XMAS EVE

woke up pretty early, 7am. thats early for me. im just sitting here drinking jack daniels & coke. oh, how i love that it is socially acceptable to drink this early when its christmas! well, at least, at 10.30am onwards, not from 7am when i started. i got mugged of my brand new Samsung D900i last Sunday. a boy hit me and snatched it. i tried to fight him off but wasn’t strong enough. some lady in her house called the police and i was in the station until 4am in the morning making a statement. did they do anything? of course not. i need to ban the phone, by retrieving the incident crime number and ringing up 02. i don’t want that fucker to get anything out of it. its bright pink, so he will sell it or give it to his girlfriend/mum. i only had it a week, and thats £150 down the drain (my £50 memory card was in it).
my arms are dropping off, aching, dying. i went shopping on saturday for gifts and they were so heavy i pulled a muscle in my back and was just stuck on the spot and couldn’t move. in the busy shopping centre i had to buy a suitcase and put as much as i could in it, as nobody offered to help me (who does in this day in age; a couple walked past me hand in hand as i was getting mugged and done nothing, not even called cops) as i stood there unable to bend down. i had to kick all my bags along the floor into the luggage shop, which hurt bad enough. but anyway, important thing is, i got all the presents. i would write what they are now but my family will read this and then the cover will be blown. but my mum, who constantly slags me off, should feel proud of me that i had £250 that i spent all on presents when i could of gone on a crack and smack binge and got everyone a present worth £5 each. her presents come to £95 alone. hissssssssssss mum. she is being such a bitch, she is pushing me to the brink telling me i’m killing my nan, ruining their relationship. shouldn’t she know the only way i can change things is by not being here? what she want me to do, top myself?
im off to pick up my script. and get last minute presents.

CHRISTMAS vultures

Today I have had to endure being pushed, shoved, knocked into things, tutted at, sworn at… which can only signify one thing- its the run up to Christmas and I went to the mall to buy presents! Big mistake leaving it all so late. It was pure hell. I lost count of the amount of times I said ‘Sorry’ for accidently stepping in somebodies way and have them tut and comment on my lack of spacial awareness. Don’t you just hate the Christmas Vultures. Yes you know who you are; you ruthlessly dash about knocking down anything and anyone in your way, you won’t even think twice about snatching a toy from the hands of a child who has just picked it, the last one, off the shelf and you tut tut tut at everyone and make Christmas Shopping a truly horrible experience for everyone who DARES to cross your path. Anyway, I actually managed to get some things. JUST. Vintage Pink Kitchen Pots for Caroline my sister, plus a beautiful double bed size Pink Fur Throw. My twin nieces, Barbie Walkie Talkies and a kids electric guitar each (its this totally wicked guitar with tons of Aerosmith stylee noises- since they are 4 i opted for a pretend one). Nanna, loads of special brew and figgy puddings and Palmers Cocoa Butter. Going to get her a wok though. Couldn’t resist treating myself to 2 beautiful corsets from Warehouse SPOTLIGHT @ Debenhams. My mum convinced me to try on a red one (very 50s looking, which I ultimately purchased, its under the cut) and I never thought red and red hair would go together, but alas, according to her and the shop assistant it did, so I got it. And I also got a beautiful beaded one. Still have loads more to buy for however. Which is proving tricky considering everytime I get money it goes straight away on heroin. I got given £40 last night from Tim and I rung up for some gear. It was about 7.30pm and it was so eerie out, so misty and foggy, you couldn’t see 8 metres infront of you it was that bad. I had no credit on my phone so I had to stand and wait…and wait… eventually I went to a phonebox, and they asked me to meet them elsewhere. They kept me there until 8.50pm. God, if stores treated you like that, you would never go back to them and they’d go out of business. But people aren’t addicted to clothes like we are to heroin. They know they can treat us how they want and we will still come crawling at one point or another. Grrrrrrrrr.
Anyway, got to knock it on the head. Christmas Shopping and being in the mall gave me a taste of the life I used to have… when I had money and used to go on holiday, buy all the clothes i wanted, had wicked electrical goods… everything (within reason). I want to get that back. Must go.

clean for a while

im knackered. lack of sleep. sunday night i was walking home and i got mugged of my brand new samsung d900i that i purchased a few days prior. i was happily going along listening to music on it and i just felt somebody punch me. tried to hold on to it for as long as possible but i couldnt in the end, which might of had something to do with him stamping on my head? a couple just walked past me while it happened, and i tried to run after him but he was on a bike so i couldnt catch up in the end. some lady in her house called the police and i was sitting in the station until 4am. i really didn’t want to, i mean, what was the point? we all know the police aren’t going to do anything about it. but neh, how irritating. i have a clean criminal record and wouldn’t dream of stealing off someone, so i find it hard to comprehend when i hear or experience first hand stuff like this. i just hope to come across him again.
apart from that, nothing new to report i suppose. i need to go christmas shopping. i have so much to get for people. i have an appointment on thursday for a new prescription. i have actually stayed clean. can you believe that? im drug free. it doesn’t help that the phone i had stolen had all my dealers numbers in…. or does it? actually, i think it does. thats good, right? that i can’t get in touch with them. might be the case but now i’m just drinking a bottle of vodka a day and about 8 special brew. great. Helen Tilley should be giving birth soon. Sods law it will happen while I’m in Bradford over New Year.
I get paid tonight. I just have to resist the urge to go out and buy a load of heroin and crack for a massive session. I think I can do it, if I lay off the booze, because I have no self-control when I’m drunk. And I need to give a clean sample for this weeks drug test. I have to. Of course, after my appointment at 2.30pm Thursday, I’m going to go and buy the biggest amount of smack and crack you have ever seen and hit it up into my feet like there is no tomorrow… and who knows? maybe my tollerance will have dropped so much there won’t be!

