chocolate & beige

Originally, I wanted to decorate my flat in either a 1960s psychadelic theme or go all out and paint it florescant pink and yellow with black and white ska chequers. However, I thought back to previous similar ventures and had to accept that these sort of outrageous themes never go to plan and I end up with them half-finished (either through lack of money, inspiration or both) and not enough resources to scrap the whole ill-fated scheme and start again. So, I accepted I am 22, getting old, and thought about going with a nice beige and chocolate theme. Yes, beige and chocolate. That doesn't have to be boring, I thought, not with a few signature pieces of lovely antique furniture and some retro items from the local collectibles store. So, there we have it. On Thursday I am going to check out some furniture for the bedroom and I am hoping it is going to be all right. I don't want to get to somebodies house and feign satisfaction when I think the items for sale are fucking hideous, I am the sort of person that is so polite I'd grin and bare it and even purchase the damn things. Luckily, I am taking my boyfriend along to help me out. He is much more able to speak his own mind, and mine for me when I can't seem to. Oh yes, the boy. Here he is, or we are, in the White Swan in January.

Oh yes, my curtains. Chocolate and Teal for the front room and chocolate brown for the bedroom. My Momma comes round to my Nannas to drop them off to me. Earlier on she had a massive go at me on the phone for still being a heroin addict. The proof was in the pudding when she came round to my new flat to see it and spied a syringe or two in a plastic bag. She is a nurse, but que all hysteria about somebody putting their hands in there and pricking themselves (as if my only visitor, my Mother, would come to my house and start snooping round in things that weren't hers... seriously... she would never go through my stuff, ever). I didn't bother arguing. I am doing really well. Barely using and spending 90% of my income on food, utility bills, toiletries & clothes and going out. The other 10% yes I do occasionally score. But it is barely an issue. I sound like a typical denying addict, don't I? But it is the truth, heroin is boring for me now. The only time I do take it is if I have missed my methadone script.

Anyway, as she is giving me the bollocking off a lifetime I doze off and start thinking... how come my Mums collegues and her friends children, well, most of them have criminal records. Most of them find a good night is a pint and a fight. Most of them are rude, horrible louts. I keep myself to myself, I don't have a criminal record, never been arrested, am polite, a good citizen... and yet I am the scum of the earth. Jesus, what would she view me as if I actually did have a criminal record and spent my days fighting and causing trouble? The lady wouldn't know what had hit her. Anyway, must fly, got to get back to my house with my boyfriend. My Grandad is coming to put up my curtain poles tomorrow and I need to tidy. xxx

a quick fleeting visit

Facebook. Facebook. Like everybody, I also have a love/hate relationship with it. It does two things for me which is A) allows me to stay in contact and get back in contact with some very important people in my life but on the downside which is B) Shows me that in comparison to my peers, I am an absolute loser and waste of space who has done nothing with her life for the past 7 heroin and crack cocaine filled years. I can't help but feel remarkably inferior as I watch others from my classes at school already settle down into a life of marriage, mortgages, children, fancy foreign holidays etc. etc. Ok, Ok, I am 22 but quite a number already have either married or got kids, or the others are starting new careers after recently graduating from university.
Why oh why did I choose heroin addiction as my two-fingered salute to my mother and other authority figures? Why didn't I just get up the duff instead? Kids are a lot easier to deal with than a habit. FACT.
A member of my family was commenting on how I could have had a really good car, really nice designer clothes, a house even with all the money I had spent on drugs. It made me think that if anything in my life is paved with gold, its my fucking veins. I imagine a little town going on in the channels and arteries in my body with little high-end boutiques, luxury hotels and resturaunts... thats how much money I have pumped into it. If you have a habit, that will make sense. If you don't, it won't. But last year I was spending at least £100 a day on my habit, so multiply that by 7 and times by 52, and well.... its enough to make you sick. I would care but, I don't care for things that make most people happy. The only thing that makes me happy is doing a big fat hit of heroin and crack cocaine and even then the happiness doesn't last that long. Its a bit of a swizz, just like everything in life really.
My sister is about to give birth this December, her due date is the 21st actually. Its a boy, to add to her 7 year old twins. She is still striving on with her university degree, taking care of the kids single-handedly. I have to hand it to her, at 25 she is much more of a decent person than I'll ever be. It wasn't always like that, she was the naughtiest kid going and ended up in care growing up with a long criminal record. Now she is due to be a psychiatrist. How things change. But hey, we grew up in a household with a manic-depressive alcoholic self-harming suicidal father so I think she is more qualified than anyone to discuss peoples problems and help them through it.
DRUGS. What can we say about that. Each days its snowball upon snowball upon snowball. Heroin doesn't cut it anymore, infact I don't even bother with heroin unless I have crack cocaine to go with it. My veins are becoming more and more difficuilt to find. I'm resorting to worse and worse places to inject but after all you go through as a junkie, thats the least degrading thing you have to deal with in comparison to most other stuff.
Christmas soon. Financial, this time of year makes me panic my ass off as my family always expect nice expensive gifts and you have to deliver. Now, I have my boyfriend and his family to buy for too and they are upper middle class so I can't palm them off with something crap, it has to be better than what I'm getting my family. Eeeeh. I don't want to think about it. If it really was 'THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS' I would make everyones presents on my sewing machine but something tells me internally, everybody would be thinking I was being a cheapskate. Never mind the money, its the christmas shopping. It gets so busy at this time of year I nearly have panic attacks, or I do, as I can't bear the crowds. My nan turns 84 on 5th December. I always wanted to get clean for her. Because I don't really drink anymore, people think I'm clean in all aspects. Thats good enough, I suppose. I suppose.

