11:02am.

My lad and his family are visiting for lunch. I tried to put him off but he knows me too well. Fuck fuck.

I love him/them. I feel very much like pushing my wardrobe aside in my room and taking my fists to a discreet bit of wall.
I fuckin need to relax.
Nightmares... I can’t clear the images from my head.
Thinking about finding articles on the teacher. It’s arcing me up.
I do this to myself.

I think there’s power in knowledge.
But maybe in this case I just keep fucking myself up.

I want to switch myself off today. Sleep the day away. Sleep through this horrible feeling in my stomach. Sleep through the repetitive chanting in my head of negativity & pain. And the old... my life’s fucked now... how fucked will it be later if I Face this and bring it all out into the open.

The bump on my shoulder is itchy and raised. I’m still hoping it’s cancer. I’m not looking at it... not researching... not showing a Doctor. Just hoping it gets to a place where it is untreatable. If it’s even cancer.

I think it’s a fair way to go. I deserve that at the very the least.
42 years feels like a thousand.

Dutton’s rape comments have cut me. He’s an ex cop... a powerful leader and his views on those of us that are victims are now obvious. We are liars for our own gain. Same shit I reckon the cunt cop at my local station thought I think.

I’m going backwards here.