Ordinary day

Today is just an ordinary day. I woke up at 9.30am, had a large cup of strong coffee as usual accompanied by a cigarette dressed in just my boxer shorts. 10.30am I jump on the bus, on my way to the job centre for a work search assessment by my work coach. Smoked a cig then walked in, ten minutes early. I was told to sit and wait on the sofa. I was staring at my work coach starting to have panicky thoughts as usual like what am I going to say, who will be looking at me during this appointment, what will people think of me? Those sort of questions. I remember having to bury an urge to leave the room and not attend.

” Thomas would you like to come over? ”

” No I f**king don’t want to come over.” I felt like saying but swallowed it and dragged myself over to her desk with my green folder that I don’t even know what’s in it and my rucksack filled with my swimming trunks, a towel, toiletries, two Snickers and a packet of pieces of chicken breast. Anyway. Up until today I had an excellent relationship with my work coach, probably thanks to my ability to feed people bullshit although I’d rather not and manipulate my way through any situation.

Today was different.

” We need to clear up some paperwork issues like I need the receipt for the phone we bought you and evidence you bought train tickets ( and not drugs she probably felt like saying ) with the money you asked for transport . ” As she swings around the screen to show me I notice the two labels ” heroin addiction, depression “.

Tired of lying and after reading that I let out ” I haven’t got any evidence to provide you “.

She then went on to ask me my plans for the future. I said that at the end of this fit note which ends on the 13th I’d like to start a part time job and in October part time studying with the open university studying Criminology & psychology.

She then went on to say ” I saw someone who obviously did drugs earlier, he was picking open wounds and scabs on his face claiming he was clean and was planning on getting custody of his daughter, NOT GOING TO HAPPEN! ”

I felt like saying ” Would that be my mate Chris? ” But she didn’t know I associated with the local smack and crack addicts so I hushed it. Anyway as the non-existent enthusiasm over my life project died down, she said we also had to fix some issues involving my rent.

” Your Mum bought in your sick note ( whilst you were clucking it out she’d like to add ) and mentioned she had not had any rent from you but as you can see here, pointing at her screen, you said that no family member of yours would benefit from you claiming housing benefit at this address? ”

F**king thanks Mum, nice one. I thought to myself. You just had to come in the other day saying to whoever would care to listen that your son is a heroin addict defrauding the benefit system and that you were in on it, WHY?

As much as I love my Mum, some of her actions will never make sense to me although I understand them.

This is supposed to be a diary written to myself. I guess because it is public I’ve started writing to you. I’m finding this somewhat therapeutical.

After my interview, I walked to the closest bus stop and made my way to the SPA & Gym centre where I have just got a membership. I spent a shy half hour in the gym not really wanting it just looking forward to getting into that warm, soothing jacuzzi downstairs and steam room. I did a little more swimming than usual in the outdoor pool then headed back to the changing rooms for a shower, got dressed and left.

Got back on the bus and headed back to my Mum’s friends flat who my Mum is paying to look after me like a child. That started when heroin withdrawals made me so unwell and slow that I had no energy to look after myself or do anything. I still lack energy.

As I write this I’m patiently waiting for an early dinner, lounging in Sue’s sofa, about to roll a cigarette.

One of my priorities is to stop smoking. I have managed it two years once before.

I’m hoping that this restless legs syndrome I’m guessing I have won’t rob me of a decent night’s sleep tonight.

I’m also wondering what I am going to fill my new picnic box with.

Sue, after getting over the shock of how much food I take to my room when going to bed, found me this box to stash my midnight snacks in which I now fill up religiously every evening.

I’m going to look for some interesting true crime program in French probably, to watch in bed tonight.





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