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.
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.
Category: paranoid schizophrenic
I just made myself laugh for five seconds, that is most of the reason for this post.
I don’t know why we think the world is going to fall apart continuously.
I think it is because it was falling apart for so long.
Good point, but it isn’t anymore right?
It feels like it is still, so is it or is it not?
It isn’t, it just feels like it. Did you ever think it was slightly strange to worry about punctuation while doing this to yourself?
My mother is the most supportive person in my life, she is the one of the ways I even figured out I was transgender to begin with, she knew before I did, and when I was very depressed after quitting drugs and alcohol, she talked to me about the whole thing and helped by listening to me talk about how I felt. She didn’t suggest anything, just listened, actively and asked me questions, and I figured out the reason I was drinking and using had a lot to do with trauma from having hydrocephalus and various traumatic things like my house burning down, etc. and the fact that I was not accepting who I was.
I literally said out loud to her,
how I am going to be with men if I can’t forget who I am, and pretend to be a girl?
She helped me realize that one of the reasons I used, one, not the only one, was that I was denying who I was.
The woman referred to in the archives of this site as Diane, is my mother, who is with her husband for the weekend at the ocean. She is my best friend, the only one who stuck with me through my insanity and drug and alcohol chaos. I hope to talk to her soon, because the morning is awkward without her. We usually hang out in the morning and make eachother laugh. I thought of a couple jokes that only she will get.
And now this.
I am a bird with a song, and I sing for you, I am up all day long, doing what birds do, I sing not for you, but for them, but it makes no difference, if you listen all day long, I sing with relentlessness.
I am a word used in a weird way.
That’s really corney.
I know, but I have that 70’s song in my head.
I know that already. I feel better after sleeping, how about you?
You are a jerk.
So are you.
Roll the die, I will bet we get a better roll, we the one with two souls, make it good, make it quick, maybe this time, the idea will stick, that we are one, but we are two, and we get one roll, not four or two.
I am standing blaming you, blaming them, blaming something higher, blaming something below me on fire, blaming circumstance, blaming the wind, maybe one day I will begin to win, but not today, snake eyes now, maybe I should just stop staring down, get my **** eyes off the ground.
The chase is on, I am running in front, running in front of cars and running in the light of day, I am addicted to being chased by death, I am running right and left, I am playing with the idea of time theft. They are plunging towards me as I get high on the idea of roll the die.
Roll the dice, baby, color by number,
I am running towards the idea of death, I am chasing after the idea of theft of life, I am chasing the idea of dying, I am leaving the idea of trying.
Nihilism, nihilism, nihilism, I love you so,
Oh, nihilism, I will never let you go.
I am the act of rolling under, roll the die, baby, I am the act of die, die, die.
I am chaos incarnate..
Do you chase death?
In the blink of an eye, I make the woman in the passenger seat cry, she is looking at the driver’s seat cry, what are they doing…. I have no idea why?????
I am the act of dog in a human being.
Hydrocephalus, how I hate thee.
My head is always below water, that lives around my brain, slowly drowning me in my own disdain, and driving me slowly, insane.
In sickness, with quickness, I am.
In quickness, with sickness, I stand.
I am bound to a form, I am married to a form, I can’t stand.
Heroine, Heroine, where fore art thou, heroine.
I am retired, because my physical form is on fire.
I am on fire because my fire is from a physical form, I loathe, not just for reasons expected, but because of things undetected as of yet.
Heroin, heroin, how I miss thee Heroin.
In sickness, I miss, contents of top shelf.
In, health, I am still in Hell, even though I am told, oh well, you are well, yeah well I feel like ****.
I just thought that was a funny title, I like plays on words. I have been in a *****y mood because of chronic pain, from arthritis in my hands, it runs in my family and is made worse by me typing like a lunatic, and also the amputations of the tip of my thumb, part of my middle and index finger, that is due to heroin, meth and alcohol abuse.
I also have had probably 20 revisions of a VP shunt because I have hydrocephalus, so I am getting used to my normal pain level while not doing meth, heroin or drinking. I have never been sober/clean in my adult life, so I apologize for my continuous neurosis, complaining.
Explanation: This is a journal style entry full of negativity or negative self-talk that I am trying to write out of my head, read with that in mind, do not read if you cannot handle dark horror dramatized fiction.
This is for you baby, you make me insane, you live in my brain, oh voice of disdain, making fun of voice of complain, you are mean, but succeed in drain, drain, drain, all pain from me, so I guess I can thank ya, right? Yeah, right…
My hands hurt, my head hurt, and my brain hurts, so I have spent the entire day in bed feeling sorry for myself ansd watching television, and just got sick of my relentless whining enough to make jokes about it on the internet, because it makes my own resentment, or the voice of every person I have dated, shut the **** up, if I do it to myself instead.
That is the explanation for the plot of the story that is my life, talking at myself or to myself to stop the screaming of my brain at myself.
That good enough for you, *****???
Hope so, maybe then I will be able to chill the **** out.
Hahaha, it is kind of funny now though, the relentless pile of verbal trash I hurl at my own face…
For once, in my life
Let me be what I want to be
You do not win, you are not free, you live with us, with her and me, you do not win, you are not free. There is not one there are two of us, you do not kill the both of us. You can stay, but so can we.
You have to go.
Why don’t you ask her, honey? Why don’t you, huh? She doesn’t want you.
I don’t want you, and it is my choice who leaves and who stays, it is my mind, I am not her slave. Why do you think you were the voice of resentment?
See, I am not the ****ing bad guy, for ****ing once, it is clear I am not