❤️ 18th July 2017 - iPhone Hacked - Letter To My Abusers

Oh well. I'll get sick and score heroin then. Sorted 

❤️ 19th July 2017 - iPhone Hacked - Letter To My Abusers

If you have stolen my post I'm getting more off Lee later

And I'm ordering so much more. I'm not even gonna bother looking for work. I'm just gonna use until I fucking die. My post wants to be there when I be home. You will so regret this. So regret this.

❤️ 2015 - Once Upon A Time - Overdose

My memory of this period is sketchy. My parents, furious and clueless as how to make their daughter stop injecting the addictive poison into her frail body, decided that luring her to believe she was mad, was the solution. They were wrong, it was clear to see, but stopping would also mean admittance they were the ones undertaking these cruel, cold, heartless tasks. It was not purely a figment of my over stimulated, distorted, psychotic, fragile mind.

I was addicted to the legal high ethylphenidate, and I chose to inject this poisonous substance. Ethylphenidate is the only drug which has had imprisoned me. Once I started using it, stopping seemed an impossible task. I suffered from ADHD, so whilst I still exhibited stimulant type effects, larger pupils, raised heart rate, hyper, trembling and speed up actions, the complete opposite happened in my head. It became a calm, tranquil, peaceful field of relaxation. It was like my and my body was oxymoronic. One slow and calm. One fast and hyper.

The more I used the more my parents created chaos, I already had chaos in my head thanks to my ADHD. So upon discovering ethylphenidate, also known as legal Ritalin an addiction was easily cemented. I can ensure calmness in some of my life. I can patch up some of the cracks in my life. At least I believed I could.

My drug use grew and naturally their erratic version of psychosis did. Therefore, so neglecting a night’s sleep was common place. This in turn made me manic. The constant pushing had shoved me to the cliffs edge. 

My parents had also sold a story to The Sun, unbeknown to me naturally. They encouraged people to stalk me. I was constantly followed, cars shinning their full beams, as they crawled past me at a breathtakingly slow pace of 15 miles per hour.

This encroachment of my personal privacy finally hit a stage where it bothered me. If I trekked through wooded areas, I even would hear the sound of helicopters tracking me when people couldn’t. They frequently sat positioned outside my bedroom window, constantly monitoring me. 

I truly like my own company. I love nothing more than walking through a wooded nature area, just me and the squirrels, birds, mice and ducks. Watching bees dip in and out of flowers, the butterfly's cautiously landing on a plant's leaf.

So upon becoming more aware I was being mass stalked was initially distressing. I had reached a level of notoriety, this is staggeringly clear. It had no positive repercussions, my stature for fame by taking drugs. It only encouraged me to find a hidden corner and inject myself in public.

Ethylphenidate’s, has a short half life. This is the time it takes to remove itself from your blood. So taking 0.5mg at 1pm, would reduce to 0.25mg at 2pm, 0.125 at 3pm and so on.

This, combined with my high tolerance meant a hit lasted only one maybe two hours. I decided if I was to endure the negative effects of psychosis, regardless to if they were fake, I was also indulging in the pleasure of using drugs.

Finally, I reached my tipping point. It was a fresh, spring day. The dark pastel blue hue of the sky was contrasted by the cotton candy white fluffy clouds, scattered in the sky. Due to the area in which I live having a lot of grassed area, the dewy smell of fresh cut grass wafted through the breeze, and the cold sharpness of winter had finally gone from it, as it swiped past my face.

This day I had decided enough was enough. I had a simple solution to the misery enforced upon me. Suicide. Not that I thought such a dramatic outcome would be necessary. If so, they were all murderers. If I died my blood was on all their hands. Angry, at the removal of my basic human rights I had calmed myself with the simple solution. I would simply pop a pill each time I saw a stalker.

I had Etizolam, similar to 10mgs of diazepam. This was a sedative and would cause unconsciousness. I also had risperidone. This was an antipsychotic causing tachycardia, or a heart attack.

Upon leaving my house, my street sprung into action. Like the film and TV sets I had frequented in the past. The people with little or no acting skills gingerly walked past me, eyeing me cautiously. 

