❤️ 09th April 2015 - Journal

Well yet again I neglected to sleep. It's preferable over sleeping, mainly due to the fact my speed gets stolen or my pins suddenly appear to have holes in them. This prevents me from being able to flag my shots. Flagging is when you pull the plunger back upon piercing the skin and when you enter a vein, deep red blood, erupts into the syringe, signalling that it's ok to push the plunger down. 

 

When they have been damaged, as they are not air tight, you cannot flag properly. Therefore you are liable to miss your shots. 

 

Hence the explanation for the two deep wounds on my legs.  

 

However the huge patches of rotting flesh are not just the result of a missed shot. I've missed loads of shots before. The rotting flesh was due to my speed being contaminated with only God knows what. 

 

Clearly they did no research into what they decided to cut my gear with. It rotted my flesh, causing deep holes, black and vile smelling. I've named the scars Mum and Dad. My hatred for them will last as long as these two scars deface my skin. That's forever by the way. The following day after sleeping, the concoction of speed I had in my possession has changed again and no longer had this horrible substance mixed with it. 

 

So another restless night of torment and torture. So I took as much pleasure I could in ensuring they had no sleep before one of them went to work, whilst whoever  was on psychosis by mum and dad duty was next door in the bedroom adjacent to mine. 

 

Although I was using my anxiety began to increase as 3pm approached. I decided to leave around midday, as psychosis by mum and dad was certainly less severe when I was outside. 

 

The level of torture and the frequency of torment declined either outside of their or my house.

❤️ 10th September 2016 - Journal

I don’t want to eat anymore. I need thinness. I want to see bones. The less disgusting fat I have, the less hurt I will have. It’s almost like it’s similar to cannabis or benzos. Fat solvable, and the more fat I have, the longer it will take me to rid my body from the sadness.

I have not one person who truly understands. This is sad. I long to spliff my memories, feelings, questions, to someone who will not only not judge me, but believe me.

Then, they’ll hug me... most likely wiping the tears from my eyes. As the more they listen and believe, the more I disclose. The more I disclose, the more I wish for the life and family I once had. The more I wish, the more my heart aches, reliving the abuse. The more I relive the abuse, the more I want to die.

It’s almost an instinct to run to your mummy. For a split second I feel the urge. Then sadness engulfs me as I remember, it’s my mummy who is doing this.

I long to return to a heavy addiction, which would not only numb my pain, but also serve as a diet aid, allowing me to return to my slim physique.

Drugs not only stop me eating when I’m consuming them, but they also shut up the negative voice. The one who wants me dead. I recon she’s formed an alliance with my family. I hate her. She’s driving me to suicide. Right now I’m very close.

I MUST NOT EAT!

I feel weird today... like I could die any moment. Normally this would be welcomed, but Orion is here right now, purring on my lap. So, this makes me change my determined suicidal thoughts. Although I’m aware they’re getting stronger and stronger.

Today, with R***, I came to the conclusion I am NOT addicted to drugs. My addiction lies with self distraction. 

We spoke about if this drug wasn’t available, what would I do. My replies simply gave substitute after substitute, until we had exhausted drugs. 

When that option was no longer available, my thoughts turned to starvation and self harm. 

R*** came to the conclusion I simply wanted to destroy my life. We already know the catalyst for this behaviour. It stems from always feeling inadequate as a child. 

I wish everyone was like R***. I wish they understood my problens runs much deeper than just taking drugs and getting high. 

My problem is not being good enough. Never achieving perfection. No respite from the negative thoughts in my head.

Drugs give me peace from this negativity, which will ultimately kill me. Starving myself also achieves this. 

I want to get so thin I vanish.

My dad just told me I was on.....

2018 - UPDATE - Unfortunately, like many things my family deem not to be permitted in my life, the rest of this diary entry, and the diary, cannot be found.

Or should I say my ‘psychosis’. Yeah, unlike regular, it loves destroying my written memories of our crazy adventures... almost like it’s real or something... hmmmm

❤️ 15th September 2016 - Journal

Well after more than a few days with hardly any sleep, and the subsequent ‘psychosis’ which I only experience at night, when Sir Cunt-a-Lot is in bed, I finally managed to stop my ‘psychotic’ symptoms.

