Tuesday

So Mr delicious face did die. It had been hinted at of course but death of a very much loved one on TV always makes us feel very grim. The death and the immediate reaction of those left behind hits us pretty hard but then there is the love and support received by the surviving character and that always strikes us because its such a severe contrast to what we have experienced. We start getting flashes of Skene. We feel pretty confident we are not going to get much better without expanding some of those flashes because we feel so much of us are still back there and we can't move them on without going in but we always know we do not have the means or opportunity to do that. We would need love and support and weed at the very least, some kind of public justice or recognition maybe to and that is impossible when the public and authorities continue to be generally unjust.

So much organisation goes into keeping a child in a state of shock, from preventing even basic self care and making all other care and essentials dependant on pretending it never happened and forcing a child's brain into conditions desirable to the networks. Any and all means. They were free to try anything and everything.

Specifics feel very close but we can't let them get any closer and risk further exposure to harmful attitudes when very close to as vulnerable as we were after all the worst.

This is not the end part of us said as we sat on the stairs next to the back door smoking, this is the beginning. Writing this we see Julia our own "bent neck lady" lifeless and colourless on the floor of the Women's Aid refuge flat in St Andrews and we know she agrees.