forced entry into my humble abode

well, im all happy and smug, carrying bags of christmas presents and the wrapping paper i am going to adorn them in. been trapsing all day buying presents for my family. been slugging my guts out making sure i have the right things for the right members of family.
THEN…. I think, oh, i will pop back to my flat. I get there and WHAT DO I SEE?
My flat has been broken into. The door lock has been replaced with a cheap wooden one; why? Because, the police have forced entry. Why? I DONT KNOW. ALL I KNOW IS THERE WAS THIS POOR PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR AN EXPLINATION ON MY FRONT DOOR WHEN I TRIED TO GO THERE TONIGHT AT 7pm. No, i haven’t committed a crime, otherwise, the council wouldn’t be telling me i could go get my new keys to the new lock. But, of course, I have to get those on Week Days, unless I want to ring the emergancy number, which is for… ummm… emergancies… am i an emergancy? i have had my lock changed, my flat broken into, i have no working keys, and i want to get into my house? is that an emergancy? i hope so. it annoys me that the council, etc. etc. have my contact number… they have THREE DIFFERENT CONTACT NUMBERS AND BEFORE THEY BROKE DOWN MY DOOR THEY DIDNT RING ONE OF THEM! why didn’t they? if they rung my mum, she could of given them my key. if they rung my sister, she could of also. if they rung me, i would of let them in. sorry, but they are crazy! i am completely co-operational… why didnt they come to me first before breaking down my flat door? all i’m thinking is, wow, what the fuck has happened?

good morning

what the hell am i doing up this early? well, it is now 7.10am but i got up at 6am. i didn’t even get an especially early night… well, i got into bed at 1.30am so i suppose actually that is early for me. i was exhausted, sitting up on the computer and as much as i wanted to carry on browsing through worthless websites, i knew i needed to get into bed. was it the £60 worth of heroin and crack i consumed in hit after consecutive hit? or was it the 6 special brew, double vodka red bulls or sherry i downed far too quickly? who knows. i do not know how my nanna does it. i am staying at her house and at 6am when i went into the kitchen to sneak my special brew out of the fridge, she was in there already. i forgot she gets up at 5.30am EVERY morning, then proceeds to make a pot of tea for her and my Grandad Geoff, drinks it then cleans her already immaculate house before jumping in the shower, dressing and cooking a kick-ass breakfast. 5.30am? my nanna is 82 on 5th December (note to self: go buy her present PRONTO) and as much as i try to fool her, she cannot be fooled, especially when it comes to alcohol. i said good morning, opened the fridge and pulled out a can of coca-cola and when i thought she was busy mopping the floor, stuck the can of special brew down my pj bottoms, shut the fridge, and with my back to her, began to walk back to my bedroom. no chance; “you are not starting this early are you?” she asks, to which i take the can out from my pj bottoms and proceed to put it back, accompanied by the lamest answer “oh no, i just wanted to put it in my handbag so i dont forget it when i leave”. i knew that was shit, and so did she, since i am staying here for a while as my sister and the twins dad are going christmas shopping, so they are coming over. i saw the twins last night. bissy is very poorly so i suspect i shall catch her chest infection today if i didn’t already last night (when she was on my lap hugging and kissing me). well, it is now 7.21am. i hate getting up early as i have even more time on my hands with fuck all to do with it. i think i might try and attempt a new layout for this blog. it would be nice to actually have a neutral layout that isn’t all junkified as my life doesnt just revolve around that, does it? oh actually, yes it does. but my momma doesn’t approve of the site but hey, what momma would? anyone that strolls across this site will instantly know her daughter is a raving smackhead, the least i can do is not glorify my lifestyle with a layout containing pictures of my drug paraphenalia etc. etc.

scared to death

i got up at 10am today, but to be honest, i needed the sleep. yesterday, i didn’t get to bed until 3am when the police dropped me off back home. no, i didn’t do anything wrong (ive got a clean criminal record). earlier on in the day when i met my ECHG worker danni, we rang the police and asked if i could make a statement. they said they would come see me in the afternoon. they didn’t ring me until 11pm at night and thats when they picked me up. i didn’t get back until 3am. hence why i was tired, and i had to get up at 9am. they arrested him at 4am in the morning and he didnt get released until 3pm. he would of been so ill from lack of heroin. even though i had 2 seperate letters he had sent me confessing and apologising for beating me up, my broken phone he smashed up which was still covered in my blood, and the injuries to my body- he was released without charge. i feel bad i told on him and he had to go cold turkey. i thought everyone in the street life circle would hate me and call me a grass, but everyone has said “you will be suprised how we dont mind you contacting the police when its regarding a male hitting a woman”. so i feel slightly better. i can’t walk down the street without shitting myself, ill have to see him at some point. i’m petrified. i am so frightened. i did a swab drugs test yesterday when i went for my methadone prescription. hidden in my bra was some clean piss (which i had just paid £40 for in the form of £20 heroin and £20 crack) but she did a swab from my mouth and i lied and said i was clean. riiiiiiiiiiite…. obviously its going to come up negative. bollox. i am off to meet dylan. i am so angry. pissed off. scared. i’m going to get my commupance. lack of evidence meant he is off scott free. i knew that.

stupid? yes i am

i let him round. i saw him on the street saturday and i let him walk me to score drugs. brilliant. i scored 5 bags of heroin and one crack cocaine. he didn’t ask for any of it, and he walked me back to my home, where he used to live until he beat me. he had no money left. he could barely walk, or talk, due to the amount of heroin/crack/alcohol he had consumed, but somehow he followed me home. i said to him, since the next day was sunday and he had no money, and Monday was the day after and he needed to go to work, I will give you a bag. So he came back Sunday and I gave him £10 to buy himself one. I knew he wouldn’t keep it until Monday morning so he would go to work well, but what junkie would? Come on! He came round tonight, Monday, and dropped off a sofa with his Dad. I’m supposed to give a clean piss test Thursday at 2.30pm and I hadn’t used today. He came in and offered me a hit of White and Dark (thats crack-cocaine & heroin for ya’lls that don’t know) and of course, I didn’t say no. I fucking hope i clear my piss test or mouth swab test on Thursday. Do you think I will? Jesus, I can’t live with methadone but I can’t live without. You get me?
I’m a vegetable on methadone. It is NO BETTER THAN HEROIN. I have no motivation, no nothing. It’s just the same with heroin. Though, on heroin, you have to get your next fix so you run around trying to raise the money. With methadone, you don’t need to. So you just sit and rot away. When I don’t use, I just lie in bed ALL day. I can’t get up, I can’t move. I want to, but I just can’t. Its CATCH 22…. go on methadone and you don’t have to run around trying to raise £100 everyday, or don’t and you have to earn that each day or youre severely ill. It’s crazy.
I look at Amy Winehouse… all these articles about her. I wish somebody would of tried to make me go to rehab, I wouldn’t of said NO, NO, NO. I ain’t got the money, and the state won’t give me it either, honey…. I wish they’d tried to make me go to rehab, I wouldn’t of said NO NO NO.

