I HAD MY LAST shot of heroin and it was no good. Not that it was weak: it was sticky and dark and full of da chemical business but it's not doing the business for me so I'm dropping it. Fortuity has done me a favour in making this easier, I'll explain this later in the week. Heroin and I should have parted ways a long while ago. It does nothing for me except make me feel tired. The joy in it's all gone. I don't care for heroin any more.
I focused my attention today on cleaning my house. This time I cleared out my bedroom, where a pile of detritus had built up by the door. Old cups, papers, pens, biscuit wrappers and everything concealed under a fresh bedsheet. Things had gone seriously downhill like I can't explain. I wrote to the council, who've put me on the Council Tax computer asking now I'm surely on their system, could I please have payment card or counterfoils for the weekly accommodation charge I'm surely supposed to pay here. That's the bill I was told "not to worry about" because as far as the System was concerned I did not exist. My life is Twilight Zone enough without my nonexistence causing additional strife. I'm off to the photocopier, 10p envelope shop and post office with that one as soon as I'm done here. Then I'm supposed to be attending an antidrugs group I don't really want to go to but perhaps I'll feel better afterwards.
Ta-ta everybody: how was your day?
It's taken me fifty years - One morning, when I was in grammar school, a girl in my class came in wearing a denim jacket she'd bought from a charity shop. I loved that jacket and I wa...
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