I noticed a couple follow me, who I instantly recognised. It was a ginger male who looked quiet handsome, and a very plain Jane accompany him. He was too good looking for the plain Jane, which is why I remembered the couple. Their oddness was imprinted upon my ADHD brain. Frequently seen faces are instantly recognised by its hyper requirement to keep ludicrously busy.

This couple had been spotted too frequently for strangers. At least fpur times in two days.

When final assurance has reached, I waited for them to turn again.

'That’s two’ I said to myself while simultaneously popping two Risperidone, which  my mouth. Aware of the taccacardia and possible heart attack I also popped half an Etizolam, a legal benzo similar to 10mgs Diazepam. I smiled at them upon swallowing them with the Evian I had packed in my bag to bang up with.

I was sure they'd contact my dad and inform him of my behaviour and my recognition by strangers would stop. I was wrong, the more strangers I recognised the more miserable and depressed I sunk.

Now, I’m aware I over react with regards to people paying attention towards me due to my fame. I am the UK's most famous crack head after Amy Winehouse (RIP), so in 20 minutes, not even reaching Tooting Broadway, I had consumed 9 Risperidone and 3 Etizolam.

I felt a wave of dizziness and decided to jump off the bus at Amen Corner and a wave of head rush faintness soared through my head. I stumbled towards a door way which lead towards some private flats wanting a quiet area to pass out. I stumbled through the gate, crashing onto the floor.

My stumble only alerted a tenant who promptly kicked me out. The site of a skinny junkie, clearly intoxicated, wasn't one to check whether they needed assistance. The joys of looking like a junkie no doubt influenced his decision. There was no attempt to help me, although it was clear I was very intoxicated upon my departure.

Only 3-4 minutes had passed from departing the bus, but I was now staggering, zig-zagging from left to right on the pavement. This is when I had my ‘oh shit’ moment. An 'oh shit' moment is the moment you realise you've taken too much and are in danger of dying.

A black mist encroached upon my peripheral vision. Surely this cruel behaviour would stop now I’ve overdosed? My mind wandered as I slowly lost more and more of my coordination. Surely I can get back to normal with only some damage limitation to rectify? 

I was very intoxicated and fell into Dominos Pizza where I gave the young guy left to manage the shop a heart attack asking for an ambulance.  Clearly he had not called the emergency services before. I managed to manoeuvre to a red metal bench and promptly slumped on to it.

The emergency crew appeared in what appeared to be a few seconds, but realistically around 10 minutes.

I was practically unconscious and only remember the sharp pinches to my chest in order to get information from me. This caused so much pain I was dragged from my cosy slumber enabling them a few seconds to force information out of me.

Being psychic I do remember feelings and I felt anger. I had wasted their time. They could be helping someone who didn’t chose to be in their need. Panic was the feeling that radiated from the shop assistant.

‘What have you taken?!’

‘Rissssppp, rissp, ree’

‘What have you taken?!!!!’

PINCH

‘Risperidone’

‘How many?!’

‘Ner’

‘How many?!!’

PINCH

‘Nine’

‘Right were going to need the blues for this one’

Yay, 'the Blues' meant the blue sirens, I disappointedly didn’t get them with my accidental overdose.

This is when I completely passed out, giving into the black mist and sleepy hug luring me to St. Peter's Gate.

I came around in resus. Having previously been in A&E, Critical Care and Urgent Care. This meant the Heart Attack ward is the only one I haven’t been on.

I have little memory of resus bar seeing one of the nurses who treated me previously on both times I had cellulitis. She also came to see me during my first accidental OD. 

‘I saw your name come up, I thought I’d come to see you’

‘Hi’ I managed.

Pity radiated from her eyes. Seeing me physically well but having to tell the nurses which vein would be ok for a cannula, when I had cellulitis; and then fading when I had OD by accident, she had a unique view of my downfall.

‘Take care, seriously’ she stroked my hand. I was still very much out of it and passed out.

Apart from the kindness that radiated from her, I only felt anger, frustration and disapproval from the other nurses I have a hazy memory of visiting my cubical. I was a time wasting druggie, I did this to myself. Sympathy was in short supply.

