When are you going to grow up and take responsibility for yourself and your pathetic little life? To wake up and realise that moaning, day in day out, is so, so, so boring. That singing badly over a nineties’ rap song is not performance art… or even remotely enjoyable. And I don’t care if it is meant to deliberately frustrate the viewer! That while you have been moping about, waiting for inspiration to thwack you on your talentless, privileged head, the world has moved on, life has moved on. And you have no right to judge those who have tried to move on with it. Or to leech off them for free food and twenty-four-hour mental-health care. That everyone loses people they love, has their heart broken. It’s how they deal with it that counts. That you could have asked me, just once in all these fucking years, how I felt, sometimes. Cos I didn’t feel great, a lot of the time.