Went Brockwell park. Saw two death figures. Black cloaks, lights for eyes. They ran like pussy's when I chased them. They got my phone though.
I know it was them as I searched all night and there was no one else in the park.
At 5am queue a Junkette. Got chatting went back to his. Pretended he was a smack head. Have to admit playing withdrawal, although he went from normal to sick rather quick, was good.
The gear though!!! Firstly he put a whole pack of citric in a hit!! WTF, that does a whole gramme!
It was too dark brown, and he didn't use a filter. Said he used his groin and bangs up too quick.
It wasn't B and his acting was OTT.
'Wow! This is so good'
Least the small blaze of crack was legit.
He said his name was something or another and I found bear shit with a next name on it!
Bingo! Spy or set up. Told him game over and left.
Back to N’s. He dragged me around Brockwell Park pretending to get my phone.
We argue, got chatting to next guy who gave me a blaze of some herb that smelt like the rotting flesh on my leg. Man it fucked me. Refused anymore and me and N got some B and smoked some crack.
Kicked out again at some point. Can't believe my parents authorise this.
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