Drips of Blood From the Teeth

So, I went to Social Services yesterday.

It was a bitch, because they have their attack dog, WECARE, fuck you up the ass and you have to deal with it. Hey, that's how the system works. I sat there almost half a damn day. I got there around one, and left at six. Try that. Waiting mostly in a waiting room, surrounded by people that make your skin crawl. It's maddening. If I had a bat, I could just break loose and pound human flesh into jelly. What faggot needs a gun? A Louisville Slugger can do better.

Well, I got beat up, well actually fucked up. They questioned everything about me, and this time I came fucking clean as a damned Saint, and just think, they took blood and urine. I should have remembered that, but I pushed it out of my mind and spent the week drinking like a fish. My blood alcohol level might have been over the limit of a living human, but what the Hell? I'm having problems and I can't deal with them sober.

This is EXACTLY what I went through after 911. I realize that now. 911 fucked me up badly and my life has been going down hill ever since. What people don't really know is that there were several corporations and companies that sent in innocent people into Ground Zero to do work to keep their fucking jobs, and made certain that there was NO RECORD OF IT. Simply because they were smart enough to figure out that if they died or got crushed or whatever, they could deny everything.

There is no record of me going into Ground Zero days after the attack to check out, and stay to maintain the datacenter right across the street from the great mound, which is now a great crater. They used me like a tampon, balled me up and tossed me into the trash. I can't find any person that will witness to my being down there, in there, living there, seeing there, smelling there although there were a few.

I'll tell you more about this later. I'll definitely take my time. It's a big story, and can't be covered in one post. So I'll move on to my habits right now. I found out that I suffer now from Agoraphobia, which is beginning to make perfect sense. Here, this is from Wikipedia:


Definition: Not to be confused with agraphobia, agora- phobia is a condition where the sufferer becomes anxious in environments that are unfamiliar or where he or she perceives that they have little control. Triggers for this anxiety may include wide open spaces, crowds (social anxiety), or traveling (even short distances). The sufferer is now considered to suffer from Agoraphobia. The sufferer can sometimes go to great lengths to avoid the locations where they have experienced the onset of a panic attack. Agoraphobia, as described in this manner, is actually a symptom professionals check for when making a diagnosis of panic disorder. Other syndromes like obsessive compulsive disorder or post traumatic stress disorder can also cause agoraphobia, basically any irrational fear that keeps one from going outside can cause the syndrome.

Shit friends, I am truly fucked. This is a hard thing to prove. I can't do what social services wants me to, and they are not equipped to even understand me. A very close friend of mine, and Dr. A, suggested that I contact the 911 commission for mental and substance abuse aid. Yeah, I see the point now. I think the smart move will be to hook up with them, and solve this problem. Have I lost faith? Lost my way? I don't think so. But I do feel like taking $80.00, and buy a ticket to Nebraska, and start a new life there. At damn near fifty, throwing around bales of hay, chewing fucking straw, and fucking some of those beautiful belles seven ways to sunset.

Ha ha ha, that would not be a Heaven, that would be a Hell.

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