my neck, my back...

Kills. Absolutely kills I tell ya. Sunday was spent at my twin nieces house as it was there 7th birthday. Among their "main presents" alongside the Girls Aloud Concert Tickets (26th Sun) and hotel stay in London they got this absolutely wicked Trampoline. Their house is only about 60 seconds from mine so when I got round there the first thing I did was sling down their gifts, take off my shoes and join the 6 children that were bouncing on it already. I was afraid I was going to fall on one of their tiny little bodies but a quick suggestion that they go and get some ice-cream and they all vacated it pronto. Very cunning, Naomi, I thought. I preceeded to have a blissful 10 minutes jumping and attempting to perform flips and various tricks, which I could barely do, all I managed was to prove to myself how unhealthy and unflexible I am. When the kids got back on, I got off and was overcome by the sudden urge to vomit everywhere. The blazing sun (it was beautiful weather by the way, managed to hold up all day) combined with the exercise totally knocked me for 6 and everybody knew I didn't feel well as I rejected offers of wine, budweiser, cider even vodka... in favour of water and then cherry aid. Copious amounts of water, the first time I had drunk water in months. The day was lovely. We had Sarah and her boyf Ashley and their 2 children, my mother and her partner, my sister and her partner Andy (obviously as it was their house), my Nan & Grandad, Andys little girl and the twins little friends. Usually 7 year old party stuff; BBQ, overeating, loud pop music and Kiss Radio playing, booze, a few tears. I spent most of the day on the trampoline, convincing most of the adults to go on it. Sarah is over 25stone and I made her get on it. She was bouncing and she suddenly fell, and I wish the camera would of been on because when she did, I shot up in the air and came crashing down on her. It was comical beyond belief and had everyone laughing. Managed to get my Mum on there too, as well as my sister. When I woke up yesterday my back was stiff as it could get. In the afternoon I went to my sisters to paint with the twins and they got me back on the trampoline but god, it was so painful but they wouldn't let me off. If I don't lose weight going on it everyday then pffft, I give up!