Just like with opiate withdrawal, I simply Googled ‘olanzapine withdrawal symptoms’ and upon zooming in on ‘insomnia’ ta-da! Psychosis has stopped.

It appears that proving to my erratic psychosis that I may have insomnia for reasons other than doing drugs, it stops.

I don’t know why the sickos do it. I’m under constant surveillance. They can rewind their stupid recording and see I’ve been sat in bed for 4 hours, watching TV, at  most, smoking a spliff, having a drink or popping a benzo (when I could have them).

They can see I’ve certainly not been on stimulants all night.

Finally, they KNOW I HAVE ADHD! They even made a point of telling me I was a poor sleeper as a baby / child.  They’re aware now, this is likely due to my disability, I still have my disability... just if I display any symptoms they don’t like, I’m subjected to their sick abuse.

Nice family eh?? Making me suffer because I had a disability, which results in me struggling to sleep.

Akin to giving a wheel chair user a whack for not standing up!

So sad though. The time, money and energy spent on negativity versus the time, money and energy spent of positivity, shows their true colours.

They are nasty people. 

❤️ 14th September 2016 - Journal

Ate 1000 calories today. The ice cream fucked me up. 300 cals. Although this is super good for me. I can easily do a whole tub in one sitting.

Got 5 hours sleep yesterday. I managed to get my hands on a real Zopiclone (not these fake BS tablets, which I take with so much anticipation, only to still be wide awake, 2 hours later. The absence of heavy limbs is a major give away!), so slept from 12am - 3.30am.

Now, I’m wide awake. And subsequently I’ve eaten an apple with yoghurt. That’s another 100 calories. I feel gross. I cannot have breakfast tomorrow now.

At the moment, antipsychotic withdrawal is killing me. I can’t sleep, and my anxiety is off the chance. I find myself drinking earlier and earlier in the day, desperate to escape the depression, anxiety and attempt to sooth my almost manic behaviour enabling me to sleep.

But I cannot stay on these God awful tablets for ever. We all know my psychosis never existed. I must be the only human who takes antipsyches and still has psychosis!!!

Joys of the nasty, negative, detrimental, soul destroying behaviour actually existing!

But, bar calming me down, which was beneficial when I was banging up speed all day, every day, they don’t do anything positive, bar assist with sleep.

They numb me, I’ve lost my spark... whilst I do not feel the sadness to the extent I should, neither do I feel happiness and joy like I used to.

The quieten down my ADHD... I like my ADHD. It’s mostly, a super power, if utilised correctly.

And then you have the appetite increase! Even when I was super strict with regards to diet and exercise, I’d never dip below 9 stone.

I’ve lost count of the number of times I wake up covered in crumbs. Sometimes I have vague memories of getting food, as if it was a dream. Then I see the empty rappers and / or plates. 

The weight gain is the biggest factor in my decision to stop these God damn tablets.

But, whilst they have all the time in the world, to concoct their nasty little plans of what evil abuse to subject me to next, then spend ZERO hours researching the medications I take, their side effects and the effects of withdawal.

And as this is giving me insomnia, and I can’t sleep... well naturally can’t sleep = drugs = commence the bullshit.

Yes... they’re tormenting me... as I’m withdrawing.

They did it when I withdrew from opiates too. Only stopping when I watched a BBC documentary and another addict (codeine, so an acceptable addict), said she was on day 3 with no sleep, to which to said aloud, well aware I was being monitored, ‘see, she’s going through opiate withdrawal and see can’t sleep either!!!’. Then, as if magic, my ‘psychosis’ stopped.

Yes that’s correct, antipsychotics don’t have any effect,  neither does drug use, as it depends whether psychosis is in the mood. Off my tits on ketamine, tripping like fuck... no psychosis. Drinking and knocking down temazepams... no psychosis. Smoking a spliff... psychosis. Go for a few drinks... psychosis.

I’m asking Dr P about how long this horrible, manic, withdrawal will last, but no reply yet. 

I hope soon, I’m using everything and anything in order to get a snippet of respite from how I feel. 

Right, must exercise and starve tomorrow. I will be a size 6-8 again!!

