Ramblings of a Girl Junkie

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 17:01:00 +0000

I’m a Tourist not a Terrorist http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=200396673698&ssPageName=ADME:L:LCA:GB:1123

ASDA drop Jordan after breast remarks

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Sat, 26 Sep 2009 22:30:00 +0000

The news that ASDA have dropped Jordan aka Katie Price aka Pain in the Arse from their publicity shots which are aimed at raising money for a Breast Cancer Awareness Campaign for complaining about scars on her breasts from plastic surgery is causing quite a fight between Jordan fans and the sane world.

Many are claiming it’s a witch-hunt, others can’t see the problem, after all, she’s a model who’s hired for her body and her looks, and if she’s raising money for the campaign. What’s the problem?

The problem is this: If you, or anyone close to you has ever suffered from breast cancer, you will no doubt be aware of the treatments involved. Treatments such as full and partial mastectomies and lumpectomies which leave women with either no breasts, or breasts which can be badly disfigured. The strength that is needed to accept your body after surgery such as this is immense, and to hear a self-indulgent, attention-seeking imbecile such as Jordan complain about a self-inflicted scar is just sickening. She obviously has no awareness of the campaign she is happy to front. After all, when it comes to Jordan, she’ll do just about anything to make sure he face is on a front page or billboard somewhere.

Breast cancer patients do not want to be represented by someone so shallow that they feel the need to complain about a tiny scar on her breast, inflicted at her insistence, on national TV.

She shows that she has no clue what breast cancer sufferers can have to go through, and if she hasn’t taken the time to find out by now, I doubt she ever will.

Good riddance, people with cancer have enough to put up with without throwing her and her big mouth into the mix.

In Darkness

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 21:20:00 +0000

In Darkness

In darkness hangs my weary head

Heavy with the pain

Of love and loss, life and death

And overwhelming shame.

Every thought turns to white

An empty space in time

A nothingness to fill my head

To keep it hanging down.

I need to speak but no-one hears

The cry I'm screaming out

Silently, I make my noise

Darkness heeds my shout

I wonder if I'm drowning

If dark can have that power

And if the night will leave

Or stay forever now

I close my eyes and hold my head

The darkness drawing in

Tighter, closer, I feel it now

It's ready to begin

It sears my flesh, and drags me down

My knees have given in

I hit the ground, the dark grows loud

As I suffer for my sin

There is no pause, no rest, no peace

No when, or why, or how.

Nothing left but sleep to take.

The darkness has me now

Treading water

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Fri, 21 Aug 2009 16:06:00 +0000

I feel like I am treading water, sinking deeper into that dark place from which I took so long to escape before. I know what I want but sometimes I feel like I don't know or won't do what I need to do to get it.

I haven't felt this low in a long time, and I know it will pass with sleep, food, time, and honesty.

It will pass.

So if I have to feel lost to get where i need to be then that's how I have to feel. My body is trying to tell me something with migraine after migraine, if only I'd listen.

But still I lie to myself.

Be more Buddha. In the now, responding not reacting. Aware of me and everything I do. Do everything with total awareness and commitment whatever it is I'm doing.

I am a total junkie. There is simply and absolutely no point in denying, at least not to myself.

But still I lie to myself.

Legal cocaine anyone? (UPDATED)

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 03:32:00 +0000

I've had my fair share of drugs, legal and illegal and had given up on both, legals due to the fact that they were generally crap and illegals because I didn't know when to say 'no'.

Over the last few years a new generation of legals has been emerging and they are, to say the least, kicking some illegal ass.

One of the latest to hit the market is Charge, a legal alternative to coke which is market as a 'party powder' and 'bath salts.'

I ordered some to see just what all the fuss was about. When it arrived it was whiter than it appears in this photo, that seems to be a new change as some of the reviews talked about it's brownish tinge (more like heroin then in appearance). It's been over three years since I last had any illegals, I just like them too much, so I wondered if I'd remember what it was like for comparison.

To be honest, as it's been so long, and I'm just sitting in the house on my own (hardly party central) I only tried a little but, but there is definitely some effect here. There was a surge of heat throughout my body, I feel smiley and have more energy than I've had all day. I'm also incredible horny, something reviews mentioned happened quite frequently.

It blows my mind that this stuff is legal, just like it did when I found out about Spice (Which, if you haven't tried, is exactly like grass - just give it a few minutes to kick in unlike it's illegal equivalent and then sit back and enjoy a very pleasant, if somewhat heavy high).

