From mid-2014 to late-2015 the idea of life as a long-term project had been lost to me. I was fighting against the internal cries to end everything and those months became about existing from one day to another. Whilst various prescribed drugs and therapies were trialled, it was the more cliché self-medicating that I fell back on to survive through the intrusive thoughts. I was drunk nearly every single night. Covering this fact was simple. I love beer. People know me for my love of beer. It has become a personality trait that people from outside the bubble attach to me and have done since my late teens. From the outside, I’m the friend or acquaintance whose always in the pub and considers himself "something of a connoisseur." Nobody questioned it because nobody saw a change in my behaviour. This blog continued. Beer festival and event attendances were regular. I could experience days out with my friends as normal. The routine enjoyment still existed. It was a