Blame the Parents

Why am I here? I need a sense of perspective. Should I ponder upon the earthquake in Pakistan? Or the Boy Whose Skin Fell Off: a channel four documentary about a young man with a rare skin condition which was exacerbated by cancer. He died during the making of the documentary - it makes my problems seem sily and trivial by comparison. The only problem is dreams and visions and voices have convinced me that I may die in a certain way and the fact that I have an arsonist living above me increases the odds of this. I spent the morning with Doug. He is prepared to act as a witness in a court of law if necessary. My parents offered to come up but (and I hate to sound ungrateful) unless they can turn themselves into top-flight lawyers overnight there is very little they can do.

This is my second night without sleep. I hope Little Miss Pyromaniac realises what she has done. I have drawn out a plan for next week. I am going to march into Lloyds Bank and demand an explanation for the way I am being treated. I'll chain myself to their railings if necessary. (Ooh, get me! What a good little Sufragette I would have made!) I want to speak to a human being, not an automaton. Is that too much to ask? I'll try to be coherent. I'll try to be calm. But it's kind of difficult when your brain feels like scrambled eggs.