I’m on the street, NFA no fixed abode. It’s because of the drugs I’ve got this walking stick, eighteen months clean, I was told I’ve got fluids and an abscess on my hip and it’s eating away at my bones. The doctor gave me two ultimatums, one I could lose my limb, or two, I’ll need to get a transfusion, which could result in me dying.

Friday-19th-feb_01
Image captured by Pawel Kmiec

I’ve been on the streets for 27 years, in and out of flats, private lets, hostels everything, I’ve never managed to stick it out though, again because of the drugs scene. Drugs have been rife through my life. My two sisters have got four kids each and a house, I’ve got nothing. I’m on the streets with nothing and I’m fed up.

Sometimes I wish I could just die and get it over with.

The council are trying to get me a flat, I’ll be honest I’m still dabbling, I can’t help it. It all started when I was 16 and I got booted out my house. I got back in when I was 17 and that lasted until I was 21, but after that I started getting the jail.

It was after then that the drug scene came in healthier, I could spend £200 pounds a day. I was also begging, it was easy, it was the way I spoke to people. Sir, Madam, a sign of respect, you might get a couple of pound, but sometimes they might just have given you whatever was in their pocket.

The most I managed in one day was £350, which is more than most people get in a week. One Christmas – New Year week, I made £1100 pounds. It all went on coke.

I was 7 stone 10, last year, and that’s me just starting to put the weight back on, I have to, if I don’t eat i’ll die. they’re telling me I’m dying bit by bit anyway, so it doesn’t matter.  The streets are murder, there’s probably two CID watching right now, thinking I’m talking to drug dealers. I won’t be surprised if they walk in and I have to explain that this change is for a warm drink.

They pick on me three times a day, because they think I’m still scoring, well I am still scoring, but not constant, the way I used to.

I tried rehab, tried it and lasted a day. I wasn’t ready, I was just out of hospital and a worker got me into Rainbow House in Anniesland, but it was no good. I knew I wasn’t ready, everybody was telling me the crap of the day, fourteen year clean and all that. I don’t want to know that, nobody wants to know that. I wanted to get clean, I don’t want to be in a competition with somebody else.

I can make about a hundred pounds a day, and if I make that I’ll just head over to my pals and take coke all day. Chased to the moon. there’s no hyper. A rush, that’s all you’re really getting these days, even the kits not good. The kit’s just to take the monkey off your back and stop you being sick. I’ve been sick like a dog all morning, it was green, minging man.

That’s the Devil work, that’s the Devil creeping up on you, trying to get a hold of you, to work for him. It’s the Devil’s drug, it’s not God’s, I know that. God wouldn’t have put heroin on the streets, or coke, or any drug whatsoever.

Jason , Union Street

Article in collaboration with Glasgow Street Life https://www.facebook.com/GlaStreetlife/ )