I no longer know what the goal of the site is, I write horror fiction, and love letters to myself.

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

Explanation: I am Damien, I speak to my split personality Amanda. I am two people in love with each other, and I am okay with that now.

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-homeless person.

Characters thus far



Damien de Soto

Rei Clearly


First person

Blog post style

Dark horror fiction

Through dark horror fiction I rake the muck of the lives of street addicts.

Or in plain English this is an epic poem/novel about addiction told about low bottom addicts in horror style.

The nature of being, being human, and stepping out of a world of dark infestation

“Man is the vainest of all creatures that have their being upon earth.”

Homer, The odyssey

I used to live in the woods, really I did. I spent an entire 8 months in the Oregon dunes, somewhere and everywhere in Oregon. I lived there and survived by clamming, and panhandling for food money, and don’t feel bad for me, I made 200 dollars a day, so very promptly after getting there, I developed a nasty attraction to bitter rocks that ate a hole through my hands and my soul.

They chased me to California. I walked there, I think I mentioned that before, high as a kite, I flew on the feet of the dragon, and the wings of fallen dreams to the state of California, with an angel of mercy sent to me whose name ironically was Chris, he sang like a bird the entire way. He was a beautiful singer. My arrogance and pride caused me to walk away, literally from one of the kindest human beings I have ever met in my life, without even saying goodbye. He screamed after me, and I ran, fleeing kindness for California, where I would meet what I was running to, an empire of pain on the sullied streets, I thought I desired so much. I am sorry Chris, you were kind to me, and I should have at least said goodbye.

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