My Mum is getting ready now as her and Dean are going to London 02 arena for the wrestling. Last time I checked she hates wrestling but I believe she got him the tickets for christmas. It finished about 11pm so she will get the train back tonight. On Sunday, we didn't really want to chance rushing to Kings X with the kids, who will be bloody tired so the plan is to set off, check into the hotel around 3, dump our stuff, try and get the kids to nap (like that will happen, so at least rest) eat and go to the concert. Next day we will go around London. They want to go to the Florence Nightingale Museum but I think the National History would be better. Oh well, we will see.
Yesterday was an adventure of sorts. I was really ill, my methadone wasn't holding me. I get into town and bump into Amy. Somebody owed her money so her and her friend couldn't score some brown. I know where you can get 2 £20 bags for £35 so I went off to get £20 so her £15 could get her and her mate a bag. He got really arsey and tried to take off with the bag himself. I didn't mind sorting her out but why when she has paid half should she get nothing, and why when I have paid £5 more for a bag have to split it in half. Last night, she was starting work as an escort. I arranged to call her at 7pm and she was to pick it up if anything was wrong. I rang at 7.10pm as the phone was already in use at mine. I guess she was ok as she didn't answer. I will ring her soon but I feel odd about it- I was a bit dubious about her doing it, worried, concerned, it didn't seem right to me... not right at all. This afternoon I am going to go to my COMPLEXCASES outpatient thing as I haven't been for ages. We are going to go out walking in the exercise group. Fun, eh! I better as I will be kicked out for lack of participation. I missed my hits yesterday and as a result, have a really bad swollen arm. I hope this doesn't mean another abcess as it was a bloody hit of white and brown. Oooops. No dope left and I can't spend my money on it tomorrow as I need to pay for London this weekend. Bummer.

This is the test

Whoops. I was thinking about my twin nieces birthday, which is technically now since it is 00:14. They are seven. I was thinking about the GIRLS ALOUD concert i am taking them to next sunday and the hotel we are staying in that night and the museums and places of historical interest the next day I & my sister, their mum, are taking them to. I was reading Shelleys blog, THOSE WHO DANCE... (its in the links) and thought, hell, she is coming off the liquid handcuffs. I came off the liquid handcuffs last year and as a result, I died (see last post) I can't believe what I just done. I just went outside into the garden while smoking my cigarette and squirted my last hit into the grass; £10 heroin and £5 crack. Just squirted it away. No chance of getting it back. Its in the grass. I think I realised there Is no JUST ONE LAST HIT. its bullshit. there is no ONE LAST HIT. you have to stop it. my doctor wants to put me back on subutex so come monday morning, that is what i am going to do. i wouldnt of done if i hadnt of squirted my snowball away but NOW I WILL. i go to my kids party tomorrow and i love them, i dont want them to see what i saw. i dont want me to do to them what my dad did to me.

suicide sundays

"Suicide Sunday" is the term everybody uses to describe the day that for most people symbolises rest, no rushing about, lounging in ones home, perhaps doing a spot of DIY... of course, if you are a heroin addict then you do not get the luxury of a day off and Sundays are always that much harder to hustle and obtain your gear. Not many people in shops (hard to shoplift as you are more visable), not many people in the streets (hard to make your money if you beg)... the thought of a Sunday is enough to make one shudder with fear, but even more so is a Bank Holiday Monday. I couldn't think of anything to rhyme with Monday that symbolised just how at-the-end-of-your-tether one gets on this day. If I did, I would of coined it and introduced it into our (our being, the community of addicts here in Cambridge) dialect. There is nothing more horrid than a Bank Holiday Monday as it means 2 days of hard struggling if you haven't already got your dope in.

Walking to the Grafton Centre with my Momma, Sister & Twin Nieces to do some shopping I managed to pass all and sundry- mostly all looking rather stressed and upset. On Mill Road, I needed to get a Special Brew as I was beginning to shake and sweat from the lack of booze but when I went in the shop, my Momma was looking in and watching- not intentionally to catch me out, just there was nowhere else to look. I cut my losses and walked out the shop but I bumped into Beckie, the twin who had come out for some Special Brew. I stopped to talk to her and made her go in the shop to get me one and as we walked away I had her sneakily drop it in my handbag right under my Mothers nose. Obviously, I couldn't drink it infront of her or especially my twin nieces so I had to endure another hour without booze. I went and got my methadone, which was a pretty bad idea as I was prone to being sick and if I had of sicked up my meth, well... I would have been screwed. After that, we went up to Burger King where we all had something to eat. I got a horrible double bacon cheeseburger meal and I don't know why I ate it. It was sick. Afterwards, I felt so so bad. Awful. The twins were telling me how gross it looked as they tucked into their apple sticks and chicken nuggets. It did look pretty bad I admit. What a waste of £5- I could of used that to go halfs on a bag with someone. I had no appetite and every bite just messed with my gag reflex. I couldn't even finish it all and after taking the twins to the toilets, told my Mum I was having a panic attack and needed to get some air. I went round the back of the shopping mall and found a little corner where I cracked open my beer and downed it. I was listening to my ipod and was actually smiling, this huge great grin as I could feel the relief spread over my body. I suddenly didn't feel shakey anymore, I stopped sweating, I felt calm. Then I caught a guy in a car with his young son giving me a very pitiful look. I felt bad and retreated further around the corner out of view.

