As I left N****’s block, I was relieved it was a warm night.
I was still unsteady from my Oh Shit dose of ethylphenidate I had just banged up in the rubbish room at the bottom of the block. I wouldn't need to reload for another 4 hours or so.
My heart beat began to slow down as I walked towards Brockwell Park, my home for the night.
My family had clearly predicted this and already set up camp for tonight's Oscar winning performance of Psychosis by Mum and Dad. I shouldn't be so damn predictable. (The following day I found numerous sleeping bags and camping equipment in the bushes to validate this weird shit isn't psychosis but all a huge act)
I walked up the road where I knew there was a wooden fence, making the park easily accessible. Just like the American stereo types, proper 101 Dalmatians style, there was a 6 foot, iron, spiked fence around the majority of the park.
Here I could climbed the fence easily and access the park, now locked up.
Upon jumping over I was soon greeted by not one, but two, Grim Reapers. White Scream type masks and long black cloaks. I saw them slowly walk in my direction.
I immediately ran towards them, and hysterically they both turned and ran for their lives. I have never seen anything more hysterical than death, trying to spook me, only to turn and run like a pair of chickens, from an 8 stone / 112lbs skinny, female.
I wanted to catch them, but realised my phone had gone. I stopped and turned to look for it. If the people in the park were a figment of my imagination, there was no one present to take my phone.
It had gone however. This was planned. The person who took it answered all calls but mine, promising to return the phone. Phone-less I couldn't record any of their bullshit, transfer money to the account I had a cash card for (my psychosis includes stealing 8 cash cards and 7 SIM cards), contact anyone bar my parents, so basically making my survival without my parents impossible. I'm 34 not 14 by the way.
Unable to find my phone, from the straight line I had run, in the empty park I decided to find some bushes with light, enabling me to bang up again. As I turned to walk up the hill a line of 50 or so, people were walking in the distance.
Boo hoo! They never approached me. So I didn't give a shit. You see, unlike real psychosis, mine was not terrifying, scary nor frightening. Mine was fucking annoying, and only within the realm of human possibility.
No one flew, no Satan in my face, no scary shadows. The only voices I heard were my family. Unlike everyone else there were no voices saying 'kill yourself', 'stab them' or 'jump'. I only heard my brother reading my phone text messages or blog.
I never used to get psychosis or as I like to say bothered / tormented at N****’s. Never at my girlfriend's and we banged up loads. Apart from hearing and seeing my father, brother and his girlfriend from my bedroom window, nothing at Springfield and I used a hell of a lot in there. A gram of speed intravenously, benzos and a couple of splifs daily.
So I headed towards the line of boring fuckers who had nothing better to do than torment someone with a drug addiction, ultimately making them use more, opposed to doing something positive which would help me.
I walked into some thick bushes heading as far in as possible. I had learnt to do this as if anyone actually approaches me,
I'll hear them break branches and push past bushes. This helped me determine if the voices I heard were actual people or coming from carefully planted speakers.
Yes speakers! My family have gone to grave detrimental detail to try make me believe I'm mad. Sad as ADHD treatment would have reduced if not stopped my drug abuse, helped me, not destroyed my life and I'd probably be clean now.
So much negativity for someone who needed just one person to reach out and help her. Due to my two failed detoxes where the doctor removed my meds, knowing that was my reason for admittance, only ensured the abuse continued. As I failed, my family decided further positive help should not be given, but full steam ahead on trying to make our sane daughter think she's mad. So so terribly sad. I'll never think I was mad. Unless my father tells the truth I'll never forgive or love him again.
So, with the bushes and branches creating a barrier, I ignored my parents voices from the speakers, knowing they were no where near me. Using the moon light, another reason stealing my phone was vital, I used my bag to make a tourniquet and removed the syringe I had, Blue Peter style, made earlier.
Soon, dawn began to approach, so I headed back towards where I lost my phone desperately trying to retrieve it.
Walking back and forth, I noticed the park warden and hid in the bushes. He opened the gate.
I continued my search when a male with a heavy rucksack walked through the gate.
'Hey, what you doing here?' He asked
'Trying to find my phone. You?'
'Just finished work'
'Can you help me look?'
Little did I know he was a Junkette, planted by my parents with average acting skills.....
To be continued in part 3
