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One step forward, two cricket bats to the head.




Fuck my back hurts.


It fucking hurts. I just can’t fucking think straight any more, it’s so fucking painful.


The cause is scoliosis, apparently. I've been seeing a physio for the past 2 months, it's kind of working, but… I’d just wish someone would actually massage and work the painful muscles! I saw a masseur recently, based on the recommendation of some work colleagues, who swore a masseur would really do the job. They said he’ll really dig into and work those offending muscles, but, instead, he just rubbed over the top of them. Alas, as it always is with me, it didn’t feel any better afterwards. It didn’t feel worse, until today. Now the pain is super concentrated around the spine. I can feel “switched off” muscles in my back. I just want someone to get into them, work them, allow the circulation to return and the nerves to switch back on, rather than just pussy-foot around with them and with excuses as to why they can’t work them. When I’ve had this problem before, the physio (a different one in a different part of the country) has never hesitated to massage the buggers. and guess what, it worked.


Every time I get a little ahead - and when I get ahead I mean ahead of where I was, not ahead of others, god no – life/god/luck/fate/whatever hurls absolute shit at me. I get fit – my fitness is taken away through this fucking energy sapping painful back. I start a business – all my confidence and motivation to run it disappears and so does the business. I start a business – I lose my fitness. I lose my fitness – my back hurts. My back hurts – it depresses me. I’m depressed – I can’t meet no women. I get a full time job – God inflicts intolerable, soul destroying pain on me. I need my health fund card to claim benefits – the card disappears the instant I need it. I need to do excercise to help fight/solve the back problem, but the back gets so painful that it saps all my energy away so I can't do any excercise (another pointless catch 22). And so on…


Whenever I get a little happy, or there is the threat that I may experience happiness, life/god/luck/fate/whatever comes in with his big holy fucking cricket bat and repeatedly smacks me in the head with it. Then when I'm convulsing on the ground, the beatings continue. It’s as though happiness is a sin and God will do whatever it takes to prevent me from committing it.. Funny, God will permit me to masturbate, but not to be happy.




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