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A surreal day…

This day has been long and surreal. My ankle and leg hurt. They should be getting better. The bruising on my back is reducing but is still tender very tender.

My breathing is fairly OK but has been wheezy once or twice.

Realising the reason my life has been so stressed for more than a year is so devastating. It has impacted my health, given me anxiety, and it so from a very sick mind. I know how sick one’s mind has to be to do stuff like that.

I got plans for my neighbourhood yesterday. They want to turn the whole neighbourhood into a smaller Manhatten Island. I am sick to the stomach and everyone I know wants to move away.

I already want to for other reasons, but I’m not well enough to move. And my garden. I love it too much. I could not live in a flat. It would need a roof terrace or something for me to even consider it. But I can’t make a move. Coming here 15 years ago, it took me two years to recover.

I have contacted a local news station to come and do a story about how the planning office screwed me over and I’ve launched a campaign to get planning law changed.

I am so weary. I watered my garden at daybreak again, but dozed afterwards.

Someone tried to get into my Amazon account again. I haven’t used it since I bought a thank you gift for ex neighbours, one of whom spends time writing malicious letters about me.

So I gave it to Michael, but I’m sure it got chucked out. She even wanted to read our emails to each other. That comes from a very sick mind indeed.

And someone is using my Apple ID which I have never used . I keep getting emails about this. One just arrived.

And so it goes. I am enjoying the weather. My brain feels like it might belong to a goldfish. I forget everything within two seconds.

I wrote two articles about George Floyd and how Minneapolis should be a reckoning for the US. The executions of black people by shooting, by suffocation etc has to stop. Long ago it should have stopped.

The Statue Of Liberty should sink her knees weeping, and Monument Valley should crack and crumble. Darkness should cover the sun, and the moon should hide.

By Chrisssie Morris Brady

I've read poetry since I was nine and have written creatively since I was fourteen (probably long before that). After writing book reviews and social comment, I decided I wanted to write poetry. I have no formal training, but I surround myself with poets and their writing. I am honing my craft.
I have two published collections which I don't feel good about, but have been published by madswirl.com and other publications. I live on the south coast of England with my daughter. I am seriously ill.

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