I kept seeing everyone I knew but since they saw me with kids they didn't really talk much or rather, not about gear. I just wanted to get out of the town and back to Mill Road but my sister was clothes shopping so another 2 hours were spent waiting and waiting. On the way back I had Mimi and I took her in the store with me and had to divert her attention while I purchased a 4 pack of Special Brew and hide it quickly in my bag. Finally got to drink it after I went to my sisters, put the kids in the bath and then to bed, then left to go back to mine. Just doing it now.
Financially, things stink. I was so worried today about £££ as I knew I needed my drink and I didn't have any. Just by Gods good grace I managed to scrape together the £10 needed for my drink and food. I notice the grave silence that occurs everytime my Mum or sister bring up something I purchased for myself in the past, or for them. In BOOTS we were looking at make-up and my mum goes "You always used to buy that Dior make-up" which was insanely expensive for me. Then she just stops, doesn't sigh externally but know she is inside, and realises that I would never spent £40 on a compact, ever again. I would spend it on drugs. I don't even have that to my name. Shameful, Sad.

What a fall from grace.

Hep C, Ulcers, Jaundice etc.

I am on such a low dose of methadone it is rediculous; 40ml. My doctor announced that I was going to go back on subutex, I didn't have a say in the matter. I did stay clean for a few months on subutex but when I decided to use one weekend, I couldn't cope with going into withdrawals before going back on them (which you have to do) so as a result, I just went back to heroin, where I have been ever since. I haven't had a hit since Friday morning, and that was barely anything. Since it is easter Sunday, I didn't have to go to the chemist to get my methadone which I have to do 7 days a week. Good job I am not lazy or I would hate the 4 mile walk everyday. Actually, I have been sitting in all day and since I drink all my holiday booze (1.5 litre bottle of vodka, 5 special brews) yesterday that I only bought that morning to see me through until Monday, I have been going out of my mind. Bored, frightened. I don't know what of. I have been sitting in this house all day and have been going through the dredges of booze; the last of the peach vodka, 1 Tenants super, sherry, red wine.

As it is Easter Sunday my Nanna and Grandad went to church. They left around 9am and I had woken at 7am. Thank god their hearing isn't as great as it was because I spent from 7.15-8am hanging over the toilet bowl. She heard me being sick and ran to the toilet, I let her in and told her I was hungover. Then I turned on the TV, turned it up and left it loud while I proceeded to sit in my room with a bucket retching and heaving. I cannot explain the panic when this happens most mornings. I sweat, get faint as the pressure builds up in my head and begin to stress when it gets to the stage where there is nothing to sick up anymore- that means I just retch and bring up the bile and blood. This morning, I knew I had been sick for 3 days in a row already so I kept an ice-cream tub to collect the blood (if there was anymore- which there was) so I could show my Mum who is a nurse, or my own doctor. Since I hadn't eaten yesterday, I had nothing to sick up but a little fluid and the blood came up, as predicted. About 2 or 3 egg cups full. I didn't want to put it on my Mum again (last time, she cried, got hysterical, made plans to stop me drinking) so I laid down on the floor begging God not to let me die. I always want to die, until I actually think I am going to. Just like last April when I woke up after having died after I had a heroin overdose. Hooked up to loads of machines in the hospital with my Mum and sister at my bedside. When the doctor told me I had cardiac arrest I went into an acute panic thinking "shit, that was my life, over. gone." But as soon as they disconnected my oxygen and machines I left that hospital and yep, you guessed it, scored. And injected the drug that had just days earlier killed me, literally. TO THINK- THATS NEARLY A YEAR AGO! Anyway, I had to go into hospital to have my stomach looked at as the doctor pretty much diagnosed an ulcer, just, now I must have the camera down the old throat (again) to confirm it. While I am there, they are going to try getting blood again. The doctors in a&e couldnt do it but my psychiatrist insisted there are people there that can as I need confirmation that I do or don't have Hepatitis C as these bouts of jaundice I get (where I am as yellow as the sun, I swear) are going to be extra dangerous if its HEP C thats causing it apparently. Why? Because of my drinking, that mixed with Hep C and I apparently don't have a chance in hell.

