• County Lines

Of COURSE I (the victim) married the Criminal (the drug dealer)- what else did you expect?!

The small print: the drug dealer, who is now my husband, no longer deals drugs. He was in no way associated with the gang of violent drug dealers who cuckooed me. I met my husband AFTER his drug dealing career ended; thus had no knowledge of any of the criminal activity he partook in. Both him and I are law abiding citizens. By now, those who read my blog are presumably very aware of my thought patterns, personality traits, beliefs and opinions…and my remarkable knack of surviving through each day when i’m the epitome of walking sods law, infinitely jinxed, and the only person whereby the word ‘unlucky’ doesn’t come close to cutting it. The Oxford English Dictionary doesn’t have a word worse than ‘unlucky’. Thus, you won’t be alarmed by the news that I married a drug dealer, a mere six months after first meeting him, in the middle of the COVID pandemic which is not allowing weddings to go ahead. Before you start imagining all manner of dodgy scenario’s, please remember I don’t partake in dodgy/criminal/questionable activities. You’ll have to keep guessing as to how our marriage went ahead though; for the reasons are too personal to write about. We’ve now been together for eight months. We’ve already had a drugs warrant executed in one of the numerous properties we’ve called home. A police raid subsequently got us both arrested. We have been evicted twice. We’ve got married. We’ve hidden out in a freezing cold caravan in the arse end of nowhere in the first month of our relationship, due to both of us having warrants for our arrest by the police. I’ve got pregnant, miscarried. I’ve suffered from sudden respiratory failure, had a heart attack, died then been bought back to life thanks to my husband administering CPR…oh, that’s why we were granted special circumstances by the county council and permitted to have a very last minute wedding. It’s not all fairies and rainbows though. I’m sat here with tears streaming down my face, miserably coming to the conclusion that I still spend every damn day sacrificing myself, risking my freedom, putting myself second every time. I’m consumed by guilt, doubts creeping into my head that though it’s all been in an effort to make other people happy, make their lives easier, eager in my quest to find nothing other than contentment. Maybe I’ve actually wreaked havoc, ruined lives and caused destruction? Financially funding other addicts drug habits, so the ones working as prostitutes can stop being violated, and risking the possibility of being sexually assaulted or worse, raped…Stop the addicts who thieve and steal, ruining innocent people’s lives… Prevent the addicts who work as drug dealers, risking their lives involved in gang violence and freedom of an arrest resulting in a lengthy prison sentence…

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