Category: Joy de Soto
It was this guy ranting about how prison doesn’t sound that bad
- Free food
- Free TV
- Free tablets
- Free internet
- Free place to live
I thought it was hilarious, but then was immediately grasped at the neck by anxiety and asked her why she was showing it to me.
I hate being schizophrenic, I have done nothing that would cause me to worry about this, but that is my instant reaction. I hate being insane. I didn’t snap at her. Small steps.
The late hours of the night are so much more peaceful now, thank you God.
I am so grateful to be sitting here, able to get up without people thinking I am going into the bathroom to fire heroin into my arm, I am thankful they are seeing a change in me, because I want so bad for my existence to cause no more pain on this planet, than it already has, thank you God and to anyone who has helped me in any of this.
I am elated to be in the quiet of my house with my family sleeping soundly instead of killing themselves of me killing me, and me being pissed because I think they are being selfish for not wanting my arms to stop being covered with sleeves in the summer when I hate long sleeves but I am cold all the time, no longer.
I am so grateful for this. I am able to type right now instead of having a bed time like a child because I am no longer in a shelter.
I am so happy.
I am not a nice guy, there is nothing redeemable about me, really that I can think of other than pen and sword, I am a really horrible, despicable creature. I feel that way anyway. I always hated being asked anything because as much as I hate to lie, because I don’t want to, I am so good at it, and I am so used to.. I just know how to do that, and only that, and I just can’t do it anymore, I want more than anything else to be better, and make up for every spoon that came with poison when I should have never been encouraging my friends to kill themselves, I have lost so many people and felt nothing, and now I feel it all at the same time, and I am so overcome with the whole thing, and I don’t know what to do because I am not depressed, I am happy, just terrified that I will ruin everything.
So, I will just move forward, but it is so hard, because I hate myself for every life I cost in active addiction every person I have enabled instead of stopping, they were my friends, how can I do this if I couldn’t stop thinking of me for one second and say stop doing what is killing you.
BECAUSE YOU WERE MAKING MONEY OFF THEM. ADDICT LIAR
I know, I just. I…. am a piece of trash, and I don’t… I want to..
I am.. nothing. I have nothing. I am so sorry, I am so sorry.
I love everyone now. I am so sorry.
So now it happened during the day while I was awake enough to get my *** up and run with her, mind you I don’t know how the **** we did it. She was watching me, while I was on here, and I didn’t know it. I was posting things online for a friend of mine who I help manage her small business, she is an awesome woman. One of the best friends anyone could ask for. She also knows a lot about antiques and vintage everything. Anyway, so I am sitting here e·mersed in trying to find things, looking through other peoples written work, whatever… I don’t know and I can feel her looking at me, she has this eerie way of looking through me, as if she can see into my soul, and I got weird about it, made some sort of strange face, and I think we switched bodies for a second, you know like that stupid movie from the seventies not the movie with Lohan, but the original one?
Yeah, I remember, Damien.
Cool you heard me. I was freaking out so I thought it be nice to say hi.
She looked at me and I felt her feelings, I felt how she was afraid in the same way I am afraid of her, that she was afraid of me, not liking her… that her introversion was my introversion and it was only a second, but I feel like I know her so much better, I trust her completely. She is like me 2.0, wow… narcissism…
The soul of a woman lost sometimes pays a great cost, she loses those around, they disappear in lacking sound, she then begins to smack in a self attack at her courage which she lack already sent to fuel the fires of many, she is a deadly prescription, eating pain in this fiction and I sent to her an inscription that was a secret self infliction being a reminder in clear of her addiction to fiction speaking through lies and despise and now she cries with shut eyes
Oh woe is me, I cannot see, I am blinded by thee that I set against friend. I am at bitter end of life, I am riddled with riddling strive, I am hard cutting knife of pain, I am the disdain of acid rain. I am polluting soul attacking self. I am bottle staring into depths of hell. I am the idea of dwell I am the swell of crashing wave I am the man you did forsake I am the idea of take take take
I am losing
I am melting
I am feeling the effect of dealing pain
I am a retching ball of lack’s attack
I am the idea of getting sacked for doing
I am the failure to be human being
Stop that’s too mean.
Don’t shout, silly!
I am hyper because I drank coffee!
No one can hear me now anyway because I am home alone!
You are a child.
So are you.
So that was supposed to be an insult?
Then why get mad when I say it back.
I look into the eyes that though stark, like dilated pupil say learner
I die later, not now you fool.
I mean not to insult
In sult we sulk
When we can be oh!
A realization of hey I can go!
Outside, away from pain and lie
I do not need to sit and cry
That act is a foolish lie
I have inside a child’s eye.
I am the real sensation that you have been lied to all your life by yourself
You are not alone. I love you because you are a human being.
Love yourself please
The world needs you
You are special because you are the only you
You are the key to your wildest dreams
That will be missed if you let fear defeat you
We, I, everyone needs you to be you
I am there
we are there
Torsion I am the spinning eye of chaos spy
The spark in the dark
I am a pain addicted disease, that is brought to it’s knees by people who defend friends.
I am a phone call made to save a friends life.
I am the power of love.
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I think it thinks it’s a pain atm?
This is just stupid.
It really likes breaking language.
Of course it does, it’s addicted to its own
Don’t let it hit you were it hurts. Be decent don’t worry about the past. Make it up by living now. I think that is ow you battle this thing.