I AM TOO FAT

I MUST NOT EAT

I AM DISGUSTING

I EAT TOO MUCH

I WANT TO BE SO SKINNY I DISAPPEAR 

I WANT TO DIE

I MUST NOT EAT

I MUST DO MORE EXERCISE 

I MUST BE PERFECT

❤️ 30th October 2017 - Journal

Ok well I’ve finally come to a logical conclusion... I am allergic to dust / mould mites.. and this is what is driving me crazy.

It’s also partly the reason behind my sectioning.

The bugs!!

The creepy crawly feeling.

I was itching all day, and before I left Boots, like a Victorian, with my scripted cocaine (methylphenidate) and scripted opiates (buprenorphine) I also purchased some Claratin and Benadryl. Both antihistamines. One for day and one for night. Came home and took a day one. Within an hour. Bar my hair, the itching finally ceased.

When I went to clear out my bedroom, suddenly I’m itchy again and my nose is running like a fucker. 

I knew this wasn’t in my head!

I knew it was real! 

This was half the reason for my sectioning.

Yet, the itching, affecting porous items the combination of mould really are exact to those with dust mite allergies which thrive to unbearable numbers when present in mould.

This house is full of mould. My mattress full of mould, in my bathroom I painted over the mould. I’m pretty sure there is mould which is been hidden by wood too.

I think the surge in dust mites causes the visual affects I have seen. For some Reason I have noticed black spots appearing in materials such as blankets and would chopping boards. They appear to been thing but they’re all fluff. And if the item is black clothing, for example, it will get covered in white fluffs. 

Certain types of clothing that a lot of bobbles. Other material to like pillow covers. Certain blankets get black spots appearing constantly.

I hear this week and my floor with bleach nearly every day. Yeah I can guarantee you blackspots will appear moments after doing so. 

I have now discovered mould spores can affect anything, including grout. Which is why mine doesn’t stay down.

Anything porous. Bar glass, metal or plastics. 

I stand to lose anything which isn’t made of what is listed directly above.

#itsnotaboutthedrugs

@Gemma_Stalked

❤️ 01st December 2017 - Journal

Well I can honestly say thank god A** is my manager now and not J**. And good riddance to N*****.

I think A** purposively held back the meeting  he was supposed to have with me on Monday until today so he could make his own judgment on me. And I’m grateful he did.

The report written last week reprimanded me for being late when the tubes were running. J** told me I should have contacted them to say the tubes weren’t running. I confirmed I did. I both called and emailed using WiFi to say I was stuck. It really appears anyone else is ok to run late apart from me.

Anyway, I’ve been in before 9am every day this week. Before A** every day. And on one day, before everyone. 

N***** had been moaning that I had knocked the mouse and keyboard wire out of the back of her PC when I got up from my desk. A** said he didn’t think that was a fair comment, as lack of office space cannot be blamed on me. A** said he planned to change the office layout anyway and I pointed out the office completely breached health and safety legislation. If I have a customer sat next to me and D***** has one next to her... I’m trapped. If there was a fire I wouldn’t be able to get out.

J** also wrote I was disorganised and not able to prioritise my work load. However A** came over to confirm the progress of my workload, with about 20 different candidates and could see, bar maybe 2, I had actioned all outstanding. He sad that he didn’t want to send last week’s report as it was information fed to him, not anything he could confirm was a problem. I’m pretty sure my colleague didn’t provide him with such positive information on her outstanding candidates

He told me after he had seen me properly this week, he actually thought I would be managing the project soon. He said he could see that a role like this was perfect for me, as it kept my ADHD busy, as it is a busy chaotic role.

J** also made a huge song and dance about me being not dressed appropriately for work. I explained occasionally I had brought high heals and swapped into them. He also deleted that point off the report too.

J** and his manager J** sent a report on our figures for November saying we had achieved 
3 out of 19 starts
1 out of 6 job starts
1 out of 6 26 week sustainments

I quickly replied saying the figures were actually 
15/19
4/6
4/6

Funnily enough unlike when others corrected their figures, the charts weren’t changed with my updates!!

A** made a point telling the director he thinks I’m a really good worker.... so my time here may not be so brief.

Over and out.

❤️ December 2010 - Journal

Just thought I'd log on to say 'Hey', should anyone in Cyber Space actually be reading my blog (I very much doubt it yet. The ones I have read when I've searched in Google have been by people posting for years and having readers!)

