Not of this blog, but of the sorry farce that was me and him. It is true this time, Snow Queen is single again for the first time in two years.
My boyfriend did his worst last night. He is in the cells as I write this, and Monday I leave my address. It was late at night, we had no more coke and he got pissed off when not being able to score any crack. He went into self pitying mode, saying he hated himself, wanted to die etc. I tried to comfort him, in return I got not gentle lovemaking but the aggressive sex he so loves. He hurt me by pushing me back too roughly, the usual hair pulling while I begged him to be gentle with me, I was feeling fragile and all. He then acted normal again, wanted to go to sleep, but I was too upset too. I made the mistake of complaining about his behaviour, not for the first time. I had told him I was reaching the end of my patience with the way he was being. My complaints were met first with dismissal, then with verbal abuse...'you are insane', 'you should feel lucky I wanted to shag you', 'you have no friends, everyone I know thinks you drag me down'...and 'you are a depressive bitch'. So said the man who half an hour earlier implicitly threatened suicide. A man who hates himself cannot love another person. He does not love me because he cannot. Only a professional can help him now....I gave him all the love I could and still failed. He rejected it. He thinks because he has been hurt by women before to abuse me is his right, and I unwittingly became a scapegoat for all that went wrong in his life. I told him whatever his problems he always had me....now he has nobody.
I have to help myself, I know that now. My arguing with him resulted in the worst beating of my life. His hands were in my mouth, I was choking. I had no choice but to scream for help and phone a neighbour. The police and ambulance came, he left in a taxi but phoned to apologise for the fourth time this week. The police took my phone, traced the call and what taxi he left in. To get the driver on his side he accused me of self harm, saying the lump on my head was caused by me banging my head against the wall. They found him and took him away in the end. He has denied everything, and right now I am too afraid to press charges due to the threats made on me before, that his thugs will be on to be me. He said last night he owns me and I was born to be a slave. But then he was my pimp after all, he was no regular boyfriend.
I sometimes dream of being happy and settled, having as I should by my age a career, husband, family. I rejected that and chose instead to be a self destructive druggie. I regret it now. Nothing wrong with recreational use, but addiction is hell. My boyfriend blames his violence on drink, drugs...or me.
But we are over. The man could have killed me, and if I took him back again he may do that. He has overstepped the mark. I have forgiven him verbal, financial, physical abuse til I have become a shadow of my former self. No more. I will be me again and rebuild my life. Once more I will be the girl who lived for my music, my nights out, my days strumming my acoustic on the beach. And when I am ready....I might find a man who deserves the love I have to give, not an abuser who takes it for weakness. My ex is a predator who spits on all who try to help him. I hope he gets the professional help he needs, but I can't deal with him anymore. He said last night he did not want to ever see me again, but phoned me in the taxi saying sorry before he was arrested. So I won't take that as gospel...I would not put it past him to try to come back, but the court may well impose an injunction as part of his bail conditions.
I am very sad. The man I fell in love with reappeared several months back when I was the only person who would help him. Where were your petty thugs then, Jason, the ones who think I am oh so bad for you? Did they feed you, give you a home, money and all else? Did they hell. I did, and my thanks is to be nearly killed for it.
Goodbye, and I hope you get the help you need. Before one day...you kill someone. I loved you but you were to blind to see or accept it. Attacking me for what you forced me into doing for a living by taking all I had. Rare was any loving sex I craved, more common was the abusive type, hair pulling, being called a slut etc that I tired of. Dom sub games are no fun when the sub has no boundaries, and I was allowed none. Goodbye my love,
I am still pissed off but hoping I can at least get high tonight if all goes to plan...thank hell. The joke is I could have done on Monday had I not been in such a state last week, blowing a load of cash on some shit skag that hardly worked, with thwarted my usual party on my payday. I would have had what I wanted and more....I had nothing. Nothing all week but depression and sadness. I will pull through, I've been in worse places before and come out, but it's not nice all the same. I hope I have a relatively ok weekend and don't spend it in tears. I deserve that much. I don't want to cry anymore, I am sick of it.
My new start last year never happened. He did my money on sluts and drugs that I saw about five percent of, and he ended up overdosing. He had a break, and the man I fell in love with returned, not the psycho. I walked the streets to support both out coke habits, later my smack one too. But the work has been doing me in. I will be in either rehab or a madhouse soon if I do not get my depression fixed. I need a sympathetic doctor and a cpn. But I can't make Mr split personality change....I lost money on Monday cos I got a beating over mentioning 'Samantha' in the morning, the bitch who cost me more money than I wish to mention. I would not be living like this if not for that. I have no clean clothes to wear hardly and have no motivation for anything. I have come to the point where I know I need help....and I aint got cocaine psychosis, I wish I did have but the joke is I can't even get high, only calm down or prevent opiate withdrawals.
