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Tuesday, 9 June 2015

❤️ 02nd June 2015 - Journal

N turned nasty as he is commanded to when on ethylphenidate. Kicked me out at 1.30am. 

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.






❤️ 09th June 2015 - THE TRUTH!!!!!

Fuck me, I've been told the truth.

The Junkettes - Readers of The Sun

The person whom I believed to be my best friend... Well he conveniently snapped me smoking crack.

So the whole of the UK (majority, The Sun is probably the most read newspaper), believes I am a crack head.

This is why I'm famous. And it's damn unfair. Yes I am a junkie. But I suppose 'girl addicted to ethylphenidate who has ADHD is banging it up' wouldn't evoke as much hatred as 'CRACK HEAD, LET'S MAKE HER THINK SHE'S CRAZY'

When I was told everything fell into place. It's so sad, this is why even when I'm clean I have stalkers. Everyone is ready and waiting to knock me down. Not one person will help me.

I want my concerta back. Until I have a date for rehab this isn't happening. My drugs team are messing me around. Giving me a new excuse each time. I'd go detox today if someone would get me in their (you have to be clean before rehab and I need to detox from buprenorphine).

All this madness does is make me use.

My parents could have paid for private rehab months ago. 

I don't like having to use... I like choosing to use. The only drug free time in my life was when I was on concerta (Ritalin).

I cannot fight against the whole of the UK. I doubt I can wait 3-4 months for rehab.

There's always another way out though. It makes me sad contemplating it, but the thought gives me so much peace in my head.

My rabbit has bonded so Mr Fyver and Mrs Fluffy no longer need me.

My cat Orion has found a new home. 

There's nothing left for me really.

Why would any parent want their child to think they're mad. Why? 

I wish I had the kind who sends their kids to rehab.

I wish mine understood it's not as easy as just stopping.

I wish they had ADHD so they knew how my brain feels.

I wish they would help me.

I wish they would tell the truth about me.

Most of all, I wish they would give me a break.

I may find it possible to forgive my mother. Never my father. He is evil, pure evil. When he did the nasty evil things to me I would hear her crying.

Each time another nasty thing happens to me I think my mummy allows this. 

If anyone can help me get into rehab please let me know. All I want is my Ritalin, rehab and a chance to tell the truth.

I know I need help. I know I have problems, I can't do it alone. I'm running out of fight now.

Desperately sad J (I'm changing my name) the junkie or as you know me, the crack head.












Monday, 1 June 2015

❤️ 01st June 2015 - Query To USA and Ireland

Just wondering can you purchase Ethylphenidate in Ireland and USA?

I'm half way through a Once Upon a Time post at the moment.

But this question popped up and my ADHD brain wants answers now and before it forgets.

Would love to know what legal highs people have experienced.

So all my sidewalk walking, trash can using, readers who say aluminium wrong (Al-You-Min-Yun, not Al-loom-Mi-On... You speak English so the English chick's definitely correct 😀)

Or my potato loving to be sure, we're having a grand ol' craic readers I'd love to hear back.

The comments are not racist! 
1) I love America, you make the second best movies and have the BLAM-est rappers 

2) I'm 1/4 Irish as my father's parents were Irish and immigrated here due to a 20 year age gap between my grandfather and grandmother.

3) I'm a believer of karma, love, peace, The Universe and all things nice 

Mwah, please recommend my blog, share and first commenter gets a post dedicated to them!!

(Yes I'm dying for a comment)

Junkie J









 

❤️ Once Upon A Time - 01st June 2015 - Ethylphenidate Overdose


Whilst theoretically I haven't overdosed on diamorphine, ethylphenidate, cocaine or ketamine, I have come pretty darn close.

Due to my daily use of ethylphenidate I had several near misses. I call them 'oh shit' moments. They generally happen when I'm half way through a shot, the terrifying realisation I've done way too much.

I'd then pull the pin out in a panic as my heart began racing so fast Usan Bolt would look slow in comparison.

The scariest times were when I was alone. The realisation death was creeping close to my meer existence.

One of the times I can recall was a sunny late summer, early autumn day. The sun beamed through my bedroom window, whilst the cool breeze wafted in.

My house mate N needed to go out to attend to some business. I had secretly be longing for him to leave, enabling me to indulge in my DOC (Drug Of Choice) alone, free from judgement.