I'm 21. Jeez. I cannot believe I have never had a boyfriend, or anything like that. It is pretty easy to understand why though. When I got on heroin, I was just a kid, and I have been on it ever since. As a result, I have never emotionally grown-up. Those years were just spent chasing a drug, nothing else. I never socially learnt to deal with people, have relationships etc. etc. I wouldn't have a clue how to behave with the opposite sex. It makes me laugh that I haven't had sex in over a year. I am so shy I can't look at a man. I giggle at the thought of somebody saying they love me or like me or asking me out. Will I ever get back these vital years in which one needs to mature? I don't know but I don't think it matters that much because judging by the bruises I have on my ribcage and my legs (i haven't hit myself, or fallen, they just happen) I won't be around much longer.

MY TWIN NIECES TURN 7 THIS MONTH! AT THE END OF IT WE TAKE THEM TO LONDON TO SEE GIRLS ALOUD !

tomorrow, one month clean

time just flies doesn’t it. well, it did when i was on gear. its odd- well no, not odd, logical that when i was using heroin the days just bled into one another and i would end up losing chunks of time… now i’m not using, days drag and it feels as if i have been off heroin for about 6 months. to say the days feel longer is an understatement! my momma got back from canada & new york the day before yesterday. i was so happy, i had missed her so much and she hadn’t been gone that long. she came round to my nanna’s where i was waiting for her at about 10pm. she had been at my sisters and was stinking drunk by the time she arrived. momma had treated herself to some absolut peach vodka and the mandarin variety, which i desperately wanted to try but she had already devoured it along with my sister, her partner andy and my moms boyfriend, Dean. momma never used to let me drink around her but i was allowed to hit up the liquor cabinet with her. what a privalidge! she got all sentimental on me and so did my nanna. momma was worse though, telling me what a lovely, pretty girl i was and how it was so nice to have me back (as in, my old personality which was drowned out by my constant excessive drug use). one thing that makes me laugh is the fact nobody really wants to use the word HEROIN and slang names like “gear” “brown” “horse” “smack” are too shocking and painful for them to use and hear. so my mum calls it “doo daa”. “it’s no nice now you are off the old doo daa,” its amusing to hear.
im just on the telephone…. now off the telephone. i was just booking my Gym Induction. i am now with addaction at the building which was the old methadone clinic. they have a structured day programme offering art therapy, training, exercise etc. to get you back into a routine and to take away all that time you have on your hands. coz you know what they say “idle hands are the devils playground”. they gave me an option to join the gym and i took it. i thought it would be a crappy sports centre but its a really nice play with good gym & pool. you have a card that you swipe each time you go and at the end of 1 month addaction get billed and see if you are using it and ask you if its helping you. i used to go to GREENS this super nice gym by my old house but it was £50 a month and i couldnt afford it once i got on gear. i cant afford this one either really but i dont feel bad about addaction getting the bill, after all, its saving money in other areas like my healthcare for when i get so poorly every winter. thats Wednesday i go. kind of makes me nervous that i’m really unfit and ill have to start from the bottom. i am really self-concious too so that will cause me problems. i have put on soooooo much weight and the thought of being in a bikini makes me want to barf, and probably will make others want to, too! what am i going to do about booze? i have tried to lower my drinking but i get the worse withdrawals its awful. i cant turn up pissed to the gym but i can’t leave the house without one. what a catch 22, what with the booze making me even fatter. oh yeah, my momma got my HERSHEYS CHOCOLATE PRETZELS in a big tin and 2 M&M Lip Balms. really helps to have choco flavoured chap stick i can tell you, and knowing those pretzels are in the kitchen just a’ callin’ my name…. torture.
went to art therapy on thursday, i loved it. really loved it. anyway, must book a dentist appointment and also get ready. i’m still in my pjs! lazy, i know.