By 10pm at night I was coming around and noticed I had been given a guardian who was gently trying to wake me. I was told I needed to move bed, and duly put my trainers on and collected my belongings. She was West Indian and spoke with a soft voice. She seemed genuinely kind and the feeling radiated from her as she spoke.

She accompanied me to a bed in the A&E ward, the only one sectioned off with walls and a door not curtain. It was in the middle of the ward and the other beds lined both walls in front of me. In the middle was the nurse's station and was a constant bustle of busy activity, blinking computers and important looking doctors.

I crashed back to sleep and didn’t arise until 10am next day. When I did wake I was still groggy, but this was now due to me withdrawing from my buprenorphine. I had taken my last tablet at Sunday, 7pm; missed Monday as I was unconscious, and now it was Tuesday. I felt the ache start in my legs, my calves specifically. My eyes watered and I constantly yawned. I turned to my guardian.

‘I take buprenorphine, 6mgs. You need to ask a doctor as A&E doesn’t stock it’

‘I’m sure they do, when the nurse does her round I’ll ask her’

‘No they don’t, they’ve refused me it before’

‘Let’s wait for the nurse’

‘I can’t wait, I didn’t take it yesterday, they don’t have it in case people just blag it in A&E for it. It’s a high dose, near 1000mgs morphine. The nurses are scared to deal with such high doses of opiates'

'Ok I’ll ask’ she replied a little hasty and sharp.

10 minutes later she returned with the news the pharmacist would be providing me the meds on his round. When in with my finger and cellulitis they had given me 100mgs of Tramadol which is about 80mgs of morphine, and they were shocked when I demanded the buprenorphine as I was still withdrawing. Their refusal was met with

‘I’m used to taking diamorphine intravenously so 2 Tramadol won’t do shit really will it?’

My guardian explained I was to see a doctor and a social worker and a little stay in hospital would benefit me. I knew this meant Sectioning me. I didn't really process the information, my head still woozy, spinning me into a daze. I smiled, finding this rather funny. Me, I had a social worker. A psychiatric nurse, a psychiatrist and a counsellor.

Soon the feeling of sacredness crept into my thoughts. I was still drowsy as I was still without my meds. I easily fell back to sleep until midday when the doctor and social worker hurried into the room and began the Sectioning process.

Clearly I was still intoxicated from the overdose a wicked smile spread across my face as they entered. I like being the best. I always score super high on ADHD tests, so like having ADHD. I was now scoring super high on the crazy meter. This only encouraged me to wind them up. I had to be the best crazy person.

It’s like a uncontrollable urge I cannot control. Don’t touch wet paint. I touch. Now the prize was a golden ticket to Springfield.

‘Why did you take an overdose J****’

‘Coz, my parents’ are sick fucks’ I slurred. A concerning look ricocheted from the social worker to the doctor and finally to the guardian.

A form began to be completed in a scribbled hurry. I could sense a feeling of worry and it was emitted from both the Doctor, social worker and guardian. The Doctor scowled, deep lines erupting across his forehead.

‘What do you mean your parents, do you still think they’re filming you?’

‘Yes but they’re having me mass stalked’

More worried looks

‘So each time I saw a stalker I popped a pill’

‘What pills?’

‘Risperidone and Etizolam’

‘Are you prescribed the Risperidone?’

‘No’

‘Where did you get the tablets?’

‘A friend, I’ve got loads’

‘What’s Etizolam?’

‘A legal benzo. Initially similar to diazepam but your tolerance builds more quicker’

‘So you think people are following you?’

‘No, I think hundreds of people are stalking me, taking my photo and texting my location’

The more concerned they got the more I was enjoying this. A smile spread across my face like I was the Cheshire Cat from hell.

The social worker scratched her worried brow, as if I was causing her to suffer from a headache.

‘So what others are filming you, do you still believe this?'

‘Yes and they’re creating psychosis, they’re sick, I hate them’

‘I think a little stay in hospital will benefit you’. The doctor replied

‘They move my floor boards, flap my letter box, unless there’s a dirty tissue in there, ye..’

‘Right we’ll arrange transport, Queen Mary’s has a bed’

The social worker cut me off and spoke to my guardian. As if I was invisible, a child or someone lacking mental capacity.