im a man of means by no means

I know every engineer on every train

All of their children, and all of their names

And every handout in every town

And every lock that ain’t locked

When no one’s around.

Dylan lovingly woke me up at 7am by continuously ringing my phone until I answered it. Even when I did, I was still half asleep I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. Just caught something about him wanting to meet later, which might be a bit tricky as I have my appointment to get a repeat prescription at 2.30pm and after I need to see Danny about getting in touch with the police. Danny is my ECHG (English Church Housing Group) Support Worker and she is absolutely wicked. So lovely. Coincidently, she used to work with my sister when she was in a childrens home. She probably finds it no suprise that I turned out the way I did if she remembers anything of what my sister told her and how she behaved. My nanna is 82 and gets up at 5.30am in the morning, makes a cuppa tea and tidies up. I don’t know how she does it. She came in at 7.30am to see if I was up and suprisingly I was due to Dylan, but I acted as if I had arose all by myself. I didn’t hit the sack until about 3am. Managed to drift asleep at the computer and drop a can of special brew all over her wooden floor. I always do that. Did it last time I was here but at least it wasn’t all over her computer this time.

I sing,
Trailers for sale or rent
Rooms to let, fifty cents
No phone, no pool, no pets
I ain’t got no cigarettes
Ah, but, two hours of pushin’ broom
Buys an eight by twelve four-bit room
I’m a man of means by no means
King of the road.

The reason I was so like that is because yesterday I was bored at mine and popped out for some cigarettes when I bumped into my mate Charlies Mum. Charlie lives near me and is also a user, alongside her Mum. Her Mum asked if I could help her score. I said yes. And decided to do so myself. I scored 2 x £20 heroin and 1 x £20 crack cocaine. I ended up doing both bags within 30 minutes of each other and straight after I had to go pick up my 60ml of methadone. THEN meet Dylan for a drink. I had a couple of vodka & red bulls to try and perk me up but I felt as if I was going to fall asleep. It was awful. I had to stand up to keep myself from dozing off. I had been using this great vein on the inside of my left wrist but on the second hit, I completely missed it all but because there was white in it I didn’t notice. What a waste. Never mind. I’m not a huge crack cocaine fiend and there is a little tiny bit left over.
I don’t know how the fuck I support my habit. My Momma says I’m one of these people that “Always falls into the shit but comes out smelling of roses” She is right. I do. I always find my feet and if I’m going cold turkey, I always come across money. I can’t figure out whether that is a good thing or not. Probably, otherwise I would have a criminal record the length of my arm by now.
My grandad is giving me a lift home in a couple of hours. I hope HE hasn’t been in my flat. I am petrified he will have stolen my TVs or even worse my sewing machine that cost a penny short of £1,000. That is my livelyhood. I hope not. I’m frightened to open the door. Or what if he is waiting with a knife to stab me? Snap out of it Naomi! If he hasn’t stolen my sewing machine I’m going to get cracking on some bags and some clothes, I need to make some extra cash for Christmas Clubbing Money. All those festive Do’s to go to… I can’t miss out.
Oh well. I’m going to carry on listening to oldies radio stations and dancing around the room trying to shed some of the many pounds I’m putting on. I dropped a lot of weight now my appetite has come back. Its probably natures way of keeping me well over the freezing cold winter period. Because as it stood a month or so ago, I was setting myself up for pneumonia said my mother, a registered nurse who is very well qualified to predict such a thing. Aparently, I was a prime candidate. I still am. Great. Just finished a pint glass of sherry and feel as if my esophogus is melting away from the excess stomach acid that is cascading up it. Know what I’m going to do? Pour another sherry? Are you crazy? I’ll have something less acidic, like a Special Brew.

drug addicted relationships

i got home, back to him, having not given a snippet away to my family about what had happened. when i take a picture, i will post it. of my phone (it was a samsung slide-y one, which he snapped in half, literally. and just for dramatic effect, the cracked screen is covered in blood where he ripped it out my hand), the big deep cut in my hand, etc.etc. ALL of which I blamed on myself. I invented some kind of stupid accident. Even though they were pretty good, they instantly translated the “i accidently” into “i was drunk and…”. When I got back from my Nans, after the last post, he was there. And he was a complete bastard. Not even remotely remorseful. He started again. So I did what I should of done and when my Momma rang I told her on the phone, and the only thing that stopped him from ripping that out of my hand and stamping on both it and I was she quite audibly said for his benefit “if you fail to pick up the phone i’m coming round with your sister as well as ringing the police”. I made him leave. I felt terrible. I still feel terrible. For making him go at about 10pm at night. But I couldn’t risk what would happen next.

His fury over the fact I am now on a methadone script and don’t need to score drugs to stay well caused him to be very nasty. Despite the fact I was on a script, I was being forced into getting money for his habit. How was that fair? It was as if I should never of bothered fighting to get on one in the first place. I worried about how, when I had kicked him out, he would support his drug habit. Since he was putting down a floor at mine, he had a key, which he supposedly left in his Dads work van. I am hoping he did, otherwise, since I am not at my flat, he could go in and steal whatever/trash it/wait in the shadows till I come back and stab me. I know he hasn’t gone to work, but has he really left it there? Or is it in his pocket?

