I’ve got to get those people off my back.

That is where it feels they are, clinging there, hanging on.

I heard music once – in the walls, or the central heating pipes –

I was on anti-psychotics at the time, and I established a theory that the reason I was hearing things was because I wasn’t psychotic and had been put on the tablets so that Cassie could tick her boxes.

It was a sort of reversal, I figured – not-psychotic plus anti-psychotics makes hearing music in the walls.

No.  It was coming from next door – it had to be.

Later, when I wasn’t getting better, Cassie accused me of not trying to get better!

I’d punch her in the nose, if I saw her now – metaphorically speaking.  (I wouldn’t risk the law court for that awful woman.)

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