Joshua Jon Williams


Live Your Life

Because if you are not there to live your own life, then who will live it for you when there is only one of you out there in the world. If you do not live your own life, no one will live it for you – don’t ever let your development and/or progress be halted because of a barrier in whatever shape or form it comes in. Keep moving forward and don’t look back because you have now crossed the bridge, you have swam the ocean and have made it to the other side. Don’t give up, otherwise your journey has ended and your chapter has now been closed. You are the only novel about yourself that exists in this world, you hold the pen to write it and the paper to shape it – if you abandon these instruments, then your story finishes there and your life has finished its course.

As I said, “Live your life because no one will live it for you.”



Audio Blog: Salvaged, Part 1


Part 1 is now available on YouTube as a audio blog for your ears.


Salvaged [P.1]

In my situation as an autistic adult, it could be seen that when people interact with me, that I may flinch or swerve away to avoid this interaction; this in time has become something that I am more aware of consciously. To this day, I do not completely understand but I can try to comprehend. As I grow older I am aware that my consciousness as a human being grows, to an extent where the world around me acts only as if a dream, I pass through its reality and it passes right through me.

I grew up as a ‘normal child’ at the time, prior to my diagnosis as autistic, where I lived with my parents all the way until sixteen. I did what most children my age do, I went to school and I went to my lessons, came home, played games, socialised sometimes and went to sleep. It was not until 2004 when my diagnosis came to light – until then, my parents had seen my behaviour as naughty or unruly. I once stated bluntly to a Maths teacher, who I had the utmost respect for, that I would not sit next to one of her pupil’s because I knew I wouldn’t be able to work if I did – her reaction was unfortunately negative, sending me to detention for simply denying what I saw as a logical request.

In the same countless years, I have experienced bullying like any child shouldn’t have to and I don’t mean that in a ‘special’ way but in saying that no child should ever be a victim to bullying. I have experienced this throughout my entire time in school, from a very early young age to later a teen when you’d think by then that maybe they would have grown up and stopped. I still think back now, at the age of 23 and 4 months, that all this could have been avoided somehow and that I would not be sat here writing this to you today. I do not regret that I am writing this as I am hoping someone reads this and understands that bullying isn’t cool nor is corporal punishment – start the road to a better future by seeing how your actions affect others and how your successors (if so) affect others even in their early years of development.

I write now at said age, having experienced a better life since my diagnosis and after leaving sixth form, where I held quite a fair bit of negative memories that lingered until halfway through my University degree. By that point, I had been on anti-depressants for almost a year or so, having needed them to recover from the ills of a bad period of time that I will not go into until a later date after this has been posted. I am still on those anti-depressants (sertraline if you’re curious to know) and between then, my life has significantly changed, if mostly for the better.

As I discussed previously, I am becoming more aware of my existence within the world and my place, to a point that I acknowledge that such memories as these, no matter how painful they are, trigger on a lapse of thought that can only be described as watching a video tape on repeat, with the included static from aging decay and distortion due to memory issues where there’s just a mess of tapes, their entrails hanging out and interweaving. I commonly state most things are connected, if not everything is, as small as these connections may be – they are still significant in the deciphering of memories and in the process of aiding the recovery from these.

For now, I’m signing off this draft, I wrote this because it has beared a heavy weight on my chest and I know that by telling someone (you, yes you) that I can now work on freeing myself from the shackle of my past memories and with hope to build a more stable, happy and safe future for myself.



Molten Core of the Heart

I remember as a child, when I was attending school and slowly into the early stages of college, that I would refer to a shell. This shell acted as a protective barrier, allowing in only so much and the same for letting out. I used to frequently return to my shell and over the years I’ve stepped out of it, supposedly coping fine with no problem whatsoever.

I realise now that this shell was shielding me past the point, where I kept it up for as long as I could, not noticing that after time, it had begun to degrade as it’s presence became forgotten. It was around the same time that I was opening my heart for the very first time to someone and normally I don’t do this often unless I feel it’s safe. But what came after left me wounded.

The problem with opening my heart, was that once the floodgate was opened, it won’t close easily. I learned this the hard way wasting away precious blood, sweat and tears trying to hope whatever had opened it would close it. However it could not be closed and I left myself open and vulnerable to tampering, which led me to trouble I had hoped I would never be a part of.

To this day, my heart is still open but I am rebuilding my shield in hopes that this will mend my heart or otherwise give me the control over the floodgates so that I may feel my heart as a whole and only open it again when I know truly that they’ll give me theirs if mine becomes broken.

That’s enough for today.


Discovering an Empath

Today I’m writing to you, about my childhood throughout to present day adulthood, how my experiences shaped me as a person and how I began to discover my ability as an empath. It is a common myth that autistic people do not empathise however it has been stated in an article that in fact we do – but without proper training or understanding, we either take on too much input or completely block it out. For now, we will begin at the start of my life, then move slowly onto the present day.

Throughout my childhood, I have noticeably been able to feel quite deeply the pain of others, to the point where I found myself in almost physically agony over what they were going – whether or not we had spoken, crossed eyes for a brief moment or just seen one and another in the street as passers-by. As I was growing up, I noticed – better said, one of my teachers at the time noticed my ability to notice her shift in mood – albeit small changes, I still noticed and it perplexed her as much as it did me at the time. I never truly at that time understood as it was shaken off as over-analysis due to my autism but still the memory of this event fascinates me.

As I moved on into my more adolescent years, I began to notice that some of these feelings were clinging to me and within a short space of about a year’s time, they clung to me like glue – indistinguishable from my own, even in the brightest of lights, I could not make out how then I truly felt. I was diagnosed not much later with depression and it was to many people’s dismay that this had happened. I was always known as smiler – I may feel like the world is falling in on me but I still smile, put on a happy face and sometimes, it’s genuinely how I feel. It was very surprising at the time that I had been diagnosed with this condition and many times I tried to shrug it off.

For just about the year prior, I had managed to relieve myself of the anxiety – what I had noted at the time, albeit fairly late in the process, is the trigger. I had noted that my previous relations and my ties to those previous memories had left me open for attack. In order to relieve myself, I wrote poems endlessly until I tired myself out and burned out the fire that once was my driving force at the time for writing. I still continue to write to this day but what I wrote about then is dead and buried where it should be.

Following this, I took up a degree in Photography of which to my unfortunate demise had lead me back into depression once more, as I was not enjoying my studies, my classes and so I changed courses. I enrolled late Autumn into Contemporary Arts, where I could freely escape my own mind. Over the course of these three years, I developed my writing style to use as relief when I felt the need to write and used other art forms when I felt the same need. At the end of my three years, I had developed a system for relief, turning poetry into music and that into compositions far beyond its original – this offered me peace, knowing that the feelings buried within these were torn like old photographs and then burned into ashes.

Where I am at now, is delving into my mind again after losing my grip on where I wanted my direction in life to take me, so for now, I am going with the flow and resuming the use of my previous system in order to find relief. I am currently researching techniques to enhance my abilities as an empath and to ensure that in future years I am safe but not isolated within my mind, feelings and emotions.

Take care!