Not much of a review so I'll update later when I've tried more, but for now, it seems that this Party Powder is enough to get things started.

Want to try some? You can buy it here from me

The King is Dead - Michael Jackson Rocks the World One More Time

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 08:34:00 +0000

It's pretty hard to not want to blog today, yesterday really was one of those 'where were you' moments. It was a night when it was OK to phone and text people in the middle of the night, because it was one of those things that everyone would want to know.

I normally start work at 5am so would usually be in bed by the time the news broke here in the UK (on Twitter which beat the main news sites by some 5/10 minutes), but as I'm off today I'd stayed up beyond my bedtime. And then I couldn't switch of the TV, total shock TV, something that happens only a handful of times in a lifetime. The world was in collective shock. Diana and 9/11 are the only other comparisons I have in my lifetime.

As much as any death is a sad event, I couldn't help but think of the thousands who dies each day, many of whom suffer extremely violent deaths, none of which could even come close to generating the frenzy which accompanied the news that the King of Pop was dead. A sad indictment of our society? A measure of the impact of one man? Probably a bit of both. And I'm just as responsible, on here blogging about Jacko, not Darfur?iran/Afghanistan/Irag/Insert as necessary.

So many times, on Sky News, on BBC, online, the phrase 'you could separate the man from the music' was used, but can you? Didn't the man make the music? If it wasn't for the man would there have been such hype over his music? Do I just not get it?

And how did Uri Geller get on so many TV stations with the same crap? He refused to answer when he last spoke/saw Jackson, preferring to talk more about himself. Bandwagon anyone?

The news people are harping on about how he will be missed, but will he be missed anymore than if he had continued to life his hermetic life? He hadn't produced anything meaningful in a musical sense since 1995 and hardly stepped out in public since that last round of molestation charges in 2005. Am I being too harsh? Yes it's shocking, yes he was a fabulous musician and entertainer, but that can't gloss over the other stuff. We can't let it.

Before his death had even been confirmed the internet was buzzing with the news that it was a suicide/overdose, with even the number 24 being touted as the number of pills he swallowed. This morning I see the story has moved on and it was heroin/speed in his system, the same cocktail that did for River Phoenix or an OD of painkillers depending on what you read. I doubt we'll ever know anything beyond 'stress-induced cardiac arrest' and thus the conspiracy theories will abound a la Elvis.

For now there is a world in grief, united for once, but it will pass and life will return to normal. Just for the next few days, I'm going to watch how the world reacts to the death of a single man, no matter how great, at the expense of all other news. Who the hell knows what is going on in other countries that we'll never know about.

Incompetence of the highest order

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Sat, 02 May 2009 11:55:00 +0000

{begin random rant}
I live in a council flat (the rent's cheap, location great, why the hell not?) Last year they put in new windows, superb we all thought, who wouldn't want new windows?

Then came the winter and we all started to notice something wasn't quite right. I had the thermostat at 32 degrees centigrade and still my flat was freezing. After closer inspection, there were the most enormous gaps underneath the window sills, some of which were large enough for me to put my hand through. No wonder it was costing me £80 a month in gas! (it wasn't helped by the fact that the woman who 'lives' in the flat below is pulling some sort of DHSS scam and doesn't actually live there and so her flat is never heated).

I got straight on the phone to the Northern Ireland Housing Executive. They basically told me to go away. It wasn't an emergency and due to the 'recession' they were undertaking no 'non-essential' repairs until April. How the hell is a foot-deep gap beneath windows in almost every room in the middle of a freezing winter not an emergency?

Anyway, I complained but it didn't do any good. Eventually, I went to the council offices were I was told that there had been so many complaints about the windows that the executive would be going around every flat to fix them. Finally! It was Spring when it wasn't needed, but still, at least they were going to fix them.

Last week, I arrived home from my day job to find a letter saying they'd called to fix my windows (some people who live in council flats actually do fucking work you know!) and that I should ring to arrange a new call-out. It would take them around two hours to fix when they were here.

Before I got a chance to ring, there was a knock on my door on Thursday "We're here to fix your windows" WTF. I told them it wasn't convenient (I was working and you can't just land at someones door, demanding to get in with no prior arrangement) but they wouldn't take no for an answer. Literally. Everytime I said no, they argued back. In they came, around the windows they went, used what can only be described as the most foul-smelling filler I have ever come across and were gone in ten minutes leaving me to tidy up. And endure the smell for around 36 hours.

