Urgh, junk sickness- that is, for all non-junkies (you lucky lucky things- never touch opiates they are not cool, romantic, glamourous... unless you find sucking off hideous fat old men in their cars down a backalley all the previous) the illness you suffer when you body is in withdrawal from heroin... well, it is curable if you manage to get the money and score more heroin. Whereas, this stomach ulcer, and the constant vomitting every morning, is not curable. There is nothing I can do for it. I stopped drinking for a bit, and I was still sick. Annoying thing is, I am not losing any weight. You expect to lose weight, well, no, you don't if you are back drinking AND taking vitamin drinks to replace lost nutrients. My teeth bother me also. They must be getting a right acid bath. Poor buggers. Filling-less, perfect. Not for long, even on sugar free methadone I am sure.
My momma took me to IKEA on Friday, I had never been there before. I got a load of shit, about £500 worth and we couldn't lift it, so I got shipping. When I gave them my postcode they thought "ding ding ding! posh cambridge people!" WRONG! quoted me £140, and when i said WHAT?! they downed it to £85. ok? no, because i get home to find out my sister got it for £35! Anyway, i needed a bit of bedroom furniture so now i have it. it gets here tomorrow.
Today I met my momma after work and she dropped me on Mill Road as she waited opposite the bank. I used her card (my Visa as its a student account- well, not anymore, but was, and it had a maximum £250 withdrawal limit per day from a ATM, which still is the case as I haven't changed it) so I had to whack £350 in her bank, plus another £150 tomorrow morning. As I was standing there in the massive queue, I saw opposite the toilets (the public ones, where you pay 20p to take a piss, or hit up... and the junkie code means you always leave the door propped open so a dopesick addict can use it after you if they dont have the means to get in and passers by wont donate a 20p piece). and next to that the mental health centre i worked at during my school work experience when everyone else went to sweep hair off a barbers floor or work in a corner shop, was the public phone boxes. Used to be 4, now there are two. I saw four shady figures I knew/know walk up to it and deposit how much it takes to make a public phone box call these days (60p?) talk, and begin striding off with great purpose.
I cannot say I was jealous, or wanting to join them. Ever since I got clean, man, I have nearly 3K saved up already, just since November, but I wanted to just go over and ask them if the heroin drought was over. Why? I don't know, not like I was going to buy any.
I don't know. No, my mum was in the car opposite. Im just going to stay away, I don't talk to anyone anymore. I just hate all these programmes on TV, documentaries about heroin.... it was my only friend in the world. Well obviously, it wasn't, its a bloody powder. But it got me through tough times. Now all I have is booze, that causes me to puke up blood and bile each morning.
Life, ain't it beautiful.
Tuesday, 1 March 2011
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