This is not life. But then I did not choose life....I chose something else. This is the result. Oh well, at least I am not shooting up.
This is to let you know what I think of you, pretentious fake little slapper, not that you give a shit but I have to get it off my chest you waste of air space.
I am the person you once referred to, in your repulsive fake mockney accent, as ‘the stalker’. Who are you kidding, with your expensive education trying to talk like Jamie Oliver on helium? Not me, and probably not your husband whose face you spit in by shagging other men so you can obtain your drugs.
You are a piece of scum, and unbeknown to you I am living in hell thanks to the money that was mine that went up your ugly nose. Don’t take this as a threat, but was I lacking in self control you would have no nose left to snort anything with at all you ugly bitch.
I was no stalker. The money that went up your little orifice last year was mine, and the man who gave it you was my boyfriend, whatever he or that ugly hag Angela who you fell in love with at first sight told you. Just shows how fick you are, don’t it ,you with your stupid nickname. Who are you trying to impress on facebook? Not me and likely not others, save for the hag. Why don’t you two just get it on you dirty pair of slags.
You revolt me. The memory of your voice brings me close to violence, Minnie Mouse with a fake cockney voice. You waste oxygen by simply living. I hope one day you know what pain is, the pain you have contributed to bringing me.
The money and drugs that were mine, given you by my psychotic boyfriend who ended up in hospital with convulsions overdosing on my gear, not yours you scumbag. I hope one day your comfy life ends and you live the hell I now live. I hope your husband leaves you and sees you for what you are. And now my fool of a man has no drugs, where are you, you fake friend? He would once not let me say a word against you, even when I was the only one who visited him in hospital, you or the hag were not bothered as you had what you wanted, you pair of ugly slags. Was I totally out of control you would be even uglier than you are, and face it, Sam, you are no oil painting as it is. I got your hag mate on his phone that day and heard your voice in the background ‘is that the stalker’ on your foul high pitched mockney voice. You and that hag both…….rot in hell. Forever. I may be Catholic, but as I am deep in sin it is not in my heart to forgive you. The hag knew that was my money, my drugs, and she did not care. You are lower than a piece of cats shit, both of you.
I am still alive....I know because of my lifestyle some of my readers might have been concerned as to if anything had happened to me...I didn't know myself I had not updated my blog for so long. Shane (memoirs of a heroinhead) said a similiar thing some months back after not writing for ages, and wrote just to say he was still here so I am doing the same.
Can you believe that some outreach workers for women who sell sex told the coppers they were concerned they had NOT seen me on the streets and were worried? I then had a visit and said I was fine just a bit down...
But I haven't been well....just demotivated. I am only updating now because a friend of mine was good enough to give me his old laptop. I could not be bothered going to the cafe any more, but now I have a home connection once more I should be writing again. Neither the drugs...or him....have killed me. They won't.
I miss my drugs, I miss my music, I miss my parties.....but I am lost as to where I am going, and the fact I am writing again should be a good sign.....I'm a heroin addict again, and that shit makes me lazy. I prefer my uppers, I like to party not sit here gouching out, I won't make excuses but you can't buy cocaine in 10 pound deals, if you do it does hardly anything, and more to my shame I had been smoking crack....that stuff is a nightmare for me.
Business was bad and again, you can buy a 20 quid rock but not many people sell half grams of powder and if it is to do anything it must be good stuff.......it started when we could not get decent powder so I bought crack. Tablets normally deal with comedowns, and I had a small methadone habit for months....but I told myself I wouldn't get back on smack. I don't really like it that much....but the lack of tablets....and despite the fact I have genuine mental health issues that are obvious I have had it up to my eyeballs with uncaring healthcare professionals....who give me nothing. I can see I am making excuses... It is true, my drug use is not just recreational. Heroin is not a recreational drug, and I kidded myself to say my coke use was just that.....ok the party was good but it ended, I did not know when to stop.....I have not had a sniff for nearly a fortnight, I have been depressed as hell and the only way is to knock myself out with downers that are habit forming.
Please don't tell me to go to rehab. I've thought of it but I have not known one person it has worked for.....maybe it is their ideology? 12 step once a junkie always a junkie shit?
I want to get high but can get no tick....and I can't bring myself to do what I had been doing, although I am warming again to it and starting to feel anything is better than sitting around here in misery all day....anyway, sorry for being so negative, but just wanted you all to know I am still here....xx
I will write again very soon...thanks to my friend who was kind enough to give me his old pc....lazy junkie who rarely leaves the house, who was last years party girl...I have a few things to say that upset me to write about, but I will do...when ready. Happy new year readers x