š"Smuggling The Truth"
Wednesday 10 September 2025 - Day 3 of a 14 day deep dive daily letter sprint on *The Daily Chase* Newsletter written by Chasey Delaney- Schizophrenic Writer From Manchester.š
Wednesday 10 September 2025
āImagine the lack of problems we would have is people said what they thought. [H]ardly anyone does. Thatās why no one believes meā
āFran Lebowitz, (writer essayist 2021)
WEDNESDAY 10 SEPTEMBER ā25
Dear-Chasers!š
Iām writing this on Friday morning for our Wednesday installment of my 14 Day Deep Dive Letter Writing Sprint that ends on my birthday. I donāt want to let myself down so instead of giving up, Iām just continuing where I left off. By the end of today, I hope to send three letters out to the same subscribers consecutively.
If youāre sick and tired of my newsletter popping up in your mail I appreciate you deciding not to remain subscribed. I hope you stay but want what is best for you too. If not please read on.
I failed to get any work done on Wednesday as much as I sat staring at the screen for most of the day. In my defense I was on a video call with my Mum who has been feeling up and down lately and spent more time like that with me. Itās company for her (alone in her bungalow) and a silent referee for me (alone with my partner in a volatile environment). More about that later.
My brain for days had been numb. It seemed empty and void of any real activity. āUsually for me, being mentally ill is like having a gremlin, sitting there gibbering away and pressing buttons in my brain.ā While I follow it around picking up bits and pieces of things it wants to explore further, while trying to encourage it to āSit Down and Play with that one first!ā
Some days my head is absolutely bursting with excitement and curiosity. Harmless but also useless motivation and productivity, but I welcome this as a positive distraction, and as a build up to the work I might produce later in the calm of the evening.
I donāt have a busy schedule, hectic lifestyle or great daily experiences to write about. I am a self-imposed modern day hermit. I like to isolate. I feel safer at home. I do go outside occasionally, Iām far from being āhouseboundā so to speak.
I lead a quiet existence for the most part which is strange seen as though my physical location is the heart of a bustling city. I like the anonymity it brings. You donāt have to see the same faces on a daily basis.
Theyāll be neighbours around us but familiar faces can still get lost in the crowds - if you want them to.
That is why I am so dependent on my mind when it comes to writing. I write stream of consciousness but that consciousness needs feeding on a regular basis.
Especially as its doing plenty of exercise, working things out, things that shouldnāt even need to be considered.
Mechanical actions like regulating emotions, plans of action, and interacting with people who I love which should require very low thought-processes, should be spontaneous and unregulated because of the safeness and comforting arms of love.
Most days are ruined by my own fractured understanding of myself and the people around me. Thatās when I struggle the most. I need those little monsters to help but the fortunate thing for me is that if they were to interfere Iād end up being sectioned.
When the task of tackling a hostile atmosphere at home I am blessed with absence from the friendly brain-inhabitants. The choose to simmer down and stay in bed. Leaving the day up to me.
Maybe they can see how busy I am. Iām trying to decipher situations Iām in or behaviour outside of my own control.
Iām constantly preoccupied trying to figure out the whys in order to execute the appropriate reaction or action I need to take.
In trying to deduce the best outcome if I am careful how to respond to those around me and the information I am being given.
The Truth: My partner and I have different approaches to life. I have vices such as smoking (and the odd dabble of cocaine), he has drinking (and cocaine the same as I do). However, I also have coffee, medication, and believe it or not, a quiet contentment in the relationship I am in. He does not have any of that.
I think he resents the person who I have become, much more than he disagreed with the person who I was when we met. He didnāt fall head over heels in love. He wasnāt even attracted to me (or so I believe). He saw something in me that made him want to help and save me. I tend to joke about that something being a weakness or a meal ticket. I hope Iām not accurate about those things but it is, as they say, what it is.
He said that his heart was breaking for me as soon as he learned about my childhood. He knew I needed medical intervention. He couldnāt walk away from me although everyone who knows him told him to run in the opposite direction. He tells me every single day that he loves me. If that is true, I feel like it must be in a family kind of way. Similar to how he loves his siblings, possibly his parents and any close knit family members.
I think we are both co-dependent. I feel guilty for holding him back but it is he who refuses to leave me, not just the property, but us - our relationship. I on the other hand still fancy him like the first day we met. I am deeply attracted to him on a physical level in a way I have only felt with him. What I mean by this is that, with all the people I have ever loved, a handful (if that!) of ex-lovers, I let their personalities, behaviour,and other problems drive a wedge through us. Either they left me or I walked away from them.