‘How long will it take?’ she replied

‘Oh a couple of hours, we’re really stretched’

‘Ok thanks’

‘J**** an ambulance will take you to Queen Mary’s just for a few days, ok?'

I didn’t replied, just carried on with my evil composure.

‘Did you want to die?’

‘I don’t know. Obviously not as I’m here. It was a cry for help'

This sentence alone clearly shows my mental stability but the fuse had already blown. Acting mature meant shit now. Both the doctor and social worker matched away as quickly as they arrived. Only when they left did scared J**** appear. I was officially imprissoned. I turned to the guardian now a little scared.

‘Will I be locked up?’

‘No you’ll be free on a ward’

‘Can I leave the ward?’

‘No deary’

‘How long for?’

‘Not long deary’

‘What like a week?'

‘Maybe two’

Panic was beginning to stir

‘What’s the maximum?’

’28 days’

‘Shortest?’

‘3-5 days’

A flash of inspiration over came me pushing the quickly growing panic. 'What would happen if I walked out of here now?’

‘The security guards would come. They’d stop you. I certainly can’t’. The guardian was elderly, certainly lacked the ability to move with any speed.

The thought of making a run for it began to consume me. My OCD voice was up for it. I’d be crazy and on the run. But I needed my buprenorphine as I was seriously withdrawing. No longer was sleep possible and the sweats were beginning. Wanting to relieve myself I put my trainers on to use the bathroom. 

'Run, run, run' my head repeated but I duly returned to my bay.

2pm came and I still had no medication. Boots was so close and would remove all this anxiety, sweats and cramps. The want to leave was getting greater. Each minute of suffering that passed, was a minute of the desire to walk out growing. My requests for my medication were getting repetitively ignored. Opiate withdrawal will make suffers do anything to rid themselves of the pain.

Do it, go on. Within 30 minutes I’d be feeling ok.

‘I need my meds’

I couldn't wait anymore, I was boiling

With the desire to leave.

‘You have to wait’

‘I’m fed up with waiting. My chemist is down the road’

Fireworks' exploded in my head. Suddenly my legs began to move. I got up and put my trainers. Then my arms which was followed by me quickly putting my jacket on. 

Snatched my bag and quickly darted for the automatic door. Only doctors and staff could open the door, by a swipe card but the Gods were with me. It just so happened to being in the open position for the newest patients to enter on an ambulance bed. This gave me a good 10 second gap to dart through.

I shoved pass them, head down and quickly sailed through the next sliding doors. I was free. My chest pounded as my fight or flight adrenalin surged throughout my body. I was clearly flighting. Walking with what the police described as intent I reached the bus stop and within minutes I was on a bus.

I headed to the chemist and then home. You could only be removed from your home if you were out of control or neglecting yourself.

I was free.

#Itsnotaboutthedrugs @Gemma_Stalked

❤️ 12th July 2016 - iPad Hacked - Letter To My Abusers

This is why I'm going to kill myself 👍🏽 you're sick. You have NO reason to do this. I cannot believe you want me to believe this was a figment of my imagination, yet you're doing this now.

Having your daughter (I was once loved by you. You would do anything to protect me. Now you've killed me and dug my grave already) not just believe she had drug induced psychosis, you want me to think I'm proper crazy! Mentally insane. Coz this happens

an awful lot of the time when I'm fucking sober these days. 

I told you, you were pushing me over the edge when I was kept awake when I had my Ritalin a few weeks ago.

As it goes, I had a 1.5'day break from my Ritalin over this weekend so I'm not especially tired.

Even if you do decide you want your daughter to live and do tell the truth, I doubt that I have a life in the UK. And I don't think I'll ever have kids. What if I turn on them when they've fucked up in life. What if I

Publicly ruin their lives/careers and do nasty evil things to them. What if I turn out as nasty as you? Makes sense to stop the genes spreading doesn't it.

And I thought I was a daddy's girl. 😆😆😆😆😆😆😆😆😆😆😆😆

I thought my daddy would always go out of his way to love and protect me. But instead he's turned out to be the nastiest, vile, evil sicko father who's tormenting and abuse (coz let's be honest... What you did far surpassed 'psychosis'. You pushed it way too far. This isn't tough love. This just shows what a nasty, horrible, person you truly are).

