Problem Solved on the Smoking Porch

Big J gave me a fist bump on the way in.  I thanked him on the way out.  In the interim, i got my cigarette and a light without a fight, i froze on a stuck place, listening to my son say to me in my mind, “God did that to you;” and after several minutes of mention of “vegetable” and the like, Mr E of the interracial incident walked quietly and peacefully out, returned to his safety and privacy, in the sight of God.

As for me, im fighting to keep my place here, even if only till the 31st.  Miss T, my caseworker, got the name of this blog out of me.  Theres nothing in here she cant know.  I also showed her the shit diaries:  the three years of calendars documenting my use/abuse of laxatives that got me si sick and led to the final, drastic suicide attempt.

Maybe im expected to leave sooner than the 31st.  I havent done anything wrong.  This is all fd up.

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