It’s just after 5.30am. This is a sad day. This is a sad day for… I would say my country, but it’s not a country. We’re just a region. A region that gets told what to do by other people. Imagine going on holiday and a tourist or local asks what country you’re from and you tell them Scotland. “Oh, that’s not a country, that’s just a region”, they’ll be able to say and you’ll have to agree.

We had our chains off yesterday to vote, and now we’ve voted to put them back on. Get back in the box, Scotland, no more worrying about having to think. London will do it all for us. And I’m sure they’ll have the interests of the ordinary people of Scotland at heart, like they always have. Why I just need to walk the streets of Glasgow to see that already. Poverty-stricken streets, where people rely on food banks and benefits, we’ll get told what to do by people that care only about house prices and immigrants, as if that is the cause of the ills of the nation.

'Get back in the box, Scotland, no more dissent from you. Now, about that pledge… well nothing was legally binding, so we'll just leave it as it is.'

They’ll have to rewrite all those Hollywood movies that show brave Scotsmen, taking life by the scruff off the neck, taking that chance and not being afraid. Because that’s what we are. An afraid, beaten, subservient nation of people that have given in. Not all of us, I’ll grant you, but not enough to make a difference. The media were against us. The banks were against us. Westminster was against us. But the people… well a great number were with us.

We’ve given in to fear. We’ve given in to intimidation. We’ve given in to London.

You’ve broken my heart and made me cry again, Scotland. All those times of glorious sporting failure seem rather insignificant compared with this occasion. Sporting events come around again, but this referendum.. it won’t. This was our chance and we said No. No to self-determination, No to independence, No to change.

It is a heartbreakingly sad day. But I’m immensely proud of those people that have given their all for this campaign. I just wish that it could have been something more.

September 14th. 2:01AM.
“I can’t stop thinking about you. I miss you so fucking much, I don’t know what to do without you. I’ve been crying for hours and this alcohol tastes like shit but it’s your favorite.”

September 15th. 1:15AM.
“Do you remember the time you told me I had stardust in my veins and I was more beautiful than anything in the universe? Well you fucking lied. There’s blood all over and everything’s covered in red and it smells like old pennies. Why aren’t you here?”

September 16th. 12:02AM.
“Fuck, I’m so tired. I know I shouldn’t of taken that bottle of sleeping pills and I really shouldn’t have drank that bottle of vodka. My stomachs on fire and I can’t breath, fuck I love you more than anything.”

September 18th. 4:03PM.
“I just got back from the hospital. They had me on 24 hour suicide watch. I tried to explain to them that I wasn’t trying to kill myself, I was just trying to kill the part of me that still loves you. I’m sorry.”

—  I deleted your number. I hope one day I’ll be able to say your name without feeling like I’m drowning.
I need you to understand something. I wrote this for you. I wrote this for you and only you. Everyone else who reads it doesn’t get it.
—  Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You
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