Yes, I'm being bad again. Tut, tut, tut. To be totally honest with you guys, I can only be bothered to write when I've had a smoke. When I'm not smoking I'm either with people drinking or on my own smoking weed. Or, I'm a bit depressed on come down.

Now, when I mention come down these days, I am NOT talking about the miserable existence and suffering that goes with heroin. I found even with subbies to prevent the physical withdrawal I would still suffer quite bad depression. 

Very 'I can't be bothered.' I'm ok if I'm not at work, but a mess if I am. Anyway I'm talking about the mild depression I seem to get when I'm not smoking. I can't be bothered to do anything (but unlike B depression I DO still do things) and life seems so much more dull without you little friend (crack, by the way). 

Life is always so much more shiny, exciting, enthusiastic and motivating when you're high.

So apart from smoking what have I been doing? Not much, a Christmas Party last Friday at the school where my mum works. 

Free drinks and food at 4pm, and then we moved onto a pub until around 10.30pm (We'd been drinking since 4pm remember). Went back to my mum's house and crashed out in the spare room. It was good, I like my mum's colleagues.

Anyway, I'm gonna be boring and go. No exciting tales today, me and my smoking buddy finished the white a LONG time ago. In fact, think I did my last bit of recycle about an hour ago!

Take care folk, stay safe,

J** x x x

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#iwillbefamous #thetruth #Itsnotaboutthedrugs

❤️ 29th August 2015 - Journal

I think I've fallen in love.With N.

My bestie mate since I was 25. He's got three down points

1) least important. He definitely needs to fix his teeth. Only part of him that looks a little junkie-fied. His new crew cur turns me on. And his blonde hair is sexy. I think if he grew the top to blonde Afro curls!! Hello!! I love a fro.

2) MAN UP! Biggest thing. If K**** wants to borrow money why you taking it to him. Why is your free loading sister moaning about borrowing a tenner she's getting back tomorrow. She pays shit to live here. She does shit. Including bath, washing, common curtsy.

3) get a job!!!! If you rent your flat privately you'll get £1,200 pcm. If K*** does the same she'll get £1,200. My bills are £1,000, but add £100 for extras and emergencies. 

So that's £600 in N's pocket and £600 in K***'s. And all the house bills paid. If N&S get labouring jobs they can earn £2-3,000k per month. So each couple has £2,000. Half of mine and Nigel's will be saved for home improvements. K*** will save for her kids. Meaning in a year. So with four kids that's £3,000k each per year. 

That means I can study my counselling

Courses and qualify as a drugs counsellor. N and S**** could do my ensuite and loft extension and garden.

It did panic me not being able to have a corporate job earning £30-£40k per year but now I'm looking forward to it. I'm definitely putting a floor in the loft, velux windows, storage in the eves and 2 bunk beds for students or travellers.

Life, may, just be pleasant and possible.

❤️ 06th February 2016 - Journal

I have begged and begged my family to be honest and come on admit the truth with me in the national press just like they told their lies. It is the only thing that will save our family now. 

But their lives are more important so I decided I have one last chance to fight this alone.

I have lost everything now even my family. All because their lives are more important than their daughter. As they are selling my house is punishment I have no choice but to do this because I need the compensation to buy some where new.

I already have a couple of solicitors interested and will keep trying more.

Like the X-Files the truth is out there.this is why all the photos I have of the cameras hidden in the lightbulbs are getting deleted because they're worried that I have evidence now for a solicitor

If I am successful I want to divorce my family and start a new life currently in the Caribbean. If I am not successful I don't even know what I have to live on for.

❤️ 30th September 2016 - Rehab Journal

Why am I writing this shit? I don't know. I'm fucking pissed. A) my Ritalin has worn off B) Kate has contacted me, still lying about giving me a date rape drug. She might be able to get her daughter back and she's shifting it about my threat with the Feds and the hair test. 

I don't belong here. I ain't been abused or lost my kids. I'm just a silly little rich girl who loves drugs. I will always be a junkie, I don't wanna change, just stop opiates.

I like my room mate. C likes Eminem too.

I don't reckon I'll sleep tonight.

Food is on par with Springfield.

It's shit and I want out. 

