It’s not going to be a good weekend. The beta blockers are not holding the stress of the occasion back. I saw my solicitor yesterday and she couldn’t give me the news I wanted to hear. She doesn’t want to inspire false hope and I respect her for that. I don’t know why I’m even bothering to waste money hiring her. I am capable of defending myself but I am of course too emotionally involved to do a good job.
I would woffle and go off course for sure. I would tell them of my let downs and my heartaches and the last thing I can do is criticise the victim. I don’t want to any way. This is all my fault.
I’m so very scared of going to jail. I’m not made for jail. I’m slightly effeminate, not gay, but I have no doubt that the boys in there would like me. I’ve been told to take as much money as I can carry which I will use for protection.
From what I’ve been told NG has been told by the Police that I’ll go to hospital. This is doubtlessly helping her continue with my prosecution, thinking I would get help. That won’t happen and it’s so hard to resist trying to get this very important piece of information to her. I will be remanded in custody if I make any attempt to contact her directly or indirectly. I don’t think she would proceed if she knew the truth.
But then maybe I’m still looking at her through rose-tinted spectacles. She know’s this is a 2nd conviction with a very good chance of me going to jail but she did it anyway. I didn’t visit her, or go looking for her, or threaten her. But I was drunk when the crucial email came from her releasing me and I reacted by tauntingg her instead of thanking her like I should. I’ve not touched alcohol since that night.
I just loved her too much, as always, to an unhealthy extent. On Tuesday we will see just how unhealthy for me that will be.