The night after I made him leave, I heard nothing from him. However, my mate Dylan saw him coming down the stairs from my flat door. He didn’t knock or anything. But now I know why. At first, I heard that and thought he maybe just thought about knocking to reconcile, apologise etc. but got to the door and backed out. Why no, he went into my shed which is right next to my front door. From there, he stole my laptop, sold it, and proceeded to go back to the very same spot and cheekily do the drugs he had purchased with what should of been MY MONEY since that was my property he pawned. How perfect was my shed… out of the way of the harsh elements and even better, right as you open the door you are greeted by a lovely comfy chair that just literally screams to wandering, drifting ex-s “rest your weary bones”. What would of made it only slightly more perfect would of been if there was a working light bulb in there but, ha, there wasn’t. I realise now the git was shacking up in my shed until he found a place at the local homeless night shelter. I heard lots of noise but thought it was just my neighbours. No, it was him. He didn’t even have the sense to remove all the drug paraphenalia from there so he could at least deny he wasn’t in there, and therefore wasn’t the one who stole the things that were in there.

I’m rather bloody frightened. When I’m out walking, for example to the chemist, to my Nans… I’m looking around everywhere. The first night after he left I was walking back from the chemist when I saw him walking away from the direction of my house. My heart was racing. Not sure what I was quite scared of, I don’t think he would do anything in public, but thats it. Its dark at 5.30pm and not that many people are about in all the places I walk. I carried on walking and he chased after me “Two words… two words”. I looked at him, without saying a word. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Sorry” I just walked off. Tonight, while I was walking to the chemist, I saw him. I’m 99% it was him. From afar, the clothes were the same, the way he stood. It was. As I got closer, it was him. I started to worry why he was just waiting in such a spot. Was he waiting to see me go to get my script, so he could go to mine and do god knows what? I am frightened to go back to my flat and find out. Instead, after getting my script I met Dylan and had a drink in The Vine at the top of Burleigh Street. Quite a wanky place. Tries to be posh and in the heated smoking area outside, there were these complete tossers from a nearby company. A young Asian man, late 20s. Talking about his office cleaner to the group “Give her whatever hours. I don’t care if she does 4, 5, 6 hours just as long as I don’t see her. All I want to see is her timesheet, but not her. The last person I want to see or have to talk to is a bloody cleaner. So whatever you do, make her leave by 5 as I never want to set eyes on her”. Dylan had his back to this loud man and turned right around to clap eyes on him to see what such a prick could possibly look like. The man knew this and was quite embarrased. We weren’t listening in, his voice was bellowing and he was showing off. I wonder what company they were from…. double glazing sales? When I’m having a shit day, I love little snippets like this that remind me of just how really shallow and crappy the world is. I didn’t stay long there. After, I walked to my Nans. Stopped off on the way home and bought myself some Choco-Banana Pocky, Turkish Delight for Nan and a Walnut Whip for Grandad. He just picked the nut off the top and left the rest till later. I want to swipe it but thats greedy of me since I purchased it for him. I could justify it by telling myself he is diabetic and shouldn’t be eating stuff like that….?

My prescription has run out so I shall have to see my lady at the doctors so I can get another one. I did actually slip up the day after he left. My mate came round at about 10pm and I was steaming drunk by this time…. I celebrated my new found singleness by buying loads of booze, magazines & cigarettes (he never let me buy them as aparently they were a waste of money), yummy blackberries + strawberries and pizza. And she knocked and offered me a snowball. I said yes. I don’t think I would of done if I wasn’t so under the influence. That is no excuse, its my fault, but I refused one the next day when I was entirely sober. I felt very guilty actually. I feel as if I’ve let myself down big time. BIG TIME. No, come on, just a slip-up. Start again from now.

I do feel so guilty that he has to go and find somewhere else to live. I worry about so much. He is in the local homeless night shelter which he was in before. He said the food is excellent (and he said mine was crap so hey, in that department he will be ok) but the only downside is its open from 7.30pm-9.30am and your kicked out inbetween. Sucky, especially since Cambridge library is under refurbishment at the moment. I wonder what he does all day. I can’t see him going back to work yet. So has he gone back to a life of crime? Of shoplifting etc. etc.? He won’t kick his drug habit. I know he won’t. All I know is, at least now I don’t have another heavily addicted vein to feed.