Can't wait to bang up when I'm out.

Fuck this 

❤️ 02nd October 2016 - Rehab Journal

Everyone here complains they are fat, but they eat so much. I felt power refusing cakes this evening. I wanna tell Rosa I vomited but I'm worried this is self harm and she can break confidentiality. 

 

I'll have to restrict tomorrow as I can't be sick everyday.  

 

Ended up binging! I am disgusting! 

 

* 2018 - To Add - just like in prison or detox, or any other institution, when a group of girls lose their appetite suppressors they get incredibly obsessive about their weight. I’d say easily 1/4 of us displayed eating disordered type thinking. However, without our magic substances, we all gained a lot of weight. I came home a good 10lbs heavier. Both me and R would use the bathroom and run the bath to cover the sound of vomiting. And not just us, as Sick was found when neither me or R was responsible.  

 

I managed to hide diet pills through 2 rooms searches and amnesty!

❤️ 05th October 2016 - Rehab Journal

Need to speak to R***, talking about trauma. Only trauma I've had is the sick things my parents have done to me. I can't bring it up. No one will believe me. 

Plus I haven't been traumatised like them. Just suicide and my overdose and my borderline eating disorder.  

 

I want to eat fish goujons but I can't have lunch and dinner. 

 

Might wash hair later so I can vomit. 

 

I thin the counsellors want me to be depressed and find something I can call traumatic in my life. 

 

I NEED my R***!! 

 

They're telling me I will be depressed when I'm not new! What the fuck!

❤️ 23rd January 2018 - Journal

Only writing this, just in case I do bother to try and make something of my experience one day. But doubt I will.

N went crazy, recording me with stupid little cameras. Told me he was going to his brother’s and not coming back. When I arranged to see R***, so I wasn’t alone and N decided not to go.... it was all a big joke threatening me with the thing I find most petrifying... of course, me requesting he spent 1 night at his brother’s was enough to cause a massive melt down. He trashed my house in the process. He stole my old iPhone. I’m also having mini anxiety attacks over thoughts he may have stolen other items. If he hasn’t, I’m sure they will have taken them. So I’m not even looking. So sad, if so. Anyway, tears,’spilt milk and all. 

Fucking blackmailed me with the rabbit. Cunt. Came here like he was gonna return. Caused a massive scene. Asked for his stuff and ran off with her. 

I slashed the wires on his razor and shit.

Everyone needs something to love. Not everyone can have a person to love. All I have are my pets. Without them, there’s no point to life.

My notoriety is in full force again. Everyone is staring at me. Too much to cope with when I feel so awful.

I’d spent the week fucking up big time at work, thinking I had a cold. Only to find out I have pneumonia.

Went to hospital last week thursday. Hadn’t slept so relied on way too much sugar and caffiene. So when my meds wore off I was hype. 

Stupid junior doctors clearly skipped uni on the day they read the paragraph on ADHD has more concerned I was hyper and had a fast heart beat. I’m always taccy... I’m lucky to get 118bpm.

So sent me away recommending sugar based cough syrup.

Anyway after a weekend of not being able to breathe, GP sent me back their yesterday for chest X-ray.

It’s really scary.

On antibiotics and steroids.

Have never felt so poorly. Bar, chronic anxiety, I have no hyperactivity... which is very strange.

Chance to tell my story seems too good to be true. The financial incentives are unrealistic, the producer made reference to this blog, when I had not told my colleague the web address. And I know it’s not easy to find via Google. No major websites link to mine. No advertisers... it’s fucking hard to find, unless you have the link.

With my health being so poor, I don’t even care about them having justice in this life. I’m too poorly to fight, too tired for their bullshit, to beaten and broken.

God know exactly what they’re doing, and a lifetime of karma ensues. They are bad, bad people. They are going to Hell. On the other side, a lifetime on earth is over in a matter of hours, or days. I know God will punish them. They destroyed me when I stupidly admitted I needed them. 

People who were my family. I doubt I’ll ever know why on this life. They’ll never put a stop to my pain by being honest. Or prove they’re not as bad as I anticipate by modifying their behaviour. 

As R*** said, they can change things before it’s too late. They could make a tiny step on the road to forgiveness. They can make positive changes... if they want to. 

