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God could do with pissing off about now.
I was just on my way home from the pub, went to the cashpoint, the guy begging by the cashpoint said "hey, you were friends with *****, right?"
***** was a 15-year-old kid who used to beg outside my house a couple of years ago. We used to let him use our shower and stuff, and (had it not been for "landlord problems") would have let him stay with us long-term. Then he started getting into smack, hanging out with the dodgy Stokey smackheads, but nobody who was in a position to could send him back to his mum's, cos she was a crazy fucking junkie herself. Then he got off smack again. Then he vanished for a bit, his picture was up all round the place, but actually he'd gone to stay with another guy (I found out later) to get away from his mad smackhead mother. Last I saw of him.
Apparently he moved to Manchester, using again. Got himself sorted, got himself clean, and died in a motorbike accident about six months ago. He'd have been about seventeen now. I always wondered what had happened to him, and hoped it was something nice. But it wasn't. And it wasn't even self-inflicted.
Fuck you, God. He was a nice kid. Fuck you. |
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