0: 2013/2014

Broken mirror

The last was probably my worst year on record. Now, that I look at it and study it like a scientist with a specimen, both sides and both forces, internal and external, were to blame, as well as the chaos of my own mind on the disorder called Bipolar Disorder type II, a struggle since childhood.

I graduated TAFE (or rather, the Central Institute of Technology) with flying colours. Unfortunately, Murdoch University a year later, was like being thrown into an ocean full of sharks, with only one of my subjects deemed a pass (51%). Add to that, personal problems, stress, lack of sleep, improper diet, drifting away from friends and someone I bless with the name Fucknut.

Fucknut was a man who was doing what I was several years prior; starting something to ‘be someone’. Long story short; at the Gathering at NYE, he ushered me to a new year with the Middle Finger and rocked up dressed as a hobo in trakkies, starting a hug-fulled pity-party before proceeding to give me the ushering I mentioned.

I later told several friends that at that point, it was as if my mind was back on Citalopram/Celexa;

I felt nothing, which is what this drug does to most people.

It seems that his abuse of me is now word on the street, coupled with the VRO I placed on him courtesy of the Court, after he threatened me on social media. Like in Star Wars, I chose to protect myself and shot first.

Revenge is sweet.

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