Dear Counsellor
‘You need a little TLC’, he said
Hmmm, I’d prefer THC, I thought…
He put his hand gingerly upon my knee, and smiled with his thin lips;
Try as I might I couldn’t produce any tears for his benefit, instead I sort of grimaced – an expression conveying emotional pain, I hoped.

The interview room was a cosy carpeted box,
The rain outside tapped pleasantly upon the window; autumn light penetrated weakly,
A box of tissues upon the table,
Should I even be here?
I’m not the world’s first runaway

‘So your parents threw you out of home?’
Sort of – now they want me back – but no – I won’t go back, it doesn’t feel like home anymore
Friend’s are letting me sleep on their sofa,
Temporarily
No money you see
No savings
I’d like a little bedsit of my own,
I don’t know what I’m doing with my life
I’m just 17
Don’t know what to do next
Cut off from my emotions
Feel numb
Should I tell you about the cannabis?
About the alcohol and the tranquilisers?
Should I tell you about the shoplifting and the criminal damage?
Should I tell you that I’m afraid of my own mind?

Crisis loan,
Fair rent officer
Income support,
Housing Benefit,
Estranged

Thank you for your Tender Loving Care
For your listening ear
For your support

Society does exist, despite what Thatcher says
Altruism does exist, despite our culture of selfish greed

And there’ll come a time when I shall help others
As you have helped me