But at least it was done.

Then, this morning, Saturday, 9.30am, there was a knock at the door. My g/f was sitting in the living room, having spent most of the night being sick as she started chemo yesterday. It was the window guys again. Apparently they had some complaints that people were still getting drafts. I told them, again, it was convenient. They argued back again. I kept saying they couldn't come in and they kept insisting. It took me shouting at them that I had someone who had just started chemo sitting in the house and it REALLY wasn't convenient before they would fuck off.

Seriously, how hard is it to get a job right the first time round? Or the second? How can you expect to arrive at someones door, unannounced at 9.30 on a Saturday morning and expect that you can just waltz in, go round the whole house, disturbing everyone in it? I am furious that I had to argue to stop three men just walking into my house because it suited them to fix their fuck up. What about when it suited me over the whole bloody winter when I was freezing?

No wonder my bloody rent is so cheap!

{end rant}

Partners with Cancer

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Sat, 18 Apr 2009 08:13:00 +0000

Check out this new forum for the partners of people with cancer. As it's fairly new, please bear with us as it gets going, but without you, there will be no forum.

Please forward this to anyone you think might find it useful. Partners and friends welcome (or anyone else who's life has been touched by cancer) in this place for support, advice, letting off steam, having a laugh, and hopefully making some new friends.

It's lonely out there as all the support that I have found is geared towards the patient. This is for those close to the patient who can need the support just as much.

http://www.partnerswithcancer.com

and follow Partners with Cancer on Twitter here

Hope to see you soon

Follow me on Twitter

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Tue, 14 Apr 2009 18:17:00 +0000

twitter.com/leannehurley
twitter.com/gaygirlsguide
twitter.com/ladyarse
twitter.com/girljunkie

and let me know what you're up to :)

Race For Life

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Fri, 03 Apr 2009 17:07:00 +0000

As you may be aware, my partner was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. Through the swift action of the NHS, she has have the tumour (which was starting to spread) removed and luckily it hadn't managed to make it to the lymph nodes. She'll still have to have chemo and radiotherapy, but she is so, so lucky.

Her friend is doing one of Cancer Research's Race for Life in Belfast and is dedicating it to my partner.

If you can, please support her (and help the millions of others who are affected by this ever-spreading disease)

Day Whatever

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 16:16:00 +0000

You know, I'm finding writing this a hell of a lot harder than I first imagined. I have built up so many mental blocks in front of this whole thing that I'm having trouble getting through them to write what's going on in my head. Maybe I don't know what's going on in my head, in fact, I don't. I've never been here before and I've no idea what comes next. My mind is just blank.

Day 4 - The day before hospital

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Sat, 21 Mar 2009 23:27:00 +0000

It's Saturday and there's not much going on. P goes into hospital tomorrow. My best friend's hen night is tonight and we don't know if we're going to do the dinner and Blondie tribute night, or just do dinner. Both of us are worried about doing what makes the other one comfortable, how the heel am I supposed to know what's going on in P's head? I've never even had someone close to me go through this before, let alone go through it myself. I just wish there was something I could do, but I know there's nothing to be done other than be there.

There's an Arsenal match on the TV today so that should keep both of us occupied and distracted.

Final score 3-1 to Arsenal and I won £120 - that's dinner sorted at least. P seems in good spirits, so we're off out for dinner.

When we arrive at the restaurant, everyone is already there. We'd stayed til the end of the match (7.25) and dinner was arranged for 7.30. We're not late so no-one notices.

It all turned out to be a great laugh and something to take both our minds of everything that's going on. We decided to leave going out after dinner, I'm working tomorrow and P is heading into hospital, hardly the ideal setting for a late night out on the lash

Days 1 -3

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Fri, 20 Mar 2009 22:25:00 +0000

This is totally surreal.

Wednesday started out as a routine trip for my partner to the hospital to have a breast lump checked out. Simple mammogram, but is anything simple when you family history is infested with cancer?

She didn't want me there. I wanted to be with her but respected her wishes. Text to say the Dr wants a mammogram and an ultrasound, but still, I was to stay in work. Then a text, interspersed with a few phonecalls, and the Dr is concerned. She wants to do a needle biopsy. I should be with her. No, just stay where you are she says. I can't.

