Just pretend its not real
Can't touch the clean memory button and vanish like the beginning of grim blog post that hasn't been saved. Its OK though. We are all struggling. Knowing we need to be in our own flesh but knowing that flesh comes with so much pain and revulsion at the way its been treated. And not being able to stop opening your flesh up with a kitchen devil. Also not good for any of us.
We bought that kitchen knife like we always do. We would love that we thought of preparing food or arts and crafts but when buying kitchen knifes but we don't. Some of us cant relax if there is nothing sharp in the kitchen or closer.
We weren't conscious of how new the handle looked when we took it upstairs.
Its been all about the mummy love me as I rape you flashbacks atm. They we after a pregnancy. Its all about the pregnancies and the fear of pregnancies. And orgasms. And getting specific shots for porn and public humiliation and hate. They are always very determined and would of got a pregnancy if it wasn't for someone getting the morning pill to us. Your son's a pro Quine. Police involvement in organized crime is never good news in any community.
Sometimes doing rounds with painkillers and the morning after pill is all you can do.
We phoned the old guy today. Head full of the three girls and their driver deaths. They weren't children anymore and can't any more. I can't save Louise. And then walking into his flat without the piece.
Gabe still there
Aye Scuff's still here..
We knew this. It wasn't like it happened once. Its not like we don't know the damage the dream team and their owners did. Its not like we really believed we could get our baby back now.
Same script as years ago. Like nothing happened. None of it.
We talked a little while. Or at least both said words. Cannabis prices and quality. We told him we cut and weren't doing well. We just wanted to hear the sound of our own voice not bullshitting. As if this was an occasion where that was possible.
Not sure who brought up Gabe again. We did the same routine as before. With a hand on the lid of our fury and terror.
Is he still with Elaine?
He makes all flustered sounding noises. We make out 'just pals' and 'you've got it all wrang'
Do we Graham?
We see Dasha in the playground. Nothing but bones and cuts and bruises. And eyes glad to see us, arms that hugged tight. And voice no one could be blocking out.
We hang up on him as he continues to object. Exactly like before.
Yea. Our littles have felt too much of it now to have hope. They are all in shock. As are they rest of us. We can't get past the catastrophic catatonic states induced by the therapist when times were at their worst. We can't punish our selves with all that public transport anyway.
December systems here now and we can cope with it much better than last year when we really were dangerously and so horribly dissociated. We are grounded better but its not exactly a rose garden we have get between our toes. We will never stop hating not having ID here in the UK and using Louise's DOB and NHS number is heartbreaking and triggering as the cunts designed it to be. Just me left now. That's not at all terrifying.
More Winter fest deco ordered. Don't think we will be too upset if we need to leave it all behind. Stuff we couldn't force our self to order last year purely because we really liked it. :-)
Its the present wrapping that fucking gets us. Every bastard year.
At least we don't have to worry about any cutting intentions. Not for a long while. Whatever is under the dressing slapped on by that cow of an er nurse is gonna break us. Like all the other times. No Watkins ID sharer here to weep with us either.
At least this time it was actually almost definitely our hand that did it..
Still avoiding all news and telly. Wish we could do good stuff.
