The goal of this site is simple, to find kindness in the world, and establish connection through the act of clarity that comes with meditating on human connection and sobriety, peace, joy, and serenity.

This site is a tool to facilitate the act of seeing clearly, written by hands that used to serve misery.

Thank you, your compliment and reading this means the world to me, for explanation I have paranoid schizophrenia, narcissistic personality disorder, bipolar II-manic/depressive rapid cycling, depression, anxiety, hydrocepholus, narcissistic personality disorder suffering from alcoholism, drug addiction, alcoholic. with OCD and PTSD- was addicted to heroin, meth, crack, alcohol, cocaine, prescription pills. I am drug addict/alcoholic/dual diagnosis/ex-criminal/ex-homeless vagrant who is writing instead of committing crime on the street corners of this country or the voice of the drug epidemic screaming on here instead of tweaking and shooting heroin on a corner while holding a sign and waiting for my man.

Characters thus far



Damien de Soto

Rei Clearly

All characters are me, or my pen names, or my imaginary friends, or my split personalities, dramatized fictionalized, scape goats, captive in my mind.

The paranormal level paranoia of the paranoid annoyer

I just told people the truth so now I am going to die, I just told people the truth so now I have to STAB OUT BOTH MY EYES

I don’t know why I do this…

Because you love death’s kiss… ****

I don’t though really? Do I?

Yes, clearly…

My heart is pounding really fast… and I feel like I am going to crash into everything around me and I am dying but that is not real and I feel like I want.

Jump into a moving car.

I am very far away from reality, circling a



Dying human stain…. remove remove remove

remove remove me… from this..

You think this is going to work don’t you?




In the darkness of night, no one can really see me, because I am not there at all, I am death’s call, I am the act of stall. I am the toll of the bell of the night, I am the activity of a dying fight, I am the passing of anxiety, I am the feeling dying slowly like everyone else, I am cares cast away on a shelf where they can’t touch me, because I am far away, they can’t touch you dumb*** they don’t know where you are… and aren’t interested in you and you are just trying to write to save you from drinking what is wrong with that?


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