Out of work, run to the taxi depot, taxi to the hospital. The sun might be splitting the sky but no matter how many times the taxi driver says it's a beautiful day, I just can't see it.

At the hospital, phone in hand, where is she? I haven't let her know that I'm coming up, I didn't want to give her the chance to say no. She can tell me to leave if she wants. She doesn't.

In the waiting room she is surprised, but pleased to see me. I take my seat beside her and she fills me in on how her day has been so far. She's trying to be light-hearted but I can see the fear in her eyes. Is cancer something you can just 'know' you have?

The nurse starts calling people to hand out results. One by one names are called into the room behind us, most of them not even getting the time to get their arse in the seat before they are out again. All clear. My partner asks me if she thinks they are just getting the good news out of the way first as they'll need to spend more time with the 'bad'. I say I don't think so, but I do.

From 10 people there are now only three, and we are two of them. Her name is called and we stand up. The nurse walks towards a different room, we aren't going into the one behind us, the room of good news is not our destination. As we walk down the narrow corridor the nurse puts her arm around my partner. I wonder if they know how obvious this is and how they are giving the results without saying a word. We look at each other and we both know.

Into the room and the Dr is sitting there, door is closed. Bad news, we've found a cancerous lump in your breast. No, the lump you were concerned with was nothing to be worried about. This little bastard was hiding behind that one and would probably never have been noticed until it was too late had this other lump not popped up. My words, not the docs. It's 1.2cm, at least that's what they think. The Dr. is away after only a few minutes and we get up to leave too, shock taking over and a haze descending. The cancer nurse sits us back down. There's details to be talked through. My partner says she's glad I'm there as I can take it in so she can just ask me if she doesn't hear something. I don't know how much I took in.

The operation to remove it will be in two-three weeks, once they can get a bed. Then radiotherapy. Chemo is an option, as is a mastectomy, but only once they get the lump and lymph nodes out and see if it has spread.

We're in the car now, heading back to mine. I don't remember how that journey went. Pull up outside my flat, she wants to make a call but doesn't want me there while she does it. I can understand. I go into my flat and phone my mum.

Not long after she comes in she's away and I have no idea what to do with myself. There is this overwhelming urge to be doing something, anything, but I have no idea what. She wants to spend tonight at home with her son. I want her here or me to be there but I understand.

Thursday and it's into work. Telling people is easy when it hasn't sunk in. I may as well just be saying she has a cut on her finger I'm doing it in such a matter of fact way. But every now and then the severity of what this could entail hits me. I shut it out with a shake of my head.

Later on the phone rings, it's her, I should give her a name, let's call her P. I answer, P says she scared. Why, I stupidly ask, knowing why she would be scared, but knowing it's not like her to just blurt that sort of thing out. Something must have happened. The hospital had rang, they have a bed, she's going in on Sunday and her operation will be on Monday. Suddenly we don't have two-three weeks to adjust to this, we have two-three days.

We're supposed to be going to Snow Patrol tonight, neither of us want to. Luckily we get the tickets shifted and decide to just spend a nice quiet night in with chinese. Sometimes that's just what you need.

We talk about it. About how they will probably get her to sign a waiver or consent form or whatever it's called so that they can do a mastectomy if they need to when they are removing the lump. She wants reconstructive surgery at the same time. Do they do that? She wants to wheel me in to the surgeon and show him my breasts, claiming she wants a pair like them. It's funny, but I'm struggling to laugh.

We had wanted to go to the FA Cup semi final but were struggling to get tickets, when P says she saw that disabled people got priority. She asks if she can be considered as disabled, I say that I don't think a disabled tit is enough to qualify. She says 'it's worth a try'. This time we do both laugh.

In bed I'm very clingy, at least, I feel I am. And then it's morning and we lie in bed, drinking coffee and having a laugh. My rush to get out of bed is not there as it is most mornings. I think it's 12 before we get up. Then it's out, some shopping and she's gone. Her son is at his dads and she wants some time to herself, a night on her own before the hen night and then into hospital. I understand.

I can't get my head around all this. I've never had anyone close to me die, I've been lucky. Cancer is practically non-existent in my family so I don't know what to do. I hate not knowing what to do.

I feel helpless and lost. How the hell is she feeling?

My bed feels huge and empty tonight.

The Big C

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Fri, 20 Mar 2009 14:10:00 +0000

It's not something people like to talk about, the Big C, even though we all know talking about it is the one thing that will help relieve some of the myths and fear which still surround cancer. Gay girl health is a very under-discussed topic, I don't think it's a conversation I've ever had with any gay friends of mine....until this week.

