in her child? She'd be like the woman a few streets away who everyone gossips about, neglecting her kids. No one has a nice word to say about her. No one seems to have a nice word to say about me either. What if I just wasn't here? I don't think anyone would really notice I was missing. Yes, what about ending it all. How would I do it though, how to avoid pain? What about where they used to drown witches when the tide came in? Go down there at night in the dark, the cold won't matter, it will only be temporary. I imagine stepping into the cold water feeling the sensations in my mind as I walk out. I feel my feet pulling at the mud with each step, becoming heavier and heavier as I get further out. The mud pulling me down, the freezing tide coming in around my head.

A tear rolling down my cheek snaps me out of my thoughts, followed by another, then another. They flow, I don't bother to try to wipe them away, they drip off my nose and cheeks onto the carpet. I am shrouded in a feeling of utter worthlessness. The tears dripping off my nose seem to drip faster. One slides across my lips and has a metallic taste to it and realise my nose is bleeding. I sit on my stool as my nose drips, not caring about the mess being made. I don't care about anything, wallowing in misery. In a twisted way, I don’t want this to stop. After my nose stopped bleeding, I sat for a while, a minute? An hour? I couldn’t say. Exhausted, I lay on my bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.

When I awoke, I felt back to my usual self, seeing the large bloodstain on the carpet brought events of previous evening flooding back. I’d wondered what was wrong with my friend and I had experienced that. Eventually it came to light that my friend had been severely depressed. I knew everything I’d felt last night was bullshit and untrue. In the future these feelings would pay an occasional visit, amplifying my doubts while feeling reliable and comforting. My first taste of the abyss.