I can only conclude you want me dead. You're fully aware when I did this last week you were pushing me to suicide.

You still do damn nasty things like trying to get my spliff wet, and when I realised you were snooping on my calls and messages on my iPad and changed my password to say you were cunts, you have the cheek to get pissed off and change it again so I lose everything on my iPad.

How would you feel if you wrote a diary on your laptop and I logged on every time you were out and read your diary and read your private emails and messages.

The only way I'm going to live is if I get to tell the truth. And that requires you being honest. That way I can earn money and then retain to be a drugs counsellor. I would like to have not just a job, but a career. I don't think education is a likely option anymore thanks to you.

You could at least let me have a chance to tell the truth and rebuild my career. 

But you won't. Coz you want to take your dirty little secret to your graves.

But don't worry. Before I die i will send my autobiography to every media outlet I can find. Plus along with copies of my suicide notes. In will make sure your reputations get fucked. Just like you did to me. And because I'm dead, I know it'll get published!!

PARENTS WHO ENCOURAGED THEIR DAUGHTER TO BE MASS

STALKED, ALSO TORMENTED HER TO COMMIT SUICIDE 

• contrary to The Sun article she was not addicted to crack and heroin, this was a lie, she was abusing the legal high ethylphenidate, which is legal Ritalin
• she was single female living alone, yet her family, including father who works for the metropolitan police regularly would break and enter to her home and steal items
• Her father also drove with a fake number plate in an attempt to hide his vehicle
• Whole family ganged up on her when she needed help, including her brothers girlfriend 
• The results of their evil behaviour resulted in Jemma (I'm changing my name) having chronic anxiety, paranoia, and concerns about the security of her home

EVERYTHING, EVERY SINGLE THING. You'll go down as the worst parents in history especially as will include me practically begging with you to be honest or else there was no way out but my suicide. Everyone will know should you have been honest my death could have been prevented.

And I'll give them mdart's contact details to prove I wasn't on crack and heroin when you told your bullshit story which ultimately ensured I would commit suicide. 

I can't wait to die, and get the truth out!!! It's the only way I'm going to clear my name.

Killing myself. (Plus I can't retire as

I've been written out of your will, do Daniel get a million pounds that's in this property, plus all your stuff, even the stuff I bought for you, which he'll only chuck, but rather  then let me have keep sakes it's better to go to Daniels bin, but as its from me it's worth shit. Anyway, I have no partner to help me and I have no plans to be working until I die)

But oh don't you worry, I'll make sure EVERYONE knows every little nasty thing you did to your daughter, your sister.

3.30am dad goes downstairs with someone or to speak to. Someone. I go but stupidly don't check toilet 

Leave door open

4am I'm standing by door. Someone in conservatory is making lights flash my eyes. Put sunglasses on and they make it flash darker. Can still hear commentary  

5.25am dad comes down and shuts my door and goes downstairs. I can hear talking. Could be nice but dim

6.15am after coming up and telling mum 'she's awake!!' Dad leaves to Work super early with who ever he had in his room to torment me.

Why are they doing this to me? - they clearly want you dead. That old man was warned this would be the outcome but he

Torments you when your Ritalin keeps you awake. When you took nytol.

why are they so nasty. Not long and I'll be free (and dead but being free from this nasty privacy denying life is better than living with them tormenting me for the rest of my life) role on 2017.

I CAN'T WAIT TO DIE 💗💖💗💖💗

❤️ 14th June 2016 - iPad Hacked - Letter To My Abusers

Seriously fuck off you cunt.

I don't take my medication over the weekends so I don't grow tolerant and look to take speed (legal / illegal) so when I take it on Mondays I struggle to fucking sleep.

You pathetic, privacy soul destroying twat.

Do you think I've been on the crack pipe all night or something. I've been sat here going fucking spaz that I can't sleep.

I'm on a high fucking dose of Ritalin. Get over it.

You doing this shit drives me to drugs.

Last week you did it over three fucking nytol. 

If I even suspect you're snooping, or doing your bullshit psychosis act, I tell you what, if it happens again, I will go straight out and buy some legal speed and start banging up again.

