A nasty one

Yes, I am writing two posts today. I don’t think I’ve ever done that before. I feel words bursting out of me (a rare occurrence in the past few months, so I should take advantage). I am feeling like my body is completely made up of a very thin layer of skin and inside is just waves and waves of salty water, with my organs washing around in there. One little prick, or taunt, and I may just flood.

Admittedly, I have had a number of things happen at Real Work that have made me question humanity. My faith in humanity is normally so strong, but sometimes it just gets royally fucked. I couldn’t bring myself to write about it until now, when, thanks to a comment from clever Tamara on my last, but one, post, made me realise that I should use this blog more as an outlet.

The first call I had yesterday when I got to work was about a woman who had been brutally and viciously raped. Because she was gay. My heart broke and my head reeled with the injustice and cruelty of it. I struggle even to write that, I want it to not have happened. But it did.

I have no words to explain my inconsolable sadness that people have to be put through things like this. It is indescribably horrific and I cannot imagine how, if ever, she will have any faith in humanity again.

Oh dear, I just pricked myself, I must stop before I flood the office. I seem to keep doing things without realising it at the moment, don’t I?