My 20th Birthday

Its my 20th birthday today. October 1st 1987. Its also my best friend Tom Bs birthday. I still say best friend even though I haven’t seen him in ages, but since secondary school, which was St Bedes, we were great friends. There were four of us; me and him, my best friend Helen who I have known since I was 7 (our mums are best friends, so are our sisters) and Joe Minervino. Our birthdays all fell within one week of each others, and in me and Toms case, on the same day- same time, same hospital, same year. We were never apart. Joe killed himself not long after his 18th birthday, which we never expected and devestated everyone that knew him. Helen… I don’t see her much anymore. She is 5 months pregnant, an alcoholic who is being given a couple of years to live. Everyone knew at school us 3 would turn out as wasters, end up dying… but not Joe. The injustice…. he is the one gone.
I have been depressed all weekend. When I woke up this morning I had nothing but one card and it served to make me feel even worse than I did. Birthdays are for celebrating the birth of someone special. All I have been doing recently is destroying my family and friends… I’ve been doing them no favours. My nanna is 81, and up until recently worked full time, was full of life, vivacious. Now, if she calls and I miss it a couple of times, the next time I answer and its her, I am greeted by hysterical crying because she has been racking her brains about the possibilities as to why I am not picking up, and she assumes the worse, that I am dead. Its horrible to see how I have, and am, ruining such a wonderful lady. She has stuck by me while I have had this ‘problem’ much more than my own Mum or anyone else. And I fear as if she will soon be gone. She has started to give up, and I know it. And I still don’t do anything about it. It’s.Not.Enough.
This morning I had 3 20bags of brown and 2 20bags of white. Now waiting for me at home (I’m at my nans with my twin nieces, who are 5, my sister, mum, nan, grandad) is 3 brown and a white. I’ve been doing far too much white recently. And I’ve just recovered from the worse abcess ever. When it burst, I cannot describe the amount of stuff that came out of it, and for 2 weeks I had 2 gaping holes in my arm, you could see right in. I have killed my veins so I can’t get anything. So I’m missing hits of light and dark (snowballs) all the time. In my experiences, misses that contain crack with brown are so much worse. I’m due about 5 in the next month I’m sure. I’d be rushing home if I could get a hit easily, but I’m losing so many I don’t need to get excited about it.
Everybody I meet is telling me I’m so thin, I’ve lost so much weight. I’m used to being curvy, 10-11stone usually. Now I am 9 stone, so even though I haven’t noticed my family have and all my friends. I’m constantly getting put down. They tell me I suite being curvy better. I used to have bad problems with overeating and purging. Now I don’t have the appetite for anything. I go days without eating. The only calories I get are from special brew. I have noticed things I took for granted; the things your body does, like heal itself are no longer present. Cuts I make in myself take ages to heal and they nearly always 99.9% of the time get infected and I need antibiotics. I am run down, big time.
There is a cake, loads of more food…. I’m expected to stand around all cheerfully with my Mum singing happy birthday at me when today I met her she sent me a text message saying “You look like an absolute tramp. You are so skinny and you look like a hobo. You don’t have that sparkle anymore. You are nothing nowadays” She has been calling me these types of things for ages. Doesn’t she realise the more she says that the more depressed I get? Not blaming her or anything, but it doesn’t help.
I will write more tomorrow hopefully. There is so much to note. Things have been nuts recently but since my family are about (even though they read this journal) I don’t want them to see. I can handle them reading it tomorrow, or the next day etc. but I just want an easy day. My 20th birthday has been horrible. I just wanted to hang myself. I really can’t stand this anymore. My habit is at least £100 a day and I can’t fund it anymore. I can’t cope with the alcohol either. I want to wake up and not be physically dependant on anything. But instead, I wake up to ice cold beers I have set my alarm at 5am to get up for, so I can place them by my bed for when I wake up at 8am. Then I inject a big fat hit of heroin and crack. Then its to finding a way to get money to get more drugs. Please. I’ve had enough.

life is good?

yes, life is good.
i went through an awful time a few weeks back. i was a witness in court alongside my momma and sis and a few others and it really took it out of me, physically and mentally. it was horrible. i dont know why i bothered. they got off anyway. i say i will never do it again but i couldnt just sit back and let them get away with it, even though they did in the end.
my arm. i have an awful infection from 3 weeks ago. the gear was awfully filthy with terrible black bits in it, and i actually skin popped as opposed to mainline so there was no blood in it. 7 days ago it started to swell, get sore, go boiling hot. my mum being a nurse checked it a few days ago and was so stunned. i went to the doctors and now im on 2 flucloxacillin + 4 penicillin 4 times a day. mum said i hope this teaches you a lesson. does it? yes, for once. i got cut off my methadone ages ago so i have to use, but im down to less than a ten bag a day. i use only when i get ill. for once, i am feeling good. happy even. i desperately want to get onto subutex as methadone still made me feel as if i was on gear… no motivation, lethargic. and i cant go through with cold turkey. i tried last week but lasted 2 days. i just cant do that without detox + rehab, not yet.
good news? I HAVE A FLAT! my own, again. but this time, im not going to fill it with waifs & strays and junkies and drug dealers. ive not told anyone. ive had a couple staying with me for 4 months, who have never paid me a penny in rent… and they are just expecting they are coming with me. are they? NO WAY. i think they know it. but i have done so much for them and i cant do it anymore.
anyway, this place is beautiful. its absolutely massive. huge bedroom, huge living room, huge kitchen, beautiful new bathroom, balcony. ive started to paint the ceilings white. i am having seychelle blue for the front room and lemon fizz for the bedroom. i have no money to get anything else so my worker has helped me apply for a community care grant so i can get a cooker, fridge, bed, sofa, carpets. i feel so positively happy i really do. this is make or break for me. my own little home. and it has the cutest little name too does my street.
im going to start writing again regularly. well, im off to buy more decorating supplies. im doing up most of the interior myself. ill show you pics later.

short snippet to say im alive

What was all that rubbish about life being good?
i don’t have time to write about whats been going on but i can assure you i have been doing myself no favours. got myself a taste for crack, snowballs to be precise. i am puking up blood and have been for the past few days. ive lost too much weight. my body is in such a mess, it is just so disgusting.

i will write something with some substance, soon. i promise. at the moment i have to go drink.
i am at my nannas house and i suddenly started to cry as my mum, sister and my twin nieces left. for days already i have been walking around in a daze. i just cannot shake off the feeling that i really want to just die. please give me an answer god, what should i do? will things get better? shall i hold out?

i had to laugh as i walked into the conservatory to have a ciggarette… there against the wall between my grandads bookshelf and his bureau was his shotgun. a coincidence? i doubt it.

my arm

i managed to use the vein on the back of my arm. for the past few weeks constantly. i thought my god! for once my body is not letting me down, but after the first week it clearly let me know it had. my whole right arm from mid-forearm to shoulder is numb. its terrble, i have been poking it with pins, as in syringes, right in as far as they will go, no feeling. i try to pick up things but i cannot do it. there is literally no feeling there. i can still get the vein, just. i cannot feel as the pin goes in, and it takes a while to find a vein. but after every one, nearly after everyone, i get the most dreadful pins and needle all throughout my hand upwards. i cannot do anything with it. luckily, i have had somebody with me to get my hits because my right arm spasms so much and i need them to hold it still so i can get the hit using my left.
i think something is up with my vein. i did a hit today and didn’t feel it for about 3 minutes, then suddenly it hit. when i put it all in, the pain in my right forearm was so unbelievable, like something was building up in the vein. i think my hit was stuck there (i left the torniquet tight on as i lept up because of the pain and didn’t even think about removing it) and it finally got into the stream.

