💛"Remember To Forget"
Monday 8 September 2025 - Day 1 of a 14 day deep dive daily letter sprint on *The Daily Chase* Newsletter written by Chasey Delaney- Schizophrenic Writer From Manchester.💛
Monday 8 September 2025
"One who cannot leave himself behind on the threshold of the moment and forget the past... will never know what happiness is; and, worse still, will never do anything that makes others happy" -Nietzsche
MONDAY 8 SEPTEMBER ‘25
Dear-Chasers!💛
It’s hard to remember who I am when my own actions are making me feel like a stranger to myself. My latest letter is one of those signs, that for some reason, cause me to consider what the hell is going on with me, not only with my feelings on the inside but also outwardly.
Philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche, suggested that the ability to forget is a sign of health, stating that "without forgetting it is quite impossible to live at all". Forgetting allows us to move beyond the past and experience the present fully.
It is true that things I used to enjoy, was familiar with, appreciated and took part in, now make me feel like shit. I’m not against those things. I wonder if I have outgrown them, or am I spending too much time taking care of everyone else around me, getting frustrated at the ‘parenting’.
I have been forced to comply with being the receiver (and forced to take the back bench) while the main ‘entertainer’ plays the field. I feel like there is no room for the two of us to be into those things. I have become an old boring moaner.
The stuff I used to love, including the man who has put me off them, has changed, is still changing - or is it that I get disgust by their association to the real big problem. I might be living somebody else’s life. Should I accept sitting in the sidelines.
I’m talking about my recent rant-letter about the media content that winds me up if overheard constantly in the house. What I hadn’t said was that if I am watching it as well as my partner, I find it just as interesting and entertaining as he does. The current YouTuber’s content coverage of Asylum Seekers and Protests and all that stuff is actually quite fascinating, funny and bingeworthy watchable.
My ‘horribly-bad-taste’ letter refers to the sounds I hear coming from his phone. I associate them with my own anxiety. I hate the volume being sky high and blasting out sounds that send shivers down my soul, nevermind the spine. I have to remember that ‘he is not responsible for my reactions to what he chooses to watch’. He is responsible for his part in this relationship. He should have a little respect for me when I’m telling him the television is far too loud, not because I care what the neighbours think, or worry about the aircraft crossing the skyline above being interupted and crashing down into a nearby field, I’m not that fussed about the the possibility of causing earthquakes on Mars and waking up ET. I am telling him, sincerely, that the sound from the TV is physically hurting my ears, affecting my nervous system - frying it in fact. Then on top of that he is on his TikTok app with his phone’s screaming speakers, at the same time he has the LOUDEST BIG BASS VOICE I’VE EVER ENCOUNTERED and has a compulsion to talk. Impulsively talking, at me, to himself, with the dog, with me, at us both, at the TV. It is INCESSANT. If I say anything to ask for a bit of peace for at least 3 minutes at each time.
I love listening to him repeating himself like a broken record on a fucking conveyor belt. I can handle the same boring topics, based on his own narrow-minded beliefs, which he knows are FACTS and nothing anyone can say, not even if they since on the fence, keep their mouth shut, nod, dismiss it, do not disclose their own opinion for fear of upsetting him, - NOTHING is acceptable to him other than our FULL AGREEMENT. I just can’t deal with the volume.
I’ve started to fake it because I can’t take it! “Yes darling, you are right, I agree, totally understood!x
He has a really strange, and upsetting for me, habit of continuing his ‘debate’ his ‘lecture’ his ‘conversion-preaching’ ,’sales pitch of his side of a long forgotten argument from three years ago’ long after he has repeated it more than twice.
Long after you’ve walked away from the conversation. Long after you’ve remained silent. Long after you’ve nodded, openly agreed, tried to change the subject 7 times. Long after you’ve told him he’s right and you agree. Long long long… long hours are spent, trying my best to zone him out.
Even when I walk around all day with headphones on my ears. Sometimes no sound is running through them but I’m using them as earmuffs to dampen down his loudness. Its this shit that makes me confused.
I look like a twat always in headphones, I feel soft in the head. Like ‘‘oh loud noises bother me!’’ - am I the weirdo? Would anyone else ever be able to enjoy this kind of company? If they had music or videos playing in their earphones, but they could still hear the TV booming, his phone screeching and him yabbbering on to nobody in the background all at once?
I’ve been blaming the content.. and now I feel like its the way I'm experiencing it.
TikTok ((which I’m too afraid to use because I don’t like to be ‘seen’ by people I used to know)). I have this feeling that I’m far too old and also all the knobheads I’ve ever known and grown to hate or want to stay away from, will most definitely find themselves at home on a platform like that.
