When I was discharges from the ward after my first destructive psychotic episode, I lived in a bubble of denial. I was so sick, really ill and it was going to take a miracle for me to have any semblance of a satisfying existence.
In time I tried to get back on the horse.

I applied for a number of office based jobs - one in an insurance company just photocopying and skivvy stuff and another that sold to numerous trades, building companies, agriculture etc. I made it to the last three of fifty applicants and lost out, and was crushed. I never tried at the one before, left my hair all dishevelled. But I knew the girl, which made it harder and I still bring it up to this day. But it is a good job I never won anyway because I got ill again. My mum was so negative saying at 18 years old I was too old to get an office job as everyone wanted a 16 year old office junior. She just had no faith in me whatsoever. What's good enough for me is more than good enough for you, beggars cannot be choosers. I applied to my local council several times, no joy.

Later on I got Fred's sis to write my application and she just made a fool of me. She worked there and left her payslip out for everyone to see her pay rise. What a b^&ch. His other sis would bawl at us for using the computer "get the f%^k off, I have more important things to do than you two ever will..." hm and I thought I was highly strung.

I went on a course at college to prepare a C.V and they were surprisingly very nice and helpful. When I got a job at a place at 19, I heard them laughing their socks off in the office and I knew what was coming. They were looking at my c.v. and ripping me to shreds. I was not what the paper claimed.

I had been dismissed before my three month trial twice before that. I don't know why I didn't run away from it all, devastated?? In the songs I listened to, they were about running away, people falling from grace, the smiths, the cure ...