im in debt, ive lost even more. my body cannot cope with this.

doctor, doctor

i sat with the doctor and a student nurse, which always embarrasses me. i just must seem like a textbook case of a nutter. i wasnt really using, not like i did when i didnt have a methadone script, and i told him this. he was very pleased and smiled. drinking? he smiled, seemed pleased. obviously, if you read the below post you will realise i lied and wangled my way through it.
i hadnt seen any of the old group so when i came out the first thing i done was go over and speak to them. i had a lot of money on me so i done 3 beer runs, which ended up costing me altogether £36.11. when id run out of money, nobody got me one back! how about that! i should of remembered all i was to these people was a meal ticket. while we were standing chatting under the bus stop (how hip and cool!) this little short black fellar comes over or rather, swaggers over with little bits of paper in his hand. “Here we are everybody, Dean is back in town man. Dean is back in town. Ya’ll take the number, call us and we will hook ya up, aiiiiight?” I had to laugh. It was if somebody came over leafleting for a concert or band. Oh well, they are leafleting for our best interest in life, I suppose. Still… I nearly pissed myself laughing.

Everybody said how well I looked, and I think I did. Owed to the shit load of slap and the tight figure hugging outfit I’m sure. As soon as I was back standing with everybody, the people I had been ignoring for so long, I actually missed them. Or rather the lifestyle. Not of them, the lifestyle that meant I got to hang around with them. The lifestyle that is heroin. I miss not giving a damn. I miss not giving a damn at all. I miss how good it makes me feel.
Well, I don’t have to miss it for that long. And I ain’t, I’m grabbing my coat and I’m going out trudging for some gear. I’ll never stop this, will I?

oh how us addicts justify our habits!

I have to see the doctor tomorrow at the Drug & Alcohol Dependency Unit. I haven’t seen him ever since I actually started a methadone script, so all he has got to go on is what I have told my keyworker whom since I now have a community script (I pick up from a pharmacy), I haven’t seen in bloody ages. And when I do see him he scribbles down a few notes- that are so unimportant. I know they are unimportant because while I do not lie to him, I do not tell him about certain things. Like when he asks about my heroin use i say “oh its fine, loads better. im not using as much” which is technically true, if you compare it to me old £80-120 a day habit. Now I’m only using £40. And when he asks about my drinking “still have a drink when you get up?” “oh no, i just drink normally now,” I reply. Which again, is technically true. I don’t drink when I get up, I drink when I wake up… I put my cans of Special Brew and my Vodka bottle and Grapefruit juice carton beside my bed before I sleep ready for when I wake up. Drink when I get up? Pfffft… I wish. I need 2 cans of brew and 2 triple vodkas before I can even muster half the strength it requires to get up and evade the inevitable vomitting fits for a little while longer. Then, by the time I’ve got up, its about 4.30pm and I go to the chemist then the pub for 5, which is where I drink socially with everyone else who comes in for a pint after work until about 9pm. Hahaha. It makes me giggle how us addicts can justify our habits. Ooooh, did that rhyme? But nah, this is the REAL big doctor. He should be just as easy to convince as his time is precious and he will wave me in and out and not care whether I’m telling the truth, or be able to tell if I am either. Not much I want… a reduction in my methadone- I’m on so much it’s making me go over (overdose) everytime I have a hit of smack that is about £15 worth and mixing with the alcohol, its making me constantly tired. AND I WANT SUGAR FREE METHADONE! I have no fillings and perfect teeth and I want them to stay that way. I was checking out a measure I use for my methadone and I noticed that since I forgot to wash it out, the little bit of methadone left in the bottom of the cup had crystallised into sugar and rock hard. Yum… no wonder so many junkies on methadone have rotten and/or missing teeth. If they don’t give it to me, I’m giving up methadone and going back on heroin full time. If my lifes going to suck, I don’t want to look like pure shit on top of it and have bad tooth pains. I don’t worry about sounding shallow, because I probably lead one of the most shallowest lives around. All I care about is getting money to get dope to please myself so I feel OK. Well, thats not strictly true but I can see how others might think that.
So I’ll post how that goes with the doctor, the bigwig. I’m worried about going to the clinic, passing all my old ‘mates’ and stopping to talk with them. I kind of miss hanging about with them, even though during the time I was sleeping on the streets mostly. Despite the fact we had no family, and we werent even particularly friends, we all understood what it was like to be in our position, and it felt better to hang around with people who knew than people who didn’t know or no one at all.

