When stuff got really shit at home, which it did when we first moved house about ten years ago, Mum used to say she wanted to go home.

As a nieve child, I would try to explain to her my confusion- she was at home? We lived here?

I get it now. Because I found myself saying it...

I still have crashed. I'm going  to get out of it damnit, because I'm hitting low, and its only a few steps away from being that low. And that just puts me in even more crap.


I suppose the upside was work, I was talking to a guy who used to go to GBC. He had hated it, granted, but in one of our many conversations, it came up he said that GBC gave the impression of being welcoming, and then as soon as you're there for long enough, suddenly its all cliques. Those who are labelled- in his case- troublemakers, are essentially ostricised within the church. Is it any wonder I don't want to go back?

I don't know what day I'm up to now. Six? Seven?