Why not??? It's what you fucking expect. 

Don't expect a card on Sunday, you'll be fucking lucky to get a bottle of brandy. Which I'm only buying coz I HAVE to.  Not cos I love you

Why don't I love you? THIS US WHY! Sick of you doubting me.

Go have a heart attack. Please 

❤️ 14th December 2014 - Dear R***

Why

Today I have decided I know longer have a family. Today you broke my heart. 

My house has had over £1,000 worth of damage.

My cooker and washing machine no longer work. My fridge freezer is infected.

My Louis Vuitton partially destroyed and another £500 worth of clothes either destroyed or damaged. My car lighter and air vents.

I'm certainly not stupid. My IQ is 150. Even when I was high on drugs, whilst I may have exaggerated my sights, sounds, touch and scents; one certainly didn't cause this damage myself. 

THERE ARE FUCKING MITES! I HAVE TAKEN UNWASHED CLOTHES AND BEING PLACED IN A WARMER ROOM AND / OR WORN HAS ENABLED THEM TO SPRING INTO ACTION.

But to believe that, you would have to believe me.  Clearly, you have never done this, which leads me to believe when agreeing with me previously,  your agreement was only made under the pretence of quietening your 'mad' daughter down. 

That saddens me, as I thought you honestly believed me. I can no longer trust you, my father's theft of my keys has shattered that (and his actions have resulted in a real dislike for this man. You now have the title of being first parent, in my whole life, I truly hate.

I have something that is living on my body. It's the same thing that gets into the seams of my clothes and bags. The same thing that was in between the acrylic bricks I have erected.  

I have air bubbles each time I poo. I had it every time I pooed in hospital too. When submerged under water I have bubbles from my hands and feet. When taking a bath I also have them from my down below area. During my hospital stay this was clearly reducing as I was frequently bathing. 

During my frequent bathing, for a body which was in clean clothes and bathed daily, there was an incredible amount of 'grub'. Black dots, black patches, barely visible white 'worms' a millimetre in length. Once I saw what appeared to be an incredibly large white worm.

This has improved to the point of opposed to having 100s of air bubbles from my poo, I only had 2-3.

Yesterday, I spend the whole day with sharp eclectic pings, especially around my feet. When I came home, aware the shoes may not have been washed, I wanted to wash them, expecting the shoes to be infected. Sure enough the bubbles flowed from between my toes and the hard skins on the soles of my feet. It was the I discovered they were visible on my clothes. Using an appropriate product, I wiped over my skin and pulled off any rising 'mites' from under my skin. Looking like small freckles until risen. I collected them on the square of toilet tissue in a desperate endeavour that evidence would results in belief. 

However you think I've just plucked the black towels like a mad man. The once perfect seams of my bra are now frayed. Just like the seams of my Louis Vuitton.

Today your insistence of this being fabricated, thus me being mentally ill, means, I am glad of your disbelief. By the time you realise I am / was telling the truth, you'll be swamped with my imaginary bugs. Your appliances crawling, before breaking.

NOTHING IS TO BE RETURNED TO MY HOUSE UNTIL ITS BEEN CLEANED. IT MUST ALSO BE WRAPPED IMMEDIATELY.

My intention is to now sell the house, and move far far away. Once sold you can have the money you have spend returned with interest. 

I will video my clean hands, being wiped with a bathroom wipe and black marks then appearing. I will videos the air bubbles when immersed in water. 

❤️ 10th September 2017 - Journal

Well on Friday we finished up the coke I had ordered and N purchased more, as well as some MDMA. We banged up the coke (with N clearly saving himself some extra for later... as he banged up MD and we never bang up MD, we do it rectally).

Anyway I wa finally out of sleeping tablets, son naturally had rebound insomnia. The next day after MD you generally feel like shit. Add no sleep and I felt horrendous. 

I saw my fathers work van around 4.30pm after all my viewings (which I'm sure went terrible due to my exhaustion and the house not being perfect), and I finally crashed on the sofa.

When I woke later I was clearly not being watched, so they obviously buggered off. The extension on the Asian family's house had the light off too, which is where I expect they hide out. 

Anyway, got some sleepers and had a great nights sleep. 