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

New Years Eve was as predictable as it always is. It started out in The White Swan, with my sister, Momma, her partner and her mate Jackie. I couldn’t actually bear how boring it was, so at about 10pm I split for a little walk down Mill Road. I went to the store to get some cigarettes and who should pass me but Kearen & one of his mates, spending New Years Eve like any other self-respecting junkie, wandering the streets with a can of Tenants Larger in their hand. I stopped and had a bit of a chat with them. His mate was from Preston, where they both grew up on the same estate and began taking heroin when they were 12. Get to know them, and you will realise they never had a chance. Kearen bless him took my number as he insisted he wanted to take me out. “Umm…. would you like to go to the pictures with me sometime. And for something to eat afterwards?” so I simply replied “are you asking me out on a date?” in quite a sarcastic voice, as I found it quite amusing. I gave him the number, as I know he probably would never ring anyway. No offense, but why would I want to team up with somebody else who has problems just as big as my own? Before I departed, his mate cadjed a £5 off me which I didn’t mind as I had £100 in my pocket anyway.I went back to the pub, realising I had been gone for over an hour, and started sinking Tequila shots. I was having quite a laugh after a while, most at the expense of my sister who was so trollied she began speaking or should I say singing every sentence Soul-Like in a and I quote “in a tribute to James Brown”. Odd. Not odd, must of been all the booze, ya think? Anyway, we went over the road to another Pub, this one that plays Jamaican music. I hate this place. I won’t explain now but we have to go to Court in March because of an ‘incident’ that happened at the White Swan in the summer. Basically, I’m a witness to a good kicking as are my Mum and sister. The people that done it are nasty bits of work, completely vile and unethical. They go to this pub a lot and so do their friends. I KNEW THERE WOULD BE TROUBLE so I told my family not to go. Lo and behold, there was trouble. Actually, we managed to keep the situation quite down. But as the count downs went 5,4,3,2,1 no hugs, joyous shouting… just MY FAMILY fighting. Yes at midnight we had the biggest fight. After a while, I suggested we leave because it was just getting silly. We weren’t having a good time because it had been spoiled by these completely disgusting people.
So next stop, The Standard, which is the boozer I drink in everyday. By this point, it was nearly 1am and I wasn’t that drunk. But, about another 8 tequilas and 3 Sambucas on top of my normal drinks, I was very merry. I started chatting to a few people, but the night was already officially crap and spoilt. There was no salvaging it. And when I looked in my pocket, after buying yet another round I had NO money left. Fuck, £100 gone on booze alone! So, luckily I had my cash card and had to delve into my rent money. Which isn’t so lucky. I got chatting to this one geezer and we were getting on all right I suppose. My mum announced we were going, except, I wanted a kebab which involved me walking in the opposite direction for 20 mins. So I invited this guy back to mine to booze (I didn’t want to drink alone) but first, I made him come with me to get my chicken kebab. Bless him, he had a TWISTED KNEE and was on crutches! Ha! I don’t even want to think how I looked eating my kebab, while staggering down the road. Anyway, we went back to his which was right next to the pub we were just in and it was right at the top of this student building. He looked exactly like that geezer from Teachers, ya know, the lead one, Simon. And he was called Simon. But no, I did NOT sleep with him. No way. Instead, I embarrased myself by getting out of my beautifully sexy red corset that hid every lump and bump and my tight jeans and into a t-shirt and boxer shorts curtosy of him as ya know, one thing I hated about being homeless was sleeping in my clothes. Not comfy, only PJs will do, or softer clothes. So yeah, I just had more and more booze at his. And we didn’t get to sleep because he had cocaine and I kept on insisting for more lines until it all run out. I said I would give him the money, but he refused. One of the more embarrasing things was well a) i didn’t have my make-up so I looked dog-rough and b) when i went into the bathroom i saw some weights on the floor so I thought it would be ‘funny’ to pick them up and burst into his room ‘weight-lifting’ and singing ‘macho man’ by the village people. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I CAN’T COPE! Embarrasing or what?
So I got noooooooooo sleep because of the cocaine and I drunk more booze which made me even worse. The walk home from his is about 5 minutes, but it took me about half an hour. I was so damn ill I couldn’t walk. People were laughing at me because I looked like the typical “WALK OF SHAME” Ya know, somebody who has been a dirty stop-out and has to walk home the next morning in yesterdays clothes, yesterdays make-up and their hair all over the place. And when I went in the store for 4 Special Brew and Ciggies I felt awful as I was 1p short and had loads of people behind me in the queue. They let me off, however. And I should hope so too. My cigarette and booze tab keeps them open, alone I’m sure!
£130 down, a few years knocked off my life (or so it felt) and I was back home. I ended up after the cocaine wore off, sleeping until 11.30pm then getting up and staying awake until 5am… then sleeping again… really messing up my body clock. I was so ill I just hadn’t recovered even by the Tuesday. Didn’t stop me from going out and drinking anyway.
All in all, it was a SHIT start into the New Year. I bet that is setting the tone for how the rest of it is going to be though!

YESTERDAY I SOLD MY TV FOR A £20bag

Taken from the blog archives. This was from June 2006. Hopefully, this isn’t going to be the norm for 2007.