I hurried him out the door, insisting I would be fine, and no sooner as I had closed the door, I leaped and bounded upstairs to my bed side cabinet where my ethylphenidate lay.

I picked up a pink Never Share syringe. At the time I was still purchasing needles from Exchange Supplies website over using exchanges all the time. Never Share are syringes with different brightly coloured plungers enabling you to bag a colour and not worry about sharing in error. Pink for me and green for my friend.

I also ripped a new needle off a strip of 5. They were orange 25g (25 gauge) needles and an inch in length. They are popular for hitting the vein in your groin.

I had started using them due to the sheer damage I had done to my surface veins due to the incredible caustic nature of ethylphenidate. It makes diamorphine cooked with citric seem akin to saline.

Needless to say my surface veins rarely allowed me to flag (draw blood into the syringe), so the bigger needles were needed to hit the deeper veins in my arms and legs.

I eagerly filled the syringe with the white crystals to just over the 1.5ml mark, opened a bottle of mineral water purchased so I could use in McDonald's toilet previously.

I tilted the bottle and placed the syringe into the bottle neck and drew back water until it was just over the 2.5ml mark.

I knew I was over indulging. I had only received the crystal ethylphenidate that morning. Just like those of you who smoked skunk all the time, it began to lose its potency and switching to Thai weed would get you more intoxicated. I had been purchasing from the legal high shop recently, so knew due to the change in brand, I would definitely be feeling this hit.

As I turned to leave the bedroom I caught sight of me. 7.8lbs (106lbs / 48kgs). A skeleton with a thin layer of grey skin and hollow eyes staired back. I was ugly. But thin!

The crystals began to dissolve but my impatience got the better of me, so after a few shakes, I ripped open the fresh needle and pushed it firmly into the hot pink coloured syringe.

I was using my left arm just down from my elbow on my forearm to bang up. I bounded down stairs turning the syringe up and down, mesmerised as the crystals floated from one end to the other. Like Joey from Friends and the pen that when turned revealed a lady's boobies. 

I entered the kitchen and, no longer requiring a tourniquet due to my experience. I was easily injecting 10-20 times a day using at least 1 gramme and up to 3 grammes, possibly 4.

I inserted the fresh pin, slanted side up, at a 45 degree angle robotically due to my ridiculous usage and tolerance. Once half way in I pulled back on the pink plunger.

A dark scarlet stream rushed into the barrel, spreading in whisps, fading from the deep, dark claret colour to a light brown/purple as it infused with the Ethylphenidate. 

I'd flagged. I began to push down on the plunger. Immediately I felt the burn, incredibly painful but I was certainly accustomed and unfazed at the pain. My veins where most likely burning away inside out due to my disgusting habit.

Push, push, push, past the 2ml mark. Push, push, push, to the 1.5ml mark. I could feel the speed surge from my arm, burning as it journeyed through my upper arm and towards my brain. Push, push, push, OH SHIT!

I had only just reached the 1.5ml mark. My eyes widened far wider than normal and my jaw clenched shut, catching some of my cheek in the process.

Thud, thud, THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!

My heart began to pound so fast, it was almost humming opposed to making separate thumps.

I pulled the needle out placing it, unaware, on the worktop.

Whoooooosh, a torrent of dizziness hit my head, sending my world topsy turvy, causing me to stumble.

I automatically grabbed the worktop to steady my self. The smell of ethylphenidate began to seep from my pores. 

THUD! THUD! HUMMMMMM!

'God no' I said allowed to God. The infamous black mist encroached my vision creating a view similar to when on TV they showed you the view through binoculars. A heat radiated from below my rib cage spreading in all directions, making me perspire and causing my face to glow like the log fuelled fires of winter.

I caught sight of my gorgeous cat T**** lying in the afternoon sun, on my semi circle seat. Almost aware of my stupidity he glanced over looking directly into my own gaze.

T**** was only 6, but rather skinny due to what I believed was IBS. He was lazy with washing, so I washed him. Baby wiped his face, bottom, cut out poo, powdered him with glittery scented talcum powder, endeavouring to mask his unique smelly cat aroma, cleaned the numerous litter box accidents, put up with his cantankerous nature... 

O**** his second cousin/ brother would be rehomed easily, but T****, only I would surely devote the time to care for him. And I didn't want my boys split.

'Oh God what have I done?' Again I spoke aloud.