On Wednesday my partner was diagnosed with breast cancer (thought to be early and treatable). She'll be heading into hospital on Sunday for a 'lumpectomy' on Monday. From discovery of the lump to removal in 20 days. Not bad for the much-slated NHS.

We've decided that we're going to both keep diaries of the time between now and the all-clear, hers the view of the 'sufferer' mine the view of the partner obviously.

She hasn't decided if she'll be putting hers online yet, but mine will be available on this blog where I hope others can come and share their stories and a support network can build.

You don't have to be gay to join in...just so you know. Cancer knows no sexuality, race, religion, or gender. All are welcome here.

Akrasia (pt 4)

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 18:13:00 +0000

The radio slowly made its presence heard, burrowing into my ear until it reached my ear drum, slashing at it violently. I had to turn it off. Now it was too quiet. The silence was as annoying as the noise so I flicked on the television. I had a pretty good idea that there would be nothing interesting on any of the thousand channels of shit so I settled for the noise as company rather than distraction and entertainment.

I stood in the middle of my living room, completely relieved that Laura had just swore that we were finished for good this time. I waited for the sense of release, a 9-month strain having just fallen of my shoulders and walked out my door.

Here I was, free where I wanted to be. Single and answerable to no one. Psycho free. Then I begun to think of Laura. I wondered if she would still be upset or if she was really upset in the first place. I wondered if I should call her and make sure she was ok. I wondered if I needed my head read.
“Psychos. All, lesbians are bloody psychos.”

Akrasia (pt 3)

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Mon, 05 Jan 2009 18:09:00 +0000

The argument and subsequent split was just one of many between us, it was par for the course really and I shouldn’t have expected anything else. I just couldn’t be bothered bending to accommodate her demands any more.

My daily life had been trudging on, a mundane routine of spending time with a girl I didn’t want to be around, getting more and more stoned trying to deal with the shit that had become my life.

When Laura had gone long enough for the ringing in my ears to stop, I thought about what she had said, screamed, whatever. I didn’t know why I was still holding on, I’ve wanted things to change for so long now, from the moment Laura first started demanding I devote my life to her. That was never going to happen. Not in the way Laura wanted anyway. I had to report my movements 24/7. And she lied, I knew for a fact. I’d caught her out on more than one occasion, but still I had stayed.

Deep down I knew the reason why I’d stayed. I could feel it burning in the pit of my stomach but I would never speak of it. I won’t admit to anyone else, but I knew it if I was honest to myself. I had told Laura that I loved her, not because I did or even thought I might but simply because I wanted to be able to love. I wanted to be able to love after so fucking long. But it hadn’t worked, I couldn’t let anyone have control over me. Maybe one day I could, outside I had tried to act like someone who was in love.

That kind of act is just not possible.

Akrasia (pt 2)

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Sun, 04 Jan 2009 18:06:00 +0000

“Why are you being like this?”

“I’m not being like anything,” I said. I grabbed my tin from the fireplace and sat on my chair.

“Might have fuckin’ known, you just wanna get stoned.”

I shrugged my shoulders, “And?”

There was no response from Laura, but I knew what was coming. Laura turned on her heels and went straight to the bedroom. My bedroom. I could hear the drawers being wrenched open, the wardrobe door banging every time she slammed it. Laura was getting anything that was hers and probably quite a lot that wasn’t. I was getting my joint ready. I knew Laura was expecting me in the bedroom. I also knew that I was expected to be the one to bend over and say sorry. Not this time. This time there was no bending to be done. I mightn’t be able to tell Laura exactly what I thought of her, but I was damned sure that I wasn’t going to keep telling her what she wanted to hear.

“Get her out and then it will all be ok. It’ll take a bit of getting used too, but don’t you dare wuss out on me now bitch, you hear me.” I nodded my head to acknowledge my own reassurances. It would be ok once she was out.

The slamming stopped, I guessed she must have got everything she could find.

“How are you getting home?” I said, immediately regretting having opened my mouth to say anything other than “Please. Darling. Don’t”. Laura’s head spinned in my direction, I flinched thinking it was going to spin right off. Exorcist, it was an obvious observation. This time I didn’t say anything out loud.

“Pardon?”

Shit. I knew I couldn’t repeat it, I’d already been brave today saying it the first time round.

