Welcome to the new readers and thank you sooo much for the heartwarming emails.
My email is firstname.lastname@example.org and if you want to email me and just shoot the breeze together , then please just drop me a line. The only thing that everybody can give is love.
A recap for the new readers as my traffic has just quadripplazillioned ( copyright )
My name is Heroine Girl, mid twenties , sassy and very open about life and the adventures I have undergone in my life. Lucky for me, I have had a colourful life and if you read my blog as much as you can , you will see I talk in real time and then like memoir time.
Kinda like in the movies with the screen goes wavy flashback...
********************* ( thats what I do) *************************
This is cos I used to be a heroin addict. Now don't go all pity party or cluck cluck of the tounge. I share my story with you in privacy, even if you haven't ever used drugs or anything, I have a lot of readers who just read along about girly stuff/ boys that cheat/ parents/ fucked up families/the world in general. Then there is the sex work.
So in other words, there may be stuff here that may offend. But it is not my intention to be in detention, forever.
A huge thank you to Belle for the shoutout on my site. You made it all worthwhile.
Let's travel back *lights*
I remember one night The Ex and I took my ryhpnol. For the unhardened, this is the date rape drug , "as in slip someone a roofie". Probably a testament to my opiate tolerance, I could easily have three , like boiled sweets on top of a hearty dose of heroin. The tablets were not easily doled out by Doctor's so it required a fair amount of doctor shopping, traipsing through the stick streets of the city sick and bewildered , in order to obtain any kind of medicinal relief.
The ironic thing was you got all G'd to stop and then you would just "try" the dealer one more time. Then the next thing you now, your in the bedroom , with a lighter and spoon and your kicking back and thinking " Fuck what a hard Day". Which is where we begun this story.
It was intended for detox. We had two tablets each and lay down on the bed. It was late and the room was filled with blue moonlight and the rest of the world was silent. Previously, I shot some rock heroin on top of it, and I remember the ceiling fan whirring around, in seemingly slow motion. I felt The Ex's hands upon my breasts, first through my shirt, then snaking through my T-shirt and into the warmth of my bra. I remember untended fires of desire slowly burning as our lips met in a fleeting awkward kiss. I had forgotten how it was to kiss someone, I had been fucking too many strangers.
As I closed my eyes, hot tears slid down my cheeks. It was beautiful; to be touched in a way I wanted to be. I was still wanted, I was still desirable.
"Lay down beside me. Look into my eyes and tell me what your seeing."
" Won’t you feel my heart sigh and tell me what your feeling."
We knew we were hurting each other as much as we where hurting ourselves within.
Yet, it felt so foreign. It felt like the drug was in our hearts, our conscience and now in between us in our bed. I squeezed my eyes shut, to try and block the images of the naked men and things I did to them and tried ever so hard to lose myself in the same process. I felt my lover's hands all over me and it felt so young, so carefree and so healthy.
We made precious young love. I felt not dirty, yet it is the best sex we where to ever have. It was the last time we were intimate. He chose me and I chose him. This was our lot.
I remember the next morning feeling slightly naughty. I was still a young girl - 2o to be exact and I had sex last night. I was glowing. When we woke up, The Ex looked as proud as a lion, and asked me repeatedly if I had really, really "you know". "Come ? " I volunteered.
" Of course, " I lied. Orgasms were one of the first things I had lost in reality, a long time ago though.
Sometimes though a hug was what you really needed. I really needed to feel safe, even inside my own skin. I remember we couldn’t afford the pill and I remember The Ex had ejaculated inside me. Over breakfast shot of heroin we promised to go to the doctor and get a morning after pill. There was no way I would ever contemplate having a child. We could barely manage to survive ourselves. Justin squeezed my hand and told me we would go and see the doctor tomorrow. We never did. There was always one more job to do, one more dealer to call, one more shot to get. You have 55 Missed Calls. You have 6592 missed opportunities.
I was one month late. I was slightly worried. One more week. Two more weeks. Where in gods name was my period !!! . Had they just stopped from all the wieght I had lost?
I was skeletal now, and when The Stepmother saw me she cried openly. I just stood there awkwardly like a single woman at a baby shower.
Maybe if I was her own blood she would here the voice within.
I'm in here mummy ... I'm in here ? . Come and get please? Save me from myself.
There was no answer. In this moment - I was alone. But I wasn't scared - yet.
It was like my soul was pounding on my glass casing. My Father could not bare to even look into my path. My cheeks where sunken , my eyes vague yet all decieving. I was on the constant denial. Bullshit on Bullshit. He couldn't see past my trackmarks to see my promise.
Or so I thought back then. That's part of the sickness. You become so primal and everything slows down. It becomes survival, your breath might as well come out of the eye of the needle.
I remember shaking and alone, my hair knotted and feet barefoot walking into the local supermarket. I had neglected myself so badly I had a huge matted knot at the back of my hair, the only way I could disguise it was to keep my hair in a bun. I could sense people looking at me, smelling my desperation to blend in , the faccarde falling away flawlessly. There was nowhere to hide.
Amongst stares from the shoppers, I walked down the toiletries aisle, and discreetly picked up a pregnancy box. I walked down the next aisle and pulled out the indicator stick and slipped it into my purse. I shoved the empty box behind some cereal boxes. This way even I was caught shoplifting, they would not find the test. It was the only way. I had to know.
I walked into the fruit section, and picked up a mandarin. I paid for it and left the store. I remembered where some public toilets were that I found one day when we where looking for somewhere closer to home to shoot up.
I entered the cubicle and held the indicator expectantly between my legs. My hand was shaking so much I was worried I would drop it into the toilet. When I was using at my peak, I would sometimes urinate once every two days. I had planned today to keep drinking so my bladder would work. Eventually, I was relaxed enough to put the stick under the stream. I didn’t have the box with me. But I knew the basics from having to do this with a girlfriend. I opened the toilet door and propped the test against the sink whilst I splashed my face with cold water. I couldn’t bare the shame of a doctor telling me I was pregnant, and feel the shame of saying that using was my main priority, not having a child. That wasn’t correct. It wasn’t who I was. Was it ?
At that precise moment, a plump and jovial woman entered the toilet with her five year old daughter. She ushered her child into the toilet and bustled around for a few invasive minutes before resting her warm and watery eyes on a pale white face. Mine.
" Are you ok ?" she asked me. I remember my eyes filling with tears and I waved her away. It hurt too much for anyone to care anymore. I went to speak but it just choked there you know? Like when your watching a sad movie but you don't want to cry because it shouldn't be sad - but for some reason it just is. For some strange reason , the moment chooses you and there is nothing you can do, but let it come. And come it did, her eyes drifted across to the pregnancy stick leaning on the bench. "Don’t cry lovely" she fussed. “It’s ok, you'll be fine your going to have a baby". I saw the two green lines appear before my disbelieving eyes, right in front of me. "Congratulations" she said squeezing me into her ample bosoms, I remember crying in her arms for a long time, soaking her blouse and just letting it allllllllllll out.
I walked along the beach in the windy rain. No one cared for me and now I didn’t care for another human life. How would I work? How could I afford an abortion? How could I face myself again?
I just did.