'I don't want to die'

'Please let me live'

'I don't want to die'

'Please let me live'

'I don't want to die'

'Please let me live'

My life whooshed past my eyes. Riding my bike aged 7, pretending it was a horse. Stuffing dollies under my jumper aged 8 with my friend G**** so we could subsequently pretend to give birth. Being taught simple one hand tunes on my keyboard aged 9.

Sega Mega Drive aged 10, Thorpe Park aged 11, boys in the park and my first kiss 12, drinking 13, weed 14, clubbing 15, McDonald's and trying a little UK speed (amphetamine not methamphetamine) aged 16.

Ecstasy and my first boyfriend 17, my Mini Mayfair 18, college and A*** 19. Shotting pills and making a wedge, having a catwalk model boyfriend aged 20, change from pills to cocaine along with the love of my life T***** 21. 

First education job 22. Cutting down cannabis consumption whilst being featured in two music videos at 23. Parties and TV, Film and modelling work for the local council, Eastenders, Holby, The Last Detective to name a few at 24. 

Ayia Napa and the 07/2005 bombings 25, my star speaking part on The Charlotte Church Show, splitting up with my boyfriend and buying my flat 26. 

Dating a premiership footballer whilst my cocaine addiction was swapped for crack and heroin 27. Drug addiction and dating a TV presenter aged 28. 

Weaning off heroin, being an extra in The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus aged 29. Caribbean breaks, trying to stop opiates, being referred to an ADHD specialist aged 30. 

Humans Race For Life Advert aged 30 having chosen not to renew my contract with my TV/Film agent due to my new busy job. 

Noisy, soul destroying Polish family of three renting the compact one bed flat meant for 1-2 people above me aged 31. House hunting and finding the house of my dreams 32. 

Intravenous drug use, removal from society, my decline. And I was back in the room. It felt like an hour had passed but in reality it was no more than 10 seconds.

My fingers were now white as I was holding on to the side with such force determined not to let myself fall.

I was going to die. Alone. T**** caught my gaze again. Displeased at my recklessness. I can't die. T**** saved my life. I owe him, I've got to be around for him. 

'I want to live God'

People! I needed to be in the view of people. People can save me.

I staggered to the front door stopping to quickly glance at my reflection in the mirror just outside the kitchen.

My complexion had turned from tanned and healthy to tomato red. Due to my use of opiates, which constrict your pupil (make them smaller), I didn't have massive Deer-About-To-Be-Hit-By-A-Lorry pupils. They were a little larger than average, but the wild, speed addict look didn't fail to grace me.

I quickly hurried to the front door and opened it an inch while I positioned myself in a stable sitting position. The draft from the shadowy front garden was much cooler and welcomed. It hit my red flushed cheeks like a cool splash of water.

My jaw was clenched unnaturally, as my heart thankfully began to slow.

'HUMMMMM THUD! THUD! THUD!'

I breathed deeply

'Thank you God, thank you. I don't want to die'

It was weird, unless I almost overdosed, I generally hated life and would answer 'yes' if asked do I want to die. When I fucked up with drugs and was knocking on Lucifer's door, death petrified me.

I gained composure as quickly as I lost it.

This must have happened easily 5 up to 10 times.

I don't want to die. I just don't want to live either.

'Meow, meow, meow'

A soft fur brushed against my leg. Almost as if he knew his cue was required.

I bent down and stroked his plush velvet fur.

'Come on then' I said getting up to feed my boy. 'Thanks' I murmured. I saved you as the runt no one wanted. You've saved me more than I can count.




Friday, 29 May 2015

❤️ 09th May 2015 - Journal



Well I'm broken. I don't know how the fuck they've threatened N.  I can think with a hefty prison sentence for reasons I'm not disclosing.

He won't even stand up and say your parents have interfered at mine which is why your now having psychosis at mine.

This means the outcome will be disappear or death.

No psychosis until my ADHD appointment = Live

No psychosis until rehab = live

After rehab lies = disappear 

Truth = make a new life 

I have a feeling I'll have to go as my family will be too ashamed of their actions to be honest.

❤️ 03rd May 2015 - Journal



Well surprise fucking surprise! I use crappy contaminated speed at N’s house, don't even get a decent hit, but Fat Cunt psychosis is present.

I think on Tuesday I'll do it. The community mental health team can tell me no Concerta first.

