I just thought I'd do a quick recap of my last few years as most of them were spent away from the comfort of df.
I realized I was in an abusive relationship the first time my boyfriend locked me on our balcony, tried to set it on fire, and once he saw I was calling a friend to come get me he put a shotgun to my head and told me "make sure you tell the 911 operator that by the time they get here your domestic violence call will be a homicide." He would choke my until my neck bruised, he tried to cut off my toe once, kicked me as I balled up on the floor, made videos of himself torturing me "so my family could see how I died." He picked out my clotges in the morning, told the nail girls how to do my manicyres and instructed the salon girls as to how my hair should look, in addition to telling me what i could or couldn't eat depending on if i was to be gaining or losing weight that day. He held me down and cut off my hair, he made me take a polygraph test due to meth delusions (which I failed despite the fact that I was not lying and which led to utter hell for the next three days). He picked me up and let me dangle off our second story balcony while I begged him not to drop me. If you're wondering why so many of these stories took place on our balcony it's because I started sleeping out there in a computer chair, thinking if he tried to kill me at least people might he me scream and intervene somehow. My neighbors eventually stopped, telling me I clearly wanted to die and they were done trying to save me. He kicked me out in winter completely naked and wouldn't let me back in until I agreed to sign a paper removing name from the lease. He tried to blow up our apartment resulting in the bomb squad having to evacuate our building. He was arrested and I was on the streets. He was in jail for 90 days and during that time I wrote him 81 postcards so he would know I hadn't given up on him. Most of them were me complaining about how it was December and I had to sleep outside or about how I was having to turn tricks on a street corner to buy food. Luckily I had enough heroin to last me a month so I didn't have to support my massive habit during that time.
We never broke up. I found him dead in our bathroom after six months of him being sober. I suspected he had started using but I didn't bring it up as I was also using (openly) and I knew I couldn't make him do anything anyway.
To get away from the memories of his death and our relationship I left the state a week after his death and moved to Texas to go to rehab and try to stay over. His mom was posting constantly on Facebook about how he didn't cause his own death and I murdered him. So I got to grieve while being blamed for a person I had no control over.
I get out of rehab and promptly get kicked out of sober living for doing dope and getting caught with a boy in my bed. The boy and I start dating, start doing dope, and eventually hes scheduling appointments for me to have sex with other guys to sort our habit, pay rent, buy groceries, phone bills, court and parole things, gas, etc. We break up 3 times and get back together twice. We have since learned to be friends. He's been sober since we broke up.
I start dating my dope dealer. He moves in with me. He's still living with me and taking care of me. I fucked up both of my femoral veins and for days everytime I'd stand up for more than a few seconds my legs would turn dark purple and start hurting a lot. Blood isn't getting through. Oxygen deprecation to the muscles is causing constant cramps throught the entirety of both legs. And even though I can't walk or move I still need money so I continue escorting and suffer through the pain these guys likely are unaware they're even causing.
Where I am now everything seems hopeless. The last year I've had so many different infections and abscesses and health issues, more than the other eight or so years of my junkie career combined. I've been in and out of rehab and detox about 10 times, my insurance said they were done covering it (before I turned 26 and got kicked off my parents insurance. I used to think and sometimes hope that an overdose would kill me but now it's seemingly far more likely it will be a health problem caused by injecting dope via vein or muscle. Tar is nasty. I don't know what I expect from writing this, definitely not for the majority of people to finish it for sure so if you made it this far, congrats, you have exceeded my expectations.