Blogger, Student, addict.

Dear Reader,

As you may have noticed in the title, one of the three words listed above is a bit unusual. The truth is, I am 20 and alongside being a (rookie) blogger and a (sort of) student (I’ll address that later), I am an addict.

I have been an addict for as long as I can remember. It all boils down to having a bit (understatement of the year) of an addictive personality. The type of addict I am means that I work in binges: so, I can function without needing to give in to my addiction for a while, but eventually I will snap and need to get my fix.

A fix of what, though?

Well, it started out with bubblegum. When I was a kid, I would pretty much buy strawberry hubba bubba in bulk and binge on it until I felt sick, and then not touch the stuff until months had passed and I was hit with another craving.

Then it moved onto alcohol. I found out that I liked feeling the effects of alcohol when I was a young teenager. I could binge on alcohol, and get absolutely plastered without having any sings of a hangover. This was dangerous though, as I quickly became addicted to it, and binged on it at weird times- including mid-week mornings and alone in my room after lights out.

Then along came drugs. I had dabbled with legal highs and solvents before even having drunk alcohol, but my “hard” drug addiction emerged in my later teenage years. It started out in a pretty textbook manner: I smoked weed with my friends, and eventually I started taking harder things, and then harder things on my own.

By 19, I was addicted to cocaine. I would binge on it over the course of a few days, and then somehow be able to leave it alone for a short while, until I would come crawling back to it.

By 20, I was addicted to methamphetamine. Again, I would binge on it like there was no tomorrow (and at the rate I was going at, it often felt like there wouldn’t be). I managed to completely quit everything for a while, but my addiction thrives off chaos, and I started to use again when things got tough in my personal life.

What about the student part?

Well, was a student. I was a student in a Russell group university, and my grades were (miraculously) quite good. But my University had to ask me to leave to sort myself out. There weren’t really any other viable options, and I am so grateful to them for giving me this amazing opportunity to sort myself out and then return as a clean and sober 21 year old.

But the thing is, I do actually have to return as a clean and sober 21 year old. 

Fancy joining me on my journey?

Much love,


What is addiction really like?

People don’t see what goes on behind closed doors. The really scary thing about addiction, that still frightens me to this very day, is how it’s actually not scary at all. I was taking it in my room, in my flat in Spain on my gap year. I had a cuddly toy on my bed, pink sandals by my door and cocaine on my desk. It was bizarre, and went against everything I had ever been taught about drug culture.

It wasn’t like anything I had seen in films, it was just me, in my cosy little room. During my binges, I would snort a thick line of the powder on my own, then clean the flat, or call a friend, or go to the supermarket. It felt safe, and made me feel beautiful, inside and out.

I never mixed alcohol with cocaine. Despite the fact that I was taking class A drugs, I tried to remain relatively cautious, a concept which was later drilled into me in therapy: if you can’t be good, be careful. 

But you never see the reality of active addiction.

Addiction is disgusting and degrading, and people call it “using” but in reality its getting a dirty straw from McDonald’s, cutting it in half with scissors you used to cut your fingernails, leaving the house carrying drugs in a baggie that probably smells like weed and wandering aimlessly around town waiting for the previous hit to wear off so you can have another one.

Addiction is going to the Pret-à-manger customer toilets, getting the drugs out from your jacket pocket, getting two filthy cards out, one of which is your student ID, the other a SIM card voucher, mushing up the drugs on the toilet seat and inhaling them to the back of your throat through your nose as quietly as possible. It’s routine and you do it quickly, but you’re paranoid as ever.

Addiction is then running your finger over the toilet lid and rubbing it into your gums so they go numb and you feel like you can function for a little while, until you have to find another café or Starbucks toilet and do it again, with trembling fingers, shaking from a combination of relief and desperation.

Addiction is knowing how disgusting the harsh reality of taking drugs, and still going out of your way to chase the feeling of initial ecstasy that evolves into simply feeling like yourself for a short while.

And to turn your back on it, on this grubby little substance that no one else on this earth seems to understand the way you do, to turn your back on not just the lifestyle, but the habit, the ritual of cutting a white powdered line, the cutting and crushing of the powdered rocks, the blissful taste, the ecstasy, the euphoria, the feeling like everything in your life is so fucking OKAY, will forever be to this day one of the saddest, and yet most badass, cool things I will ever have to do.

One day I am going to kick this in the balls. Stay with me while I do, internet.



How much cocaine have I taken in the last 48 hours: an adventure.

So I started my iPhone timer about 48 hours ago (if this isn’t accurate I apologise), and every time I have taken cocaine, I have pressed the “lap” button on the screen to monitor the intervals in between each hit.

Here is what my phone is currently displaying.

