Once again I find that I have *metaphorically* hit the concrete floor and scraped off a layer of skin. I am angry; but I want to fight.

I lost my job yesterday. After a long and difficult 'ill health capacity hearing', I was dismissed on the grunds of 'too much time off with depression makes you a liability'. Oh.. well thanks guys. Not only do I suffer anxiety, and you make me go through a hearing that is not far from the feeling of being in court, but because I also suffer from depression you decide to dismiss me.. something that'll surely bring my ever-slow-recovery crashing back down into that bottomless pit that we all know so so well.

Today, a man came knocking at my door. A debt I had been paying had lapsed, I'd clearly in all the other confusion forgotten to pay my instalment. He wanted £512. I gave him £150 today.. the remainder he will come for tomorrow morning when I get paid. So… I lose my job… then the next day baliffs demand money which has to come out of my final wages.. I'm waiting for the 3rd bad thing to happen.

Sometimes… just sometimes, I start to believe that I'm dealt bad cards in life as a punishment for something I did at the age of 16. Something that is classed in many a religion and community as a huge sin. Something so painful and difficult that I shall never ever forget it. The pain bursts from my pores. I hurt in the old ways.. I taste the adrenaline of the orginal fear in my mouth. It seizes me up sometimes. 

And then.. then there's you. Whome I want to hold but also push away. I shudder when you touch me.. not because I hate you touching me, but because I hate my body being touched. 

This is my punishment.. my muscles brace themselves for more. 

I smile.. because that's all I know.