Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Protest? Me? In the street? In Queen Victoria?
When, I was under my last treatment order, uncertain if I’d ever be able to get off it, placed on a depot injection that left me no possibility of not having the neuroleptics doing their damage to me, during that time, I felt like I was awaiting execution, or rather I was being executed slowly, painfully, every day as the neuroleptics mangled, bashed and eroded my ability, thinking and happiness with constant pain and numbing of physical movement and intellect, uglifying, stupefying – destroying me.
Image (c) Initially NO

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