Woke up this morning and noticed I was achy... and no matter how much Ritalin I took, I couldn't wake up. Stayed crashed on the sofa.. then at 2pm I remembered I only took 2mgs of subbie yesterday rather than 4mgs (we have banged up b recently, so my tolerance is high again). Noticed I was gettting hot sweats too... so went and took some.

I'm awake now! Yay! 

But most of the day has been wasted... we needed to go shopping. 

I hate the way opiate withdrawal manifests so differently from day to day. It never starts the same. You might get the shits one day, anxiety the next and like today, you might just feel tired.

I would be on a lower amount if it wasn't for all the anxiety my family cause. I know I end up taking more because my anxiety and I assume I need it.

Although last week was bad drugs wise, I wasn't abused too much. Bar them making me and Nie paranoid, I was generally left alone. 

Fingers crossed I can get one of those jobs. Then I can move to a new property in the commuter belt around London.

Otherwise role on my shares being sold and the money in my account. 

Right, I need to go... must get ready and go bleeding shopping.

Jay x

❤️ 04th September 2017 - 09th September 2017 - Journal

Last week was bad! We used every day Monday to Friday. N brought crack home Monday and Tuesday, I bought coke Wednesday and then Thursday both the gram I ordered to N’s and and replacement half a gram (which was sent here! Fucking lucky to get it!!) arrived.

I think the only reason the half arrived here is the bloke on Dream Market said he would resend and I replied saying to send it to N’s address. He clearly had sent it before I sent that message. So my family, expecting it at N’s, didn't intercept my post here.

I also had 3 job interviews... if I don't get one, surely I'm famous again and everyone knows I'm a drug abuser. I definitely got that feeling in my last interview on Thursday.

I'm gutted. That means there's no other option other than moving to Plymouth. I can't start again in London. That's been taken away from me.

Anyway, everything happens for a reason. 

Famous J x

❤️ 31st August 2017 - Journal

Well today was truly a day from hell. Ordered some mephedrone just to try it. Well it certainly wasn't as good as the reviews. 

It was supposed to be an amazing mix of a long lasting  

cocaine and ecstasy.

It was nothing but speed.

And then my parents started their fun and games. And what makes this really sad, is N started doing things to make it all worse. I kept locking the doors and windows. Then I'd find the door open but pushed closed so it didn't look like it was open, but looked like it was shut. Then I found him in the bedroom with my big window open. Then when I suggested we stayed in in the front room, he stopped by the kitchen and made a face which appeared to be a person. We went out for a fag and I starts to started walk. He was insistent on going petrol station and when I agreed he immediately went to pull out this mobile, to wha I assume was to text someone. At the petrol he went over to some car and that I It..,. I bolted.

During the day we saw about 7 people in Power Ranger costumes which were shiny gold. I saw a black dude and said 'yes black dude!'and he fist pumped me back. Then there was the yellow 'alien type people in costumes who stool beneath some yellow leaves in my view. Ran upstairs and they had vanished. The extent my family have gone to, to make me feel I'm mad, destroys me. I never get this anywhere but their house and my house, plus the surrounding areas. I've banged up 10 times what I used last night in other areas and I've had NO psychosis. 

Then last night I ran off crying and say loads of people with lights. I made sure I told them the truth.!

❤️ 30th August 2017 - Journal

Ok, so my mephedrone arrived and me and N banged it up. It was ok.... until about midnight - 1am.

Then it switched.

All of a sudden I felt my parents playing 'let's pretend to get Jay sectioned again. This is my biggest fear and I would definitely overdose if I was forced to go back into a mental hospital

What made it worse was N started playing along with this stupid games.

Hey shut my front door so it looked as though it was closed and locked with the ironing board placed in front of it to stop any intruders coming in, however the two had not even been shut, so could be pushed open from the outside. Also the back door is open and my bedroom window wide open also in the back doors open and my bedroom window wide open.

I asked him to get my charger and clearly he wanted me upstairs because I'm lazy and I didn't want to go so he went upstairs and glanced in the kitchen before he went upstairs to see if he was giving someone a look

And that's all I can say means to an end I can do I needed to get from him online so when I've moved doesn't really matter