But the destruction of me, in order to hide their dirty little secret is more important. 

With the dodgy film offer, which will most likely only be a documentary to cause more damage to my reputation, I’m broken peeps.

Instinctively my heart longs for them. Like that split second when you wake up and haven’t remembered the recent devastating events in your life... and then, you remember and your heart sinks. 

So... I’m at breaking point. I’m sure I’ll have more chance of the truth being told if I’m dead anyway. Their sick behaviour turns from abusers to manslaughter, if I end this miserable existence.

Ohhh... just to coincide with the pneumonia, which can be caused by fungus’s... I’ve found more mould in the house.

Every time I’m sick I find mould. This house is killing me.

Think my only chance of living is to move far, buy outright and not work in a full time, stressful job.

Anyway, over and out.

I give up.

❤️ 11th August 2011 - Ibogaine Journal

Ok, well after my failed attempt of reducing / withdrawing from buprenorphine in the Dominican Republic, I’m now biting the bullet and doing it now.

There was way too much excellent cocaine in the Caribbean.. and although, unlike crack, when you sniff subbie it stops you clucking, I still sniffed and not reduced.

Since the heroin drought of 2009, I’ve been getting subbies off N****. But after losing contact for a week, begging S**** for methadone and ultimately buying Brown, I’ve decided to go for it. Started withdrawing yesterday. But Tuesday, the day before, I fucked it up by sniffing 2.5mgs so I could have one more smoke.

Anyway took about 0.2gs today just to get through work.

N**** stayed over and baby sat me! Just in case it got fucked up. By 9pm I was clucking bad.

Sick even.

Took a little tester at 9pm. You have to test first. And you have to wait until your Trainspotting sick before you have a proper dose of Ibogaine.

Apparently it’s a miracle cure.

I spent the night kicking, whilst N**** slept like a baby. 

I bombed it. That’s when you take a powdered substance and wrap it in rizla and swallow.

Needless to say I didn’t sleep.

❤️ 14th January 2018 - Update

I’ve been rather quiet on here! Well, if you read often, you may remember my discovery at noticing half my posts had been deleted.

Work has been crazy busy, and I smashed my targets in December. 

Being totally impulsive, I’ve bought / rescued a little rabbit! I need more noise in this house, to drown out the back ground disturbance created by arsehole family number one.

Little bunny maybe a little special. She’s obsessed with licking. To the point she was licking a wall for 10 minutes.... most of my pets have been a little bit special needs to be honest. She’s called Cyra. Arabic for lucky/friend. I’ve had another bunny I called Cyra only to find out she was a he.

I really love her already. She’s been litter trained in a week. And clearly weaned off Coca Cola, crisps and junk food! I’ve never seen a rabbit hound you for human food before.

I’ve got her a bird feeder seed/nut thing and give her fruit and veggies in the evening.

No more wasting vegetable peelings! 

My needles continue to be destroyed, ensuring they are not air right and I can’t flag. 

25 diazepam have vanished.

The mass stalking has dramatically dropped... and guess what?? Surely there’s no correlation... but my junkie drug use has also dramatically reduced too!!!

Even N noticed that when we were out together. 

I’ve done one pin this weekend. The rest was rectal. Ok, it wasn’t cocaine. But still. I could have been a junkie and IV-ed the drug.

It was MCAT. Which is the same as MDMA I’ve discovered. Not worth wasting a vein for.

I have smoked white quite a bit. Maybe three times this week.

I’ve got a non-benzo sleeper, and I’ve stopped the benzos (yay!). Still can’t see me sleeping without sleepers anytime soon. Hopefully, in 2-3 months I’ll be back to just a couple of spliffs.

Ohhh... having the heating on full blast and buying the extra heaters have worked out! Haven’t seen mould since mid December and my house sale has gone through! Hurray.

I get to move far, far away. If any of this shit continues in my new house, fuck life. I will hang myself. Period.

Wanting to do well at work and having my pets encourage me to live right now.

Take it away bastards.

I wonder if they’re getting worried about me telling the truth about them.

Apparently the producer is going to call me next week.

I need to establish how I will be portrayed, get evidence of their funding/credentials. Establish the size of the project, and ensure they’re aware of the fee I will require in order to sign a release form.

