Bloody Roses

I’m having a tough time with everything right now. My health problems have been numerous, I made a suicide attempt in the summer (which She Who Shall Not Be Named claimed I faked, then just huffed when I posted proof of my hospital admission which explicitly stated I had attempted suicide. And she still claims I’m a liar. Fucking christ) and I’m still using drugs.

In all honesty, they do make my life more bearable, I can do things on them and not feel so useless. Presses are the exception – I had 100 a week or so back, and they were gone after a few days and I couldn’t figure out how the hell they all disappeared…until I realised I blacked out and probably took the lot. Thank god these didn’t have fentynal in. I fell out with that plug anyway, the other guys charge more, but it’s the real stuff and that’s important in an age where fentynal is goddamn everywhere.

I know they are no good for me. But then what future do I have that’s worth fighting for here? I accept I’m a loser. I don’t accept I’m a bad person, as some people like to claim. I’ve done and said regrettable things, I own that completely.

I find myself thinking about death a lot again. I have no money for presents. I’m useless.

I’m writing this because my family just ignores me these days. I’m a junkie they tolerate. I do appreciate their frustration and anger about it, and my mum doesn’t have to provide me with housing. I’m not ungrateful, but it hurts that she can hear me cry at times and says nothing.