Wednesday, 21 November 2007

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.