Then fuck you world 

❤️ May 2015 - WEB BLOG VERSION & YOUR VIEWS

Please excuse the mess, using an iPhone and it doesn't like the template page and formatting.

I'm aware the web version is a bit sku-wif (sp?!?).

Secondly please feel free to comment any areas for improvement, what you want to read more of, etc. 

I'm reworking some of the memory posts. I'd love to write as well as Memory's of A Heroin Head. Please check his blog, utterly amazing.

I'm touched at the number of readers I have.

God bless ya, blow some smoke in the air, inhale, inject one for me!

 

Wednesday, 27 May 2015

❤️ 02nd May 2015 - Journal - PART 2

Today I decided to open one item of post. It was a padded envelope, addressed to me at my parent's house.

It was only the missing package from Chemical Wire. Speed and benzos.




The speed, Isopropylphenidate was contaminated, the package tampered (see TAMPERED post). But yes I'm using it. Seeing as I'm tormented I may as well justify that. I find it super hard to sleep, especially when I'm in hell (parents house), so I'm praying to God they haven't tampered with the sleeping tablets like before. Please be genuine.

I've started researching rehabs. Not because I want to be clean at all, purely for the three months of freedom. I'm going to chose one as far away from them. No bedroom psychosis for me this time.

I'm a N's and although the gear is cut to high heaven I'm having bed psychosis. I swear I've seen a movement from under the bed in the Ribena bottle reflection. I've seen a weird shadow on N, opposite side from the gear. Almost like its Fat Cunt trying to distract me (my brother).

Go ahead bed psychosis. I'm knackered as you cut the gear too much. I can hear, faintly the Fat Cunts voice quietly repeating my monologue. He's rather good now and can predict 30% of what I'm going to say next. Simple, two syllable words of course. Typical neanderthal (Ne-And-Der-Fal). You're so fat, thick and ugly this confirms I'm the postman's daughter or adopted.

When I read 'Mum Can You Lend Me £20' or 'Heroin' the parents spend thousands bailing them out, rehab, detox, even money for gear, drug dealers, debts. They ensure the junkie child has clean fresh works, not sabotage them.

This could have been over a long time age if the family I used to love did the same. Why not put me in rehab? Why create a nightmare? I beg you read the books above. Maybe you'll learn how to help me, rather than kicking me in my metaphorical face when I'm already in the recovery position choking on my own vomit.










❤️ 02nd May 2015 - Journal - PART 1




Well having gone a whole week not injecting speed, I received no congratulations, well dones, or a reduction in the constant torment also known as psychosis.

I feel like a bad mummy. I've spent all my time at my friend's smoking crack and not with O**** and F**** my cat and rabbit.

But the lack of privacy drives me away from my parents house. I long with all my heart to go home.

Yes I know going from speed junkie to crack head isn't fabulous. Still scoring high on the wall of shame. But surely anything that stops me using drugs via injection has got to be a move in the right direction.

I had made three whole days clean, well bar benzos and weed. The last time I made three days stimulant free was 2013 on my week abroad.

By 24/03/15 after the 3 days I had the most unbelievable urge to go to the legal high shop to buy any old shit to bang up. But instead I got some crack and brown.

The most amazing thing is I had fresh works, the micro BD insulin needles. I was with two people who both used intravenously, but I only smoked mine!!!

Half restraint, half due to I'm struggling to flag a vein at the moment. I even chose to use just a syringe rectally over trying to hit a vein.

Whatever my speed was cut with has seriously fucked my veins up.

Anyway due to my good behaviour I'm getting, to be frank, truly fed up with the tormenting / psychosis.

I have my parents what they wanted. The last of my speed and my works.

I'm the child, and I made the first move, in the right direction, but do I get respite. Nope.

Ok the real crazy ass shit has stopped, but the lack of privacy makes me miserable beyond belief.


❤️ May 2015 - DO YOU NEED HELP?

If anyone reading is struggling with a drug addiction or knows someone who is, please feel free to post a comment or PM me with any questions or queries.

I may be able to help, providing support and advice.

I'm qualified in Counselling, and would hate to think someone out there is suffering like I have done, alone.

You're not alone.

I speak fluent Irish and American! I'm sure we'll have a right crac, which will be totally awesome.

I know it's hard to disclose to people when you have a drug addiction, I'm sure I'm not the only one who wishes all drugs counsellors were ex-addicts.

Don't suffer in silence and try to commit suicide like me.

Love Junkie J**