“Just…nothin’, forget it.”

“Oh I will and I’ll forget about you too. Don’t you worry yourself, I’ll be gone soon and then you can smoke yourself to death.”

I muttered “Much obliged ma’m” but I did so so quietly that I couldn’t even hear it myself.

Wuss.

It seemed like an eternity before the taxi beeped its horn. I sat on my seat. Laura moved towards the door.

“Well. I guess that’s me then.” I looked at her for the first time since she’d came out of the bedroom.

“I guess it is.”

“Fuck you!

I lit my joint and drew hard.

Akrasia (pt 1)

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Sat, 03 Jan 2009 18:05:00 +0000

It wasn’t like it was a real drug, comeontafuck; it’s dope, hash, smoke, a little brown lump that makes you feel good. No way I’m a junkie. I havn’t touched anything else, no wee white powders or pills for a long time now. God though, some would be just the ticket right about now. I don’t have a habit. Laura had just been winding me up, trying to get to me to lose the rag and slap her about. It was almost working too but I wasn’t into that stuff, not the way Laura was.

Fair enough, consensual and in proper circumstances and I would whip out the whip with the best of them, but I wasn’t about to start slapping my girlfriends about the place mid-argument just because this one happened to get off on it. I was proud to be able to say I’d never lifted a hand to a girlfriend. Ever. Nothing Laura could say would get that reaction from me. Laura still knew which buttons to hammer on me to get the argument really going. Even I didn’t think I knew how close she’d pushed me before. Still, I wouldn’t raise my hand. Once, I had wanted to grab her and smash her head into the wall just to make her stop starting fights. Just so I would be quiet. Laura just wouldn’t shut up, going on and on, hiding my tin so I couldn’t roll a smoke and then starting her one-bitch crusade against drug addicts. Like she was so fucking clean, she’d been popping pills long before I had even discovered alcohol, she’d a fuckin nerve to start callin me a junkie. So what if I smoked it every day, it was only hash for chrissake. It wasn’t like I was addicted or anything.

Fuck, I needed a smoke, where’s that tin? I hoped that bitch hadn’t hid it again.

And then the anger passed as swiftly as it had arrived, turning into nothing more than pure annoyance. Still, I wouldn’t say how I was really feeling.

I closed my eyes and sighed. But I knew as I rubbed them that it wouldn’t make any difference. Laura would still be there, standing in my living room waiting for answers to her absurd and unreasonable demands. All I wanted to know was when Laura was going to fuck off so I could have a joint in peace. I wanted desperately for my head to stop pounding and for that I needed gobby in the corner to shut up.

“Are you just gonna sit there likeatwat or are ya going say somein?”
I sighed again then opened my eyes. “Aint got nothing to say.”
“You’re a fuckin prick, ya know tha? You’re a waste a space, fuckin stonehead.”
I just shook my head and laughed. Nothing was particularly funny, but I didn’t fancy screaming right now and felt that I should make some sort of noise.

This was the point that I decided I didn’t give a toss anymore. Actually, I think that point had poked me a while back but it was only now that I was starting to take notice. Laura could shove her relationship up her arse and see what sort of commitment she got from it up there. I was done, finished, there wasn’t another drop I could squeeze out of myself so I could feel anything other than revulsion for this woman. When I managed to get Laura out of my flat this time it was going to be for good.

And I meant it this time too. But how to get her out?
Where the fuck was my tin? Ah, there it is, on the fireplace. Excellent.

You want to be me?

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Fri, 02 Jan 2009 16:55:00 +0000

You want to be me? You want to wake up every morning and look forward to nothing but the end of the day when you can fall into dreamless sleep and everything is quiet, still? Existence stops when I sleep and that’s just about fine with me.

You want to be me? You want to feel like you’ve no one to turn to? You want to be alone? Feel a need to be alone without having to explain why this world hurts so much to be a part of. You want to see no point to any of it yet not have the option of just switching it all off? Easy to pop a few pills, only when you’ve seem the aftermath of two failed suicides reflected in the eyes of your mother, that option soon overrides even your deepest desire to leave this mortal coil

You don’t want to be me, hell, I don’t even want to be me. I don’t even want to be somebody else.