Right, gonna sort some posts out.

#iwillbefamous #thetruth #Itsnotaboutthedrugs @Gemma_Stalked

Www.Thefamousjunkie.Blogspot.Com

❤️ 01st June 2015 - Journal

Wow oh wow!

I just found a pot of gold!!

A pack of Blue Stuff!

My favourite legal high which is now illegal to sell. I'm not publishing this blog until a good week has passed.

Wouldn't want to get psychosis and when your mum and dad are stalking you blogging / making thIs fact knowledgeable will only result in you suffering at their evil hands.

There's only a little 1/2 gramme say. I'm sharing so 1/4 a gramme of gorgeous blue crystals with my friend.

And even though from April 14th - 30th I was probably using less due to psychosis hounding me (my parents, the Junkettes), and my gear being contaminated, unlike then, there's no whipsering (courtesy of the little white speaker they tend to shove under my floor boards in an attempt to have their single daughter living alone think she's mad. I didn't . I do freak over the security of my home though so thanks for the paranoia).

Not seeing my baldy Fat Cunt sibling in a wig. Accompanied by B***** his girlfriends little sister (who has dip dyed hair, take note nice but Dim). How the fuck did he get a freedom pass, and why? Please feel free to top up my Oyster.

No flashes from phone cameras.

No removing items from my bag.

No disappearing keys (I hope you've got my Mercedes Kompressor Key)

No 'shhhh', 'mum', 'sigh' *yawn*

Back like before they discovered I was banging up. Just me, speed and a beautiful sense of calm in my head.

Yes in the absence of Ritalin aka methylphenidate, ethylphenidate works rather well when used sensibly.

Sensibly 1/4 to 1/2 a day intravenously. Still excessive but I'm not chewing my face off with Bambi deer eyes (massive pupils).

❤️ 01st August 2015 - Journal

Well I've been a bad girl this week! Cocaine (powdered), crack and heroin. The cocaine was half sniffed and half injected, heroin one pin (injected) and two splifs. Crack, mostly smoked with a teenie, tiniest piece added to the brown to make a 'snow ball'.

Only a little bit naughty. 

Whilst most of you people reading will think 'Hur, that's terrible, you're still a needle junkie', I think a little emphatic view point may help you not think I am a complete and utter disgusting, drug fiend.

1) As it's been some time since I've use my first drug of choice. And I'm craving if bad. But once I start on ethylphenidate, I can not stop. This is the only part of AA/NA which I can resonate with. 'One hit is never enough'. This is the only drug which I didn't have control over, it controlled me.

2) So to reduce the constant craving to bang up speed I've been using a couple times a week. 

3) Yes I have injected on occasions, BUT I've also been sniffing coke. And the drug hierarchy is as follows 

* Bombing drugs or tablet drugs. Bombing is wrapping powder with a rizla and swallowing

* Sublingual or Cheek. This normally has a higher bioavailability 

* Sniffing 

* Rectal 

* Skin popping - using a needle to just go under the skin, this takes 20-30 minutes 

* Intramuscular - needle into muscle 

* Intravenous - needle into the vein  

4) As my parents made using in the comfort of MY own home, or their fucking house worse than the abuse I receive from the general public, I frequently used outside. This means most my local pubs, fast food restaurants,  park toilet, cemeteries, it goes on, are a trigger for me. 

It's like obese people complaining you can stop drugs or alcohol, but you need food and its everywhere. My using was everywhere. I do wish my parents let me have their house as a safe place to use. When I’m not being hounded I used so much less. Plus, I'd have a lot less triggering areas etched in my mind.

I'll fight these urges for the rest of my life.

I wish my parent stopped tormenting me and helped with my recovery. I needed help, not more chaos. I know I failed two detoxes, but it was like they washed their hands of me. My whole family. They did absolutely no research into addiction. Nor the fact the average addict has 8 attempts at sobriety. No, they dedicated their research into how to make their daughter think she’s mad. 

Add to that, the whole community knowing my problems, which ultimately make things worse. If everyone who tormented me, instead gave £1-5, I could have paid for an ADHD doctor to get my Ritalin, and had money spare for detox or rehab

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#iwillbefamous #thetruth #Itsnotaboutthedrugs @Gemma_Stalked