I hate druggies.
My daughter's a full-on one and I hate her for it. I love her, of course, but I hate the person that the drugs have made her become. We've had eight years of this with her and she's still only 22. We've spent ££s thousands on attempts at rehabilitation, paying to repair or replace stuff that either she or her drugged-up "mates" have broken, or sold to feed their digusting habit.
And, here we are, back at the same point where we have been countless times before: methodone, her mother giving up her job to try and get her back on track, same old, same old.
There has been no reason in her family life for her to have taken this course. She went to private school, didn't really want for anything, enjoyed the fruits of her two parents' hard labour over the years. She's just one of those drawn to the darkside.
I've reached the point where I've given up. Completely. She doesn't have to inject this shít to actually live, she has a four year old son who somehow survived leukaemia very early on in his life and, for that reason alone, she should be trying to give him a decent life, not one filled with countless foul-mouthed feckless individuals floating through her life, her opening her legs just to get a score. The last one moved in with her, was physically violent both to her and the boy: he took the locks off his door, called him a c**t, said get used to being in four walls as that's what's going to happen to you in later life, rammed his mouth with soap when he heard him swearing, yet did nothing to curb his language in front of him. I want to kill him. I want to kill her too, for what she is doing and allowing to be done, to herself, her family and, most importantly, that little boy, our grandson.
We tried to take him away from her, but were advised by lawyers that we would fall foul of the Hague Convention and get prosecuted ourselves. That is how much an ass the law in this country has become. The current thinking from "those who know best" is for the kids to stay with their drugged-up parents (I use the term loosely), so that they can run the risk of falling on needles, get hold of the drugs themselves, be left to fend for themselves whilst the "parents" are off their faces, so that they can listen and absorb all the foul-mouthed, drug-related conversations that take place, so that they can learn all the street words for drugs, so that they get to think that this is the way that life is lived. Yep, that makes perfect sense to me.
I told her to take an overdose the other day, as it's more or less inevitable that that is what will happen, so why prolong the agony, both of her own tortured existence and that of her family? Why not do it, so we can at least try and give her son a better start in life? I don't feel good for having said it, but it genuinely is how I feel about her and the whole shítty situation. I'm done with the encouragement, the endless knock-backs, with this monkey on my back. I have no patience or tolerance left for her and her ilk.
As I said, I hate druggies, every single man/woman-jack of them
My daughter's a full-on one and I hate her for it. I love her, of course, but I hate the person that the drugs have made her become. We've had eight years of this with her and she's still only 22. We've spent ££s thousands on attempts at rehabilitation, paying to repair or replace stuff that either she or her drugged-up "mates" have broken, or sold to feed their digusting habit.
And, here we are, back at the same point where we have been countless times before: methodone, her mother giving up her job to try and get her back on track, same old, same old.
There has been no reason in her family life for her to have taken this course. She went to private school, didn't really want for anything, enjoyed the fruits of her two parents' hard labour over the years. She's just one of those drawn to the darkside.
I've reached the point where I've given up. Completely. She doesn't have to inject this shít to actually live, she has a four year old son who somehow survived leukaemia very early on in his life and, for that reason alone, she should be trying to give him a decent life, not one filled with countless foul-mouthed feckless individuals floating through her life, her opening her legs just to get a score. The last one moved in with her, was physically violent both to her and the boy: he took the locks off his door, called him a c**t, said get used to being in four walls as that's what's going to happen to you in later life, rammed his mouth with soap when he heard him swearing, yet did nothing to curb his language in front of him. I want to kill him. I want to kill her too, for what she is doing and allowing to be done, to herself, her family and, most importantly, that little boy, our grandson.
We tried to take him away from her, but were advised by lawyers that we would fall foul of the Hague Convention and get prosecuted ourselves. That is how much an ass the law in this country has become. The current thinking from "those who know best" is for the kids to stay with their drugged-up parents (I use the term loosely), so that they can run the risk of falling on needles, get hold of the drugs themselves, be left to fend for themselves whilst the "parents" are off their faces, so that they can listen and absorb all the foul-mouthed, drug-related conversations that take place, so that they can learn all the street words for drugs, so that they get to think that this is the way that life is lived. Yep, that makes perfect sense to me.
I told her to take an overdose the other day, as it's more or less inevitable that that is what will happen, so why prolong the agony, both of her own tortured existence and that of her family? Why not do it, so we can at least try and give her son a better start in life? I don't feel good for having said it, but it genuinely is how I feel about her and the whole shítty situation. I'm done with the encouragement, the endless knock-backs, with this monkey on my back. I have no patience or tolerance left for her and her ilk.
As I said, I hate druggies, every single man/woman-jack of them
