Today was my official Robbie Williams Fan Day. I’m not sure when that started exactly. I knew of him and even liked a few of his songs, even bought one of his albums, but I’d mostly ignored him up until a couple of years ago when one of his songs [with irony now] just spoke to my heart and then I’d rushed onto YouTube and watched countless Robbie Williams clips and somehow decided he was my long lost love. Pathetic I know. Especially now that I’m over the hill and really should (and do) know better. I mean… haven’t I done the bad boy thing to death already? So then, what happened that time was that the very next day wouldn’t you know it, I was taking a walk with my camera, snapping everything in sight until my lens focused on an absolutely beautiful man who looked… just like Robbie Williams’ twin brother. He told me his name, then he said he’d marry me someday and then one thing quickly led to another. He’s been my ex for a long time now but the jury is still out on whether that encounter was a godsend or a curse from hell, though he still insists we’re soul mates and I will be his wife someday. One major difference between Robbie and the ex is that one is an established superstar with proven talent as a singer/songwriter and, oh yeah, loads of money, and the other is… not even close. But then, comparing anyone to Robbie Williams: Britain’s Best Selling Male Performer Of All Time, is not playing fair. In any case I’ve gone off on a tangent. The point was NOT to bring up the ex, though that little anecdote of meeting Robbie Williams’ clone the day after I’d spent hours staring at his pictures and crying to one of his songs over and over again, well that’s that’s right out of the movies. Though in the movies, I would have met the real Robbie Williams, obviously, and it would have been an absolute fairy tale and they lived happily ever after, The End, quick before they start arguing and screaming and swearing and throwing stuff at each other and calling in the lawyers while the tabloids of course have a field day.
So what I was getting at when I started this post was that today I sought solace in Robbie Williams once again. It was pure escapism. I would probably have taken some kind of illicit drug had I had some on hand, or drank three quarters of a bottle of scotch if I was still into self-medicating that way. But instead I let myself daydream about what life with Robbie Williams would be like, if I was a different person who liked being around crowds all the time and also looked flawlessly gorgeous (though the latter isn’t necessarily a prerequisite since from what I’ve seen so far, he just hits on any woman who happens to be within the vicinity) and he was the sort of man who was capable of actually falling in love. I don’t think the distraction worked though, because I’m still feeling miserable, still am on the verge of tears, still feel like the biggest loser in the world. All these thoughts just poisoning my mind, which I’ve become really good at ignoring usually, but today there was no escaping them. “I had so much promise… it’s too late now, I’ve ruined my life, where did it all go?” repeated over and over again, like a broken record. I know where it all went, it’s this fucking depression, one bout after another which has stolen half my life away. After all, how far can one get when hope seems like a bad joke, the only dreams you have wake you in a cold sweat, and your self-esteem is so low that you shy away from friends and family for the shame of it? Before the lithium cocktail, I could at least look forward to the relief of a manic high once in a while, when I actually felt good about myself for a change and didn’t let my fear paralyze me from making any kind of decision. I don’t care what anyone says, this is no way to live. And putting a smile on it and faking it until you make it just doesn’t cut it either. Days like today, it’s a good thing I’ve got my cats keeping me alive. And Robbie Williams, let’s not forget. He’s bipolar too—I’m sure he’d understand.