This is freaking fun.
It just tried to type fun as gun,
You don’t have hands
Neither do you.
Was that you or it.
This thing is like patheticness incarnate.
The heart of a woman is deep, like an ocean, its waters, cool, delight, chill, numb, dancing on the skin of those who love them, sometimes they even speak to those like them, who stand on risen ladder, and paint back the colors of the sky onto the faces of the decaying cry
For the heart of man, that exists in the chaotic nothingness that are the heavily trafficked highways of anonymity, it is such an honor to paint with the colors of love back the bright light of hope onto the tragic messages that chant to those of the anonymous pounding highways that radiate through the channels of the night.
In rare times, like this one, my eyes are drawn up, to a fellow human who with desire for kindness paints back colors of joy on the face of a fellow, sensing moral decay, she says stay and do not cry because I can be the guiding eye of light, woman strong possessing forces you don’t know a dancing creator of beauty sent to paint on the highways of nothingness pictures that remember humanity in its bright childhood color.
You tell of flowers brushing my cheek. Of kindergarten, of hugs and love and mothers and sisters and aunts who save lives, what color do your soul speak in brave one? How do you gather courage to take such a stand against the fall of chaotic man.
I want to know who he is, and this is where he spends most of his time, so I thought I could find out who he is, through what he writes so gradually I read this whole thing, since I got here. I am really glad I did, because I have always felt so alone in the world, a lot of my thoughts are his, I am more like him than my mother, and I usually feel bad for not being like her, but I didn’t know I was like him. I thought I was unique and alone in that. I am such a stupid stereotype. It’s so cool though, now when I hear that read in my lonely head, I hear it said in his voice. I am so glad they are my parents, I don’t think anyone else could like me.
I really like them. I am just not going to tell them that to their faces because I think my dad might cry and I won’t embarrass him like that. That would be weird and uncomfortable for everyone.
I think I just realized while sitting on my bed while my daughter sleeps in the next room that I am truly insane because I was addicted to my own misery, which I think was just coming in the form of a medication I was prescribing myself in the form of the consumption of certain things I used to use.
What are you saying, weirdo?
That me and you were eating our own death on silver spoons dished out by resentment in a hotel called in Misery?
Isn’t that in a land in callous form?
You mean California?
Either that or in the Simple Rewards that come from those dishing out false hopes through hands of those fleeing asylum from the crimes being enacted to perpetuate Misery through the hands of American’s stealing the joy of those making illicit substances in other countries.
So this is all about drug use and lying to yourself?
Well that and drinking to forget the stress of waiting for the man.
“You guys okay?”
“Yes, sunshine. How was your walk?”
“Good, your daughter saw something weird. A bird was in a cage on the ground, there was no one around, so I don’t think it belonged to anyone but it was in there, screaming to be let out. I think it was sad and hungry and lonely.”
“So when you let it out, did it sing?”
“Yes, and it is creepy when you guys do that.”
“You should tell your daughter, how the caged bird sings.”
“It sings like me, when I am talking to you.”
“Oh, and Amanda you sound like me when talking about your version of Deborah or Diane.”
You mean she who will be revealed later?
Yes, fear itself.
I think both me and Amanda just realized again together that we are delusional psych patients that bring about our own fears by drinking and using out of resentment.
Spiritual awakening number 2, Damien.
My wife likes me.
I wish I had a wife that liked me.
some weed and got in trouble because I think it had something else in it and now I know why my dad said no. I think I am doing way better at it then he does, because I am just having fun, not going around killing people or ruining the lives of women who are stupid enough to talk to some asshole standing outside in alley’s in the middle of the night. I struggle to see why my mom likes him sometimes, but others I get it. He doesn’t talk to me much because I think he is worried about saying the wrong thing, which I can understand because I have read stuff on here and most of what he says is the wrong thing.
It’s wearing off. Nice. That was easy.
I think I’ll try again later. Oh yeah. I am writing this on something he reads, damn you hereditary scizophrenia…… I can’t spell it either…..
We all sound sort of similar, it makes me feel better, sometimes….
But, mostly it makes me feel like a lame ass nerd who missed out on when my parent’s were actually cool.
Hi, I haven’t spoke to you yet, my father finally left, I kind of like him I guess, he’s weird and quiet. I am actually not sure if I have talked to you before, I might have in the earlier stages of this blog, none of us are that good at continuity, narrator included. Her and my father both wash their hands too much. They are always bleeding. They say it is because of winter, but it’s not that cold out. I am not stupid, I know it is the whole guilt thing, and I know about the past of my father, I don’t really know what to think of the whole thing, I am kind of put off by the whole in recovery thing, he seemed more fun from stories of when they used to get drunk high, I figured I would write that on here, so he could read it and I don’t have to say it.
I am not used to talking to other people, or it doesn’t feel like I am. I am not sure what the driving force behind my family’s weird amnesia thing, and I don’t buy the narrator in the sky bullshit, it sounds like a bunch of crap. I also wonder if they are just lying to me and still having fun behind my back. Not that I was ever part of that part of their life, I just kind of think it sucks to be in the weird sort of you never get to try it territory, just because they couldn’t handle their shit, doesn’t mean I can’t. What do you think of that guys? 😛
I am kind of an antagonist sometimes, I just want to see if they are going to respond. I like having someone care about me even if it’s two culty seeming lame clean sober ex-whatever they call themselves, they are a little too god freaky for me.