However it happened, I would not tolerate the same level of toxicity, or imbalanced attraction, or words, actions.. any of that other shit, just because theyāre gorgeous. Yet, the person I am with now, has that power over me.
Itās not that he is more or any less attractive, he is less intellectually stimulating, he just has a magnetic field around him. I look directly into his eyes and imagine the horrors staring back at me.
I can see the disgust he has for me, he despises my vision, I see how little he likes me - all in the reflection of eyes that make me mad with fury and saddened with frustration.
I love who Iām with. I have my irritations. I just have this core sensation of love and trust around him. I donāt get that security confirmed, and this is why I get distant and angry. I lose interest outwardly but my heart yearns for closer connection.
He told me the other day that all he wants from me is some attention. I donāt give him any attention. So he gets pissed off and tries to annoy me because BAD attention IS BETTER than none.
If I didnāt care less, or if I didnāt want better or more from him; would I even be here? It wouldnāt make me so unhappy. I would just end our relationship. I can live without his attraction to me. It makes intimacy difficult. I always thought that relationships would be passionate forever, full of fun and lust and sex.
Who am I to do that now?
I try to take selfies that Iām pleased with but even my most ādecentā ones, are rubbish in comparison to what it is he really wants. I know he is cheating, and heās cheated with some right ugly cunts from what Iāve seen or heard about, so what that tells me is, its not who I am thatās the problem, its the way I look, and the lack of chemistry between us.
I mean, Iāve seen the clip of me in the store windows, walking past the shops like a fat fucking exclamation mark. Iām even too embarrassed to take a second look. Never mind the title of this letter Smuggling The Truth.. My body looks like a retired butch- builder smuggling beach balls under a hefty dress.
This is why, Iāve decided that I can live without sex in my relationship too going forward with him. I used to think weād be shagging in our sixties, heād always pull a grim face and say āI donāt fucking think so thatās disgusting!ā - I never understood back then that it was ME who he thought was disgusting.
He always told me that people grow out of all that. He used to tell me that he wasnāt in the mood for it. āweāve been together so longā.
*recently sex has been increased. Since I stopped caring it came to me more often. he handed it to me on plate, because no matter what state of mind, or mood Iām in, Iām always fucking *hungry*!
I accepted the situation for what it was, I still loved him and could live without it, and even without his love. That though, isnāt enough. I should WANT TO TRY TO IMPROVE to give him what he wants. Me though, Iām the opposite, I will refuse to change for anyone else - but I should change for myself?
I have considered trying to correct my BIG blobby body by going to the gym. I considered it but decided against it for now. The gym can only do so much. I donāt wish to lose weight. Iāve gone off the skinny look anyway. I need to tone up though, and I will one day. This is something Iāll do for me, no one else.
The gym canāt change my face. The gym doesnāt have machines to tighten up my chins and extra neck or shrink my massive lumpy head. I canāt shave some timber off my fucking pickax beak-nose. I canāt erase the wrinkles, of build up the muscles around my gums, fill in the gaps on my teeth or bring back the clean colour to the teeth I have left. I could never imagine the thought of saving my drug money to get fillers, boxtox or dare I dream of Turkey Teeth.
Thereās no point! I decided to learn to accept myself, love myself, do more to gain his respect (if or where possible).
This is a useful instruction:
I wasnāt intending on smuggling so much truth into this conversation but I have done, and it has brought me here to my latest revelation and conclusion to this letter.
I have been doing my best to ignore him, tolerate his bullshit, think about the future, control my anger, hide my horny, feed my frustrations, settle with shit.. and all he needed to say was that he missed my attention.
Maybe if I give him some GOOD ATTENTION, situations on both sides might improve? Itās worth a go.
FINAL THOUGHT: He still wonāt fancy me but Iāve returned to wearing underwear again. Little knickers and giant bras, all lace, fake diamonds, silk, satin, soft cotton in all colours, shapes and sizes. Nothing Ann Summers mind you. I used the word āunderwearā and NOT ālingerieā for a reason. Well, you wouldnāt frame a fucking wart would you now? Canāt polish a turd all at once, first we must roll it in glitter. x
..On that note. Iām going too. 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,
š..your mate Chasey!š