Lap 1: 08:32 – so to explain this, I took a hit, then 8 and a half minutes later, another one.
Lap 2: 1:26:07
Lap 3: 44:29
Lap 4: 1:51:40
Lap 5: 43:26
Lap 6: 58:16
Lap 7: 1:37:41
Lap 8: 43:52
Lap 9:1:25:47
Lap 10: 2:58:14
Lap 11: 03:20
Lap 12: 3:10:45
Lap 13: 1:02:53
Lap 14: 1:40:44
Lap 15: 1:28:07
Lap 16:19:52:32 (I fell asleep for 12 hours then didn’t use for a further 7)
Lap 17: 47:53
Lap 18: 1:14:05
Lap 19: 3:56:33
Lap 20: 2:21:09
Lap 21:1:03:04
Lap 22: 38:53

So there we have it. In the last 49 hours I have used 22 times. I haven’t used in the last 38 minutes; the longest gap was 19 hours, the shortest was just 3 minutes.

Addiction is disgusting.

Can you overdose on cocaine?


My chest hurts. My chest beats and with each pulse there is a surge of pain. As I write this there are pains down my left arm and my legs are tingling.

I am powerless over my addiction. I wish I was powerless over my recovery. I wish I couldn’t help but get better. I wish instead of walking for miles in the rain, spending stupid amounts of my savings on crap, I walked for miles in the rain to get to a meeting.

I wish I had never done that first line when I was a teenager. Sanity and insanity are separated by a small white line, and that line is the best and worst thing that could ever happen to you.

But that’s the thing; drugs didn’t ever happen to me. I went and found them all by myself. And they found me in return and turned against me.

My chest has stopped hurting, but I feel dizzy and lightheaded. Possibly because I haven’t eaten properly in days.

I need a sponsor in NA. How do you get one?

The one thing running through my mind right now is simply to have another line. In the last 4 hours I’ve done 6 long, fat lines, and I can’t stop. I wish I could stop by choice not by circumstance.



I did a thing…

A really good thing.


It was so fun and I made friends with people almost immediately. And now, I feel a bit more put together and confident in my recovery.

You know that feeling when you go to the gym and then you emerge feeling amazing, and you walk past some smokers, and you just feel totally repulsed by it? (Regardless of whether or not you are a smoker…) Well, I felt a bit like that on a more extreme scale last night. I came out of the gym, and thought about using and just thought of all the good I had just done, and all the hard work I had put into my body and thought, “why ruin it?”

So there we have it. A small victory!

Much love,


I’m not okay

I’m writing this in a location far away from where my parents think I am.

I’m writing this with tears that have settled and dried on my cheeks.

I’m writing this with my heart racing, and my pupils constricted.

I’m writing this with my hands trembling, my palms sweaty and nails blue.

I’m writing this with a pain in my chest that runs deeper than anything physical.

I’m writing this in a bed, at 03:19, scared and alone.

I’m writing this, and all this time I’ve been craving more of the bad stuff that makes me feel so fucking okay.

I’m writing this hoping that whoever stumbles across this small corner of the internet can take a moment to think of all the addicts suffering in and outside of the paper thin walls that surround me.

God, grant me the serenity, to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

My heart is yours, dear reader. Please look after it.


I ran away (again)

Currently writing this from Birmingham where my lovely partner in crime resides. I have always been ‘flight’ out of the fight or flight option, and I am living up to that at present as I have fled (fairly) far away from London where I live.

Some questions and answers: a list by H.

Why the f*** did you run away?

Because I felt like all I do at home is cause trouble. My mum literally turned round to me and said I have this ability to make her feel like the worst parent in the world. I don’t like causing trouble, contrary to popular opinion, and I certainly don’t like being told I make people feel like rubbish. So that’s why I fled.

Why Birmingham?

Because my sort-of-are-we-aren’t-we boyfriend lives there, and no matter how bad things get in my head (notice how I said head, and not home- this isn’t a blame game I’m playing) I can always trust that he will be there to love me unconditionally and try to get me to see some sense.

So, what’s the plan?

Good question. As of today, the current plan is to stay on a bit longer then return home, and apologise to my mother, father, and try not to numb my feelings with copious amounts of cocaine. I will attend meetings and keep myself as sane as I can.

Over and out,



Here is a light-hearted poem about heroin.

There was a girl who liked to feel
Everything but her feelings,
So she puffed and drank and snorted,
And she’d wake up facing ceilings.

Curious the girl grew bored,
-You’ve got to give her credit-
And learned about this other drug
As she browsed her way through reddit.

Through working in a cashmere shop,
She’d income for her gap year,
To Guildford Town she went, naive,
And was sold some simply crap gear.

By 19 she was hooked on it,
and blamed no one but chance,
She’d found her missing puzzle piece,
And passed life in a trance.


I realise this poem is lighthearted but the message is clear: Heroin is cunning and addiction is deceitful. The point of the poem is that its lighthearted, singsong nature draws you in, without realising that at the heart of it is something horrific; very similar to heroin itself.

Stay safe guys, and if you want to seek help or advice about any drug, talk to FRANK.


Much love,