Its just all so meaningless. There is no point to any of it. Hurt, joy, desire, fear, it’s all irrelevant, evolved over thousands of years for who knows what reason. Maybe this is our prison, we all feel like something’s not quite right. That there’s something of a matrix feel to the world, pulled over our eyes to hide us from the truth. Maybe we developed our feelings to hide ourselves from the truth. But what truth? Why have we evolved emotions to such a degree? What purpose do they serve? What purpose do we serve?

A cancer on the face of the planet, consuming what we touch and destroying what we don’t want. Humans don’t do need anymore, at least not the ones we’re allowed to see on the tv and in the papers. The only people that truly need on this planet are sheltered from view lest they awaken us to the fact that we are carnivores devouring our planet, sacrificing our people and abandoning our children all because we want. We want. We want. We are the only species that wants (other species such as dog and cat are only aware of the concept of want because we have taught them) while every other species needs. And to get our wants we deny their needs. We watch as species are obliterated from our planet, and argue over where to have dinner while millions starve. We languish in the trivialities we have created for ourselves and think that life’s tough. We ignore our neighbour’s screams because don’t want to get into trouble, we kill to stop killing, we kill to create peace, we kill to eat, we kill to live, we kill to stay warm, and we kill to pass the time.

There is no justification, none, nothing we have done or tried to do, that could be argued in defence of our continued existence.

My story of addiction, desperation, despair, and recovery

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Wed, 31 Dec 2008 11:54:00 +0000

If I tell you I’m an addict, what do you think? That I’m addicted to drugs? I was but that’s not all, it’s not quite that simple. I am an addict with no specific thing mentioned cause I wasn’t just addicted to drugs and I have the potential to be addicted to anything. Addict covers it all, the what is just the outlet, the release, the method used at a particular time to seek oblivion from myself, my head, my body, my world.

Im clean but I am still an addict, I will always be an addict til the day I die. Full recovery is never possible, there’s no certificate of cure, no course to complete. I am, and always will be an addict.

But I am clean. And, more important than that, today, as I write this, I have no need to use.

I started this on my 36th day clean. Why? Partly to help me understand myself further, partly to help others realise that there is a way out even though a way out may seem as realistic as me saying there’s a way for you to walk to the moon. After only 36 days my recovery has taken me to places I avoided at all costs while I was using, more than that, it has taken me to places I thought I hated and to places I didn’t even know I wanted to be.

What tomorrow will be bring I have no idea, but I know that today, as I start this I am clean.

Today, I am simply an addict who hopes that by the time she finishes it she can be clean too.

My Diary

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Mon, 01 Dec 2008 20:29:00 +0000

[2008 December 1 20:26]
I don't geneally do regrets, often thinking 'is this something I'll
wish I had have done' when I'm on my deathbed, when deciding should i
do something i cant get motivated for...if I don't do this, it will be
something I will regret and it's not one I want to have

My Diary

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Mon, 01 Dec 2008 19:55:00 +0000

[2008 December 1 19:53]
There is nothing as powerful as an idea whose time has come....

My Diary

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Sun, 30 Nov 2008 19:54:00 +0000

[2008 November 30 19:36]
What a day, arsenal come from behind to win 2 1 at Chelsea and I win
£150 sweet, feeling better in my head too, it's been sore for a while
and I think I've been stressing myself about money and stuff but I
seen a clear trickledown plan and if I just take it slow and steady
instead of trying to do it all at once it should work...now I just
need to get myself motivated and creating, I know it's in me something
just keeps resisting, something is afraid, but of what I'm not sure

Straights f**k with the sanctity of marriage yet again

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 06:40:00 +0000

According to the papers today Bex and Luke from the UK's Big Brother got married in Vegas yesterday. Anyone else find this disgusting? At a time when gay people are still fighting for the rights to have their relationships legally recognised in the US, it seems that anyone else can get married as long as you're straight. It doesnt matter how long you've known the person, or even if you plan on spending the rest of your life them. You can get married as a PR stunt to keep your name in the paper for a few more weeks, goddess forbid that you might actually be in love with your partner for 30 years, we just couldn't possibly tolerate that sort of attack on the sanctity of marriage.

Farsical. Damaging. Insulting.

Where's the outcry about this?

I see...

girljunkiepod@leannehurley.com (Leanne Hurley) — Mon, 11 Aug 2008 13:05:00 +0000

I see how you work, how you get me, tempt me, tease me, let me feel pleased with myself for resisting, knowing that the next time you will offer something different and I will accept because I said no last time and can show restraint if I want to. I see how you work. Still I let you do your thing.