Back to... what?

I returned home the day before yesterday. I had a lovely time up there, despite the fact that there was no electricity. I confess to missing music and water toilets, but the mosquitos were more or less non-existent and I mostly mind not being able to take a hot shower.

But what did I return to? Sure, it's nice to resume contact with everyone, but that's about it. I'm still ill, there are still bills to pay and no job earning me enough to survive. And if I got one I probably wouldn't have the energy to perform it. It's hard to find a part time job easy enough for this wreck of a body, actually; it's hard to even find one at all!

Also, I come home to read what the social service and a so called psychiatrist wrote about me (I decided to part from them, not applying for money from them, mostly because they wanted to force me to do something I didn't want to do) in the closure files. There are fact mistakes everywhere, and the shrink just wanted to live in her own little word and saw what she wanted.

Reading those papers really brought back everything for why I don't like people and why I can't trust them. Everything is twisted in those papers. I wonder sometimes if it's even me they are talking about. But the worse part is the two-face. To me those social service women seemed reasonable and supportive. I thought they actually understood that I am ill, and how I feel. But in the papers they make me sound like I'm a lazy teenager who doesn't wanna grow up and is too caught up in a delusion of feeling bad that I can't feel good.

If I could change my health due to will, then by the goodness, I would do so! Long ago! Actually, I never would have been sick in the first place! Also, they tried to make my own observations about myself into something they observed and then they twist it. Like how I feel uncomfortable and dirty when my hair is dirty, they wrote it as if I had a bad hygiene and that I'm being filthy on purpose. Also, they wrote that my home was dirty. I do not have a dirty home! It's messy, and I don't want to show my mess. It's true that I sometimes don't do the dishes for three days, but when I do it, it's s spotlessly clean!

I feel so terribly disappointed in those people right now. I have a hard time believing that there even are any reasonable people in those systems. Why are only retards working for the social services? People who are even worse at reading others than I am. Compared to them, I'm a social mastermind.

And now I wonder... What next? What now? What is there for me in this life? And why do I wanna live so badly when there's no future for me? I imagine what will happen if I never get healthy again. What if I have to walk around in this mist of dizziness, headache and nausea? With this lethargy that's sucking me dry on everything? What am I gonna do when I'm alone? When I have noone to live for? What am I to do with myself?

I never amounted to anything. I never got good enough at singing, playing any instrument or writing lyrics. I never got good enough at drawing/painting. I'm not healthy enough to study on, or get a truck-driver's licence. I can't support myself as an unemployed.

And I don't want to live in this town with it's disgusting water.

...

Now I just got a call that put me out of my misery mood and put me into another. Oh well I'll live. We'll see what I do. Maybe I'll just go live in the gutter.