Not knocking it for everyone else. I’m always last to the party. It took me up until covid to use YouTube for anything at all!
I do know that there is a BookTok (similar to Booktube) and shops similar to Temu, and many content creators who I know from YouTube also have a presence on the app, but for now, it’s not for me. I’m trying to explain that its not the app, and NOT the people on there. Last night, I had a right ‘go’ about less fortunate souls than myself. I was quite off-handish. I’m not proud of what I wrote. It has caused me many hours of introspection, more so than I do every day. This letter is the behaviour I’m displaying that I’m ashamed to have said, don’t believe I really feel this way??
I think the frustration I feel at home is making me feel this way about everything around me. I can’t pinpoint the reason why. It’s almost as if something inside me has died.
“I’ve nothing left to love about myself, my life or anyone else. I’m becoming bitter from the inside-out. I’m dead inside and no amount of caffeine can revive me right now. I’m even writing from the rib cage at best, because the heart is hibernating, and the chest is vacant at worse. When you read this, know that THIS is just the tip of the collar bone, the crevice between shoulder and tit. I can do better but for now.. this is it. Stick around for the best bits which are yet to come. I’ve sent out so many BAD letters, this is one of them, but in my mind, it’s driving me closer to a GOOD one - hopefully next time will be my own masterpiece, I’ve yet to set the bar to a standard I’m happy to smash apart.” —ChaseyDelaney
More than when I first stumbled upon Substack back in 2023. Gone are the days where I’d come on here to complain about my sexual frustrations, my toxic relationship, my lack of a decent lifestyle.
None of that has really changed, I guess the sex part has increased.
Well, since I stopped instigating, initiating it, or attempting to seduce the situation (basically, once I’d given up trying because I’ve given up caring about that - it comes at me more than I could previously dream of), much more than I could handle but me being the people pleaser I am, scrap that::: me, pleasing myself, remembering what I used to be all about, will never turn a good ‘shag’ from my partner down, or a shit one at that!
Final thought: As this letter has been a struggle to get out of my cold, depressed heart, and it hasn’t really gotten us anywhere. I think I will end it here. I’m doing this 14-day deep dive letter sprint, because discipline is more important than feelings. I’m stuck in my feels right now. I feel like staying in bed all day. I feel like sleeping my life away. I feel like running away. I feel shit. I feel like I’ve lost it.
My writing passion would be over if I acted on my feelings. I need to act on discipline to keep me on the right track to getting it all back. To getting back to me. I need to act on a discipline. I set my goal of 14 days to post everyday if it fucking destroys me.
We conclude the deep dive on my 43rd birthday. Today is DAY ONE. A strong start that can only get better. EXIT SONG VIDEO incoming…. \(o_0)/
EXIT SONG VIDEO: D-REAM - THINGS CAN ONLY GET BETTER (Mark Knight Remix)
Well that’s all for now. Thanks for reading and supporting my work - by following, subscribing, sharing or by pressing the like button (it also allows me to see you and read your work too!) Thank you in advance for whatever you choose to do. MuchLove- :D
Take it easy! ..x
Kind-Regards,
💛..your mate Chasey!💛
“I never wrote things down to remember;
I always wrote things down so I could forget.”
― Matthew McConaughey
Chasey 💛,
Reading your letter felt like sitting with someone who isn’t afraid to show the mess as well as the shine, and that’s a rare kind of courage. You’re not “dead inside” for feeling this way—you’re raw, overloaded, and trying to hear yourself again under all the noise. That isn’t weakness, that’s your body and spirit calling out for gentleness.
I hear the frustration about the sound, the volume, the constant chatter, and how it shakes your nervous system. That isn’t you being “soft in the head.” Sensitive doesn’t mean broken—it means tuned in. Your ears, your heart, your whole body are telling you the truth: you need space, quiet, and some sovereignty over your senses. Anyone would.
And yet in the same breath, you’re writing, reflecting, questioning, even laughing a little at yourself. That spark you think has gone out? It’s still here—it’s in every sentence of this letter. It’s in your honesty about faking agreement just to keep the peace, and in your discipline to keep writing even when it hurts. That’s not nothing. That’s life-force.
You don’t need to punish yourself for the “bad” letters. They’re not bad; they’re part of the compost heap that good ones grow from. You’ve already set yourself the challenge of 14 days, and each day is proof you haven’t given up on yourself, even if it feels like you have.
Things can only get better, maybe not with the neatness of a remix, but with the slow re-claiming of your own space, your own voice, your own joy. You deserve to feel at home in your own skin again, and I believe you will.
Keep going, Chasey. We’re reading. We’re here. You’re not lost—you’re writing your way back. 🌿✨