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Monday, 11 January 2010

Stand Up Motherfucker!

From last night I have been on strike. I have refused to work and won't do again until that little bastard (so far he has been nameless, as I've wanted to keep anon, so I'll just call him 'Jason') gives me my due. I am sick of this. I need to get money together to score my own gear - then I won't be dependent on that jerk and he will no longer have that particular hold over me - dust as a weapon. But I cannot do this while he extorts every last penny out of me, either directly, subtly or under pretence of gear that never arrives. He used to say he did not want me dealing because he feared for my liberty and life. Well fuck it, he had no fear for my liberty when using my place (which him and his mates have helped turn into a dirthole) as a stash place. I could be inside on a damned conspiracy charge. I accepted this as I was being 'looked after' then. I am not being so now. Not only that kind of stash but other contraband too. Fuck you, fuck you, are you proud of having reduced someone who was a relatively confident, intelligent woman into a dependent train wreck, are you Jason? You say you need 'space', to 'sort your life out' etc - bloody take a step back and see what you are doing to me in this process! I need to sort my life out too, but not at the expense of other people, especially not those who love me or who I claim to love to bits. I would not treat an animal like this! Don't think your efforts to 'break' me have thoroughly suceeded. I wanted a lover, friend, partner, not a brutal horrible pimp.

Nor did he have any fear for my life when it comes to the fact that his violent criminal buddies might take their grievances with him (if any develop, and they have done before) on his 'property'. He let these psychos know where I live. I don't feel safe in my own home anymore - and on top of this I am expected to bring strangers back and give him his take. He thinks I can be appeased by powder (when he has it), a few hugs, kind words and an occasional mercy fuck. He has another think coming.

I once thought I would not live to the age of thirty - I will be 37 next month and I am still here, however hard my attempts have been to drive myself to an early grave. I've decided I want to live - so I am not being driven to an early grave due to the efforts of a crummy man. I must drink and smoke less. Alcohol and tobacco are far more of a threat to my health than cocaine, pills, or methadone. The trouble is the stupid rotten State endorse the former while not the latter. A fellow blogger says she feels she is destined to live - so do I. I've lived through worse and I will live through this. I'd be better able to sort my life out did I not have such a traumatised personal life, and forced to live in a place where I live in fear of violence, and made to work under what has come to feel to me like bonded labour, or even worse, white slavery. I may be a submissive little whore, Jason, but there is only so much you can dish out and expect me to take. I think you know that now - I have made it clear I will be of no use to you dead or in a mental institution.

I have given that motherfucker the biggest male ego trip of his life. I am his property, he joked earlier about 'selling me' to a friend of his (another snowman) and did not see the irony of what he was saying til I pointed it out. He insisted he was 'taking me seriously' - hard to believe when his mate was making comments in the background and he was was making his usual cheeky jokes. My friends fear for my life and sanity. He said he was in a silly mood cos he was 'stoned' on pot - I nearly screamed because he knows that shit does not 'chill' me when I've no fucking coke. It does the opposite - it stresses me, makes me feel ill, more paranoid. I hate grass and don't get on with people under the influence - reasons why I'll go into more depth later. But for now - fact is that shit does not agree with me, period.

I managed to scrounge a few temazepam off a friend of mine, a former smackhead who gets them on prescription (fucking docs don't give me fuck all, yet a lot of other junkies get them prescribed). My doctor is gonna get hell from me - he should know that having the back up of something regular, prescribed is preferable than being 100% dependent on a highly expensive and illegal substance. I probably would have swallowed the temptation to take H during my downs when there no coke had not Jason threatened me with a beating if I did so. But he does not know about the meth, just the temazes. So his pimp hand aint that strong.

Using open extortion with threats of violence (due to the fact I 'owed' him for the white Xmas) was for him an 'emotional' decision. He hated to do that to 'sweetheart' - but the fact a violent criminal (the same one who knows my address now) was threatening him with violence or death had to make him let me know the 'gravity of the situation' - if I did not get my man his money, he'd be dead. I was a 'lifesaver' when I got it, the only rock he could depend on etc. He'd still have no car if not for me - despite his pleas of poverty he still managed to buy himself a new car with the proceeds of my earnings. I pointed this out when he called me a nag for expressing my concerns - without me he'd still have no car. He said considering my efforts I deserve the 'presence of his company' - like this man is the King, God. Men on coke are the worst for ego trips.

I had trauma last night. I told him the truth about how much money I had - I'd done well. I've been keeping money back to stop total poverty. I told him the truth in the hope it would pay - that I'd done well. I thought it would result in decency - it did not. I gave him his 'take' plus I paid upfront for a gram. Neither the gear nor his time were delivered as promised. I got an abrupt text saying he'd been 'let down, sorry, c u tomorrow'. I accepted his further excuses for failing to spend time with me, but was a mug enough to be bought off and left on hold again due to the promise of dust. That never happened either. I was ballistic. He eventually did speak to me (after him texting that my money was only what I owed him, he did not need my 'stress' etc) and agreed to talk things over today, and hopefully bring the fucking dust.

I was left alone in this dirthole again, tablets and strong beer calmed me. But I got stressed again, which made me into a nag again. Mr Psycho was just around the corner, my friend called to warn me he'd been at her daughters looking for her. He'd obtained dust else he would not have been out. I had fuck all and couldn't have the money to get it elsewhere cos Jason took it as payment in advance. When I had earlier complained of this fact he said it was 'his money' which was only his due from Xmas. Mf, what of all else I've given you? What of that car you and your mate now have that I've paid for, no debt just your so called take or commission.

I was frightened psycho would come back. Jason said he would text him to stay away. He said psycho and me are a 'bad mix' - he said what gives him the nerve to equate me with a knife wielding, violent psychotic criminal man with sociopathic tendencies and no feelings for anyone but himself. He hung up, I kept trying to call back he ignored me. I got through to his mate (who shares his bachelor pad) and was told to 'fuck off they were both sleeping'. They both had a new car thanks to me.

The pair of them would kill me if they knew off this blog cos I must not paint Jason into 'something he isn't'. Well, act like a brutal pimp and get spoken of like one, he gets portrayed as nothing he aint. A few months back I had no bad word to say against that man, he meant the world to me. I kept it bottled up til I was near a breakdown, the result of it is not only this blog but also the fact my friends hate him for how he is treating me.

Message is I am not anti drugs. Use responsibly. This blog may put anyone off cocaine use for life - or it may do the opposite and give it a dark romantic danger, attraction - Velvet Underground type charm as I play music too. Message I wanna say is this - if you are depressed and vulnerable (as I was when I resumed sniffing last year) don't do coke. Take it when your mental state is ok. Cos if it is not ok - you will end with more problems than you began with. I took it when I was vulnerable and trying to break from an abusive relationship. I hooked up with my dealer who had an enormous habit. Mine was small then, I kept it for weekends and small amounts in the weekend. My consumption caught up, or tried to. Not easy when you have a boyfriend saying he can 'maintain' and you can't - so you'd better start earning by selling your sexual labour to other men.

The result of sniffing when you are traumatised already is the train wreck you see now. I don't know what is worse for me - drugs, booze, or the men in my life. I'd be better indepedent - I've been earning good money and would be able to ask around and obtain my own sniff if not for him. Why do I let this happen, why do I let him do this?

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