when i went to robbies house, chris was sitting there. everytime i walk in and he is there i hear this western stand-off music playing in my head. i really cannot stand chris. he is about 30 and has been in prison for most of his adult life. as much as i hate him, his sentance was really unjust. anyway, chris is so so up himself. he isn’t that intelligent at all so he really shouldnt be. he has his own computer company that he claims is turning over hundreds of thousands yet he lives in a grotty council house and rides a 250cc moped thats from the late 80s… he talks down to everybody and thinks he is the bees knees. he used to really fancy me and we went out on a date. i wasn’t interested, i really wasn’t. especially when (he lived about 2 minutes away from me at the time) one lunchtime i popped in to say hello and he took off his shirt and asked me to pick his spot that was really annoying him. “eeeeeeeeew no way!” i squeal and he continues to reach around his back and crane his neck to see if he can pot it “oh please, its really getting to me. ive been trying to pick it for ages” RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT. goodbye. so yeah, basically, he hates my guts because i turned him down. he really does. he tries to belittle me at every opportunity and because i studied computer programming we have COMPUTER WARS where we try to outwit one another on the topic. he hates it because although he gave robs a computer, he always asks me for help even though chris lives seconds away and me half an hours walk. chris talks down to you as if you were thick as shit, quite simply.
Anyway, bex kept on whispering she wanted to score. i said i would do it for her but i would have to do a 2 hour walk, so 4 hours in total, to get it. we all went out with the dogs to the park and i watched chris and rob as they challenged these 3 little 12 year olds to a football match, and lost miserably. we went back to robs where we sat all night. they were just rolling one joint after the other and chris was deliberately missing me out, as he always does. it didn’t bother me too much as i dont really smoke green. he got a big mirror off the wall and started to make 3 lines of cocaine. when i say lines i mean big thick fuckers like you would never believe. i used to do cocaine all the time when i was 14, 15. i first tried it when i was 12, curtosy of my sister. then i started buying it in big fuck off quantities when i hit 14. now, i hate it. i hate uppers. lines were so big nobody could get theres up in one. becky was the last to do hers and she said “chris, can i split mine with naomi?” he scoffed “you do what you want with it. but if you dont want it, ill have it” i didn’t actually want any. i hate it nowadays. she split it in two and it was far too big so i made her cut it again. then i did it, but only to fuck him off. ha. after that round, they did more and more, but i never asked for it again.
uppers sucka. rob is a puff seller and they had just got a nine bar, so were pretty broke. bex really wanted gear but robbie didn’t. well, he has been on it for 25 years. he wanted it, but was staying away from it. they couldnt afford it so they struck a deal with Nick, my ex-mate who lives next to my Mum. he is putting up some drug dealer in exchange for gear. cunt. the bastard owes me a tenner. i have a bunch of his stuff and he aint fucking getting it until i get that tenner. anyway, they gave nick a tenner and an eigth of puff for a twenty bag. we had to go 4 ways on the gear, we saved some for rachael, so it was pointless. i didnt even feel it. i stayed over that night, as did chris. i dont know why… he lives seconds away. but he hates me being there, he really does. he just likes to see me go before he does. we all slept in the same room, me and chris in chairs.
i had no money so when i woke up the next day, i was clucking. rob n bex were ok as they have their methadone. i was ill as fuck i can tell you. we watched the footie and i was just squirming in my seat. i offered to walk to the supermarket to do their shopping, thats how much i couldnt bare being sat in their house. i couldn’t go back to my flat, as my landlord found pins and wanted to talk and i couldn’t go to my families. so it was rob and bex. at the supermarket, i rang john, this dealer from london who was down for the day. i pleaded with him to tick me a bag of gear. my money run out and he didnt phone back. so back at robs, i rang them and offered to give them my very sexy phone in return for 3 20bags. they said yes. i was so ill by this point i was rejoicing. when i got there, and got picked up by this hunky white driver, turns out they were only giving me 2. deal was i had to pay them back thirty-five quid. no problem, as i was going to work the next day. i got back to robs and of course, i had to split the bag 3 ways. i kept quiet about the second bag but staying again that night, the next day i felt guilty as hell, though i dont know why as they were on 60ml meth each and 4 valium and 3 codeines. we walked into town, and pass my flat so i said i had some gear in there. so i had to split my twenty bag again. i dont even remember having my hit. we had it at 12pm and we woke up at 3pm. crazy! i get pissed off with them because they have tons of money and always take gear off me. that day i had fifty quid and spent it all on gear. i shared it all, minus 3pounds worth of heroin that i needed for the morning to get me through work. that morning, the landlord came round and the two dogs were barking like crazy. i looked like shit and didnt want to answer but he made me open the door and he went nuts because they were there. later on at work i had a go at him because he interferes so much, so much. ill write about him sometime. anyway, that morning, becky tried to get me to give her my gear, even though i had bought them all that the day before. plus they were hungry at 1am so i bought them both a takeaway which cost me twenty-two quid. anyway, i get pissed off because they are on combined five hundred quid a month plus all their drug dealing money,…. and they have never once given me a tiny bit of gear. i bought an eigth of gear once and we had it in a day and a half. they never give me fuck all yet take, take take off me. its annoying.
i had a dirty hit the other day. i was waiting for my dealer to come over and was so desperate i cooked up loads of old hits. you know, ones i had lost. so basically, congealed bloody hits. i do at least ten pound hits at a time as my tolerance is so high, and those hits barely do anything, i need a 20bag hit to get a gouch. anyway, i cooked them up and fuck, i nearly passed out there was so much. but almost instantly, i knew i shouldn’t of done it. a dirty hit was inevitable. it came on about 20mins afterwards and was so fucking awful. the pounding headache, sickness, shakeyness. not nice.
yesterday i was so desperate for gear i rang D and offered to swap my beautiful THREE HUNDRED pound tv with built in dvd and video. he gave me a twenty pound bag for fuck sake. i had to go meet him, he usually comes to the house, and we arranged for him to get the tv later, which he was going to give to his sis. i had to go in the pub where i used to work to do my gear. they had these new motion sensitive lights in the ladies so while i was cooking up, the lights kept going off and i was left in pitch blackness as there are no windows in there. i had to keep going out the cubicle. i was really brazen, going to the sink to get water with my syringe out in full view. i must of been in there for an hour. i did the whole bag in one, and then the wash. there was a massive wash obviously. i then went out and spoke to the landlord about working there part time. he was chatting to me about a huge property he owns. he wants me to take it on, live in it and rent it out to escorts. i used to have my own escort agency with a man who ran a pub. it was great, i manned the phones and looked after the girls. the money man…. it fed my heroin habit nicely, but it fucked me up in the head. i didnt like making money off the girls, so i packed it in. now he is running a brothel above his pub and making a mint. oh well, never mind. i’d rather not be a part of it. i would take that property on but i want to move to bradford asap to get away from it all. i got a call this morning from a bloke wanting to rent his apartment. 250 a month… wicked! im going to do it… i hope. i got a call from my dealer wanting to pick up the tv. he was outside my house so i had to go home asap. it broke my heart watching him put it in a black bag with his mate. they spoke to me and couldnt believe how old i was. his sister is 16, she will of had that tv installed last night and be made up. oh well… i never watched much tv anyway so never mind.
im at my sisters. i did the last of my gear this morning. my track marks are hilarious. they are so friggin obvious. the veins on my hands, you can see them so well because they arent covered in individual punctures…. just long red scar tissue marks. they are like long cut scars. i cant stand cold-turkey. it drives me to the point i nearly kill myself. really, it does.
i love staying with my nieces. they are so beautiful. it breaks me heart to know they are so innocent and oblivious to it all. i just hope they never ever do something like this.
im going to pick up my baby sewing machine from mums so i can get working on clothes. how i think i can work while clucking i dont know! i got told that sammy r is planning to rob me of my laptop, stereo etc. etc. he is such a nasty bastard and i was made aware by a close friend of his that is an absolute fucking nutcase. stood at the old bailey for football hooliganism. i wish i had never met those people. they are the kind of people that upon finding no laptop at my flat, would torture me and make me go pick it up from my mums. i want to leave my flat…. im under a contract so how can i do that? i dont know.
i know im going to go and get more gear, and not just stop now. i actually need to be handcuffed and not allowed to leave. i need something to knock me out…….. completely. oh god its monday. great.