2nd November

To think my mother told me I was too old to have a chocolate advent calendar this year. And my sister too. We may be 21 and 25 but I am happy to report Nanna did not disappoint and purchased us one. Phew. I haven’t gone a year without one since I was old enough to gum chocolate. Christmas is stressing me slightly; last year I spent a few hundred pounds on presents but the irony will have it that now I am actually on subutex and clean, I have no money. A measley £200 I get a month and that is not all in one lump, so I am going to have to plan presents carefully. Everybody is telling me it does not matter what I get them, no matter how small, as they are just estatically happy I am well. That is all very well but in practise, I cannot come christmas morning deliver nothing. Twins come first and then I will think about everyone else. So much for all the parties I wanted to go to. Never mind, I am pretty damn happy just to be around my family. I love xmas time. BREAKTHROUGH: my family are actually trusting me with money. Asked what I would like for christmas, I said clothes so naturally my Nanna and my Momma will give me money, not buy them for me and cross their fingers hoping I will like them. Yes, you read me right… they are going to physically give me the money. They said they trust me. I might of wrote somewhere that never in the past few years have they trusted me with even a £1 coin, as that might be the £1 needed to make it to £10, and then get a bag of heroin. Which I do not blame them for. Some family & friends of addicts would think this is way too early to be giving money to a junky as they are only just over a month clean, but they obviously have faith in me and so do I. Even if I didn’t, I couldn’t let them down it would break their trust and their hearts. I could not do it, period. I need some new clothes, anyway. I went shopping with my Momma last week and she got me some trainers, gym clothes and one of those wanky ipod nano holders you strap to your arm for the gym. I looked the part all kitted out in my outfit but when I got in the gym I thought I was going to pass out and die. I hadn’t had a drink of alcohol and my head was spinning- before I even got on a piece of exercise equipment. I left the gym, walked to a shop but it was shut. Cashpoint outside was broken and the pub next door didn’t except cards. I took this as a sign and walked back to the gym where I started small. Couldn’t believe how unfit I was, I used to be able to do 40 minute runs at my old gym at level 10 (12 being the max). I went the next day (thursday) and did a lot better 35 minutes on the cross treader. Then 10 minute warm-down on the treadmill. When I got off that I actually thought I was going to faint. I told myself I couldn’t and shouldn’t push it. I haven’t been since, so a 4 day break. I am going today in an hour. That will give me time to have a work-out, get a shower and get to my doctors appointment on time and then to see my key worker. My key worker was off sick for a good while but she is back and I met with her at the coffee shop with her cover, Liz, who looked after me while she was gone. That was Friday. She asked me if I would like to go swimming with her as she wants to get healthy, too. I said yes, of course. She is absolutely lovely, the best key worker I could wish for. 10 years ago she used to look after my sister in a childrens home. So she sort of remembered me, but definetely did my momma and sister.
Oh it is raining and is damn right miserable. Appointments are at 2.30 and 4 I believe so I have to hang about in between. I will have to stay away from anywhere that sells yummy food. I started out so well last week; cut out booze, chocolate, ate lean meats and salads. Then, I went to the pub with my sis & momma on saturday and the drinking never stopped- I added up my alcohol calories and I nearly died. My weight is ballooning and ballooning and I need to stop it in its tracks. I don’t want to buy big clothes it will just depress me. If heroin was good for one thing, it was weight loss (note: please nobody actually take it to loose weight, took about 2 years for me to drop my weight and it came at a price, i actually looked like shit). I totally forgot my twin nieces were sitting in the front room. They have both been so very ill since Friday afterschool. We knew something was wrong as they couldn’t eat and just laid in bed, interacting with one another through strained messages spoken to me and relayed to the other. Bless ‘em. Lots of Calpol and a few days later and they should be ok for school tomorrow. HOUSE MOVE: going well. Looking to have a place soon. Phew. Cannot wait. Once I do, its straight back to work or at least work from home- but I would have to research self-imployment for a brief period as I would be doing that until September only. When I meet my key worker today we are going to go over a university & college prospectus, so I can apply ASAP. I cannot go another year without not being in education. Would kill me!
My Momma is back at work. They start you off softly, since she was nearly 5 months off. Only mornings this week. My family keep on buying me stuff and offering to pay for this and that, I tell them no need but they are so happy I am staying clean they cannot stop treating me. I guess because they have always been generous with what little they had and while I was on gear, they couldn’t treat me as I wasn’t always around and for moral and fairness reasons, too (why should I spend all my money on gear when my momma works hard for her poxy wage only to buy us stuff?). I guess she is making up for it. I should get ready- for being humiliated at the gym. ha.
Sunday, non-league Histon beat Leeds 1-0 at home. My uncle does the illustrations/cartoons for the Histon Programme so he got to go with his partner, Sonia. I totally forgot about how much I loved sport when I was using so its nice to be able to sit and enjoy it again. http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/football/fa_cup/7744743.stm

