Unit

A few months a go I was having fun, riding off road on my Goped, humping hookers in ‘syphilis towers’ Which is just off of the high street. I was up the woods around a fire listening to metal with my mate as he drank Hobgoblin beer. We had fun up in London then I would return and sign back in to this sad place. I had more leave than I could use in the week, close to discharge. Someone fell from a window on to my head, I got aggressive and lost it all.

It’s probably important that I mention a few things about my self. I am odd. For a long time I believed that people thought and saw the world the same way that I do but were less open about it. I see my self as a defective lump of meat with energy and a short life span. I know that may sound self depreciating but I have no emotional tag attached to it. I need stimulation I have few commitments and few responsibilities. It’s great waking up each day and deciding what to do or where to go. I love my lifestyle, but the mental health system doesn’t. It would rather that I was cooking three times a day, taking part in pathetic cup cake baking groups. They want passive puppets that go to tedious choir singing or social club groups and are unaware of the painstakingly obvious fact that this setup is a tick boxing exercise, a business and a pantomime. They want us to have structure in our week and remain subservient. Control and conditioning transforms us into model citizens.

“No takers for swing ball” I’ve just heard an occupational therapist say to someone from down in the communal area.

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