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.

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.

london 2 brighton

Yesterday was my Nannas birthday. It was lovely, really. She was 81 and all throughout the day, members of the family came trickling through the house with gifts. It felt strange in a way. Probably because this is the first ‘family thing’ that I have been involved in for a long time, after all, I was cast out due to my habit. But the day was a bit of a ‘welcome back to the family…. for now’. Many comments were made to me about “Isn’t it nice to be back. Carry on doing well and you will never ever be treated like you were again,” So not said without exercising some caution, and quite rightly so. I obviously never told them that actually, I have slipped up awfully and have spent over £420 on heroin this past 2 weeks. I know this exact figure because I checked it on my bank statements online, just now. Awful. Anyway, I stumbled out of bed yesterday and greeted my Nanna in the kitchen with some beautiful Fair Trade Pink Pastel Roses and a bottle of Cherry Brandy. My Nanna loves a tipple, or two, or ten.
Later on that day, I had to go out and meet Dylan which upset me a bit because just as I left my Nannas my twin nieces came over. I wanted to see them for a lot longer but I only had enough time to have a quick chat, a kiss & a cuddle. Anyway, I went to see him. I felt he was being really odd with me, and I do not blame him. At 10:22pm Monday he sent me this text; “Ok its official. I didn’t want it 2 happen but it has & i dont know what 2 do i just love you, u mad crazy girl. u drive me mad, i cant stop thinking about u, fuck & bollox, what r we going 2 do x” So, since I did not reply, he obviously did not know how I would take it, so was a bit unsure. Even I don’t know how to take it, yet. We sat in the pub for a while, but as it was my Nannas birthday I wanted to get home and see her again, so he left early. Before I was about to leave my sister rang and asked where I was. When I said pub she immediately said she wanted to come out and I suggested we go see London To Brighton. So 20 minutes later she was sitting in the pub with me at 6.30pm and we were downing vodka & oranges which was very bad for me as I hadn’t had one thing to eat and had been drinking since 3ish. The cinema we saw the movie is actually above a pub, a really cheap Wetherspoons. We had a rediculous amount of booze that by the time it came to the movie, we were so messed. We ended up getting popcorn and fanta and 6 beers, which we happily devoured. My sister insisted on going to the toilet halfway through and I realised she was gone a real long time. When I exited to go find her, I found her behind the popcorn counter taking some beers out the fridges as the stand was unattended. She did this purely because she was drunk, god knows why of course. I quickly ushered her back. It was a wicked film. I agree when they say its the best in a long time. The end kind of disappointed me, if you see it you will understand what I mean.
I did a stupid thing on the way back. I got a call from the boys from London, to say they were in town. They said they would meet me on the way back from the movie so I got out £79 and got 4 bags. I did this because I was drunk. Today, I realised I didn’t even need them. I had a tiny hit this morning but it was horrible. I passed out in the bathroom and woke up about 40 minutes later… too stong for me. Their gear changes all the time and its impossible to estimate the strength, and when your veins are tough like mine to get, you dont have the choice to “do a bit, if it isnt good enough do another bit”. The stupid thing wasn’t buying it, moreso buying it infront of my sister. I told her that it was for Laila and she hardly believed me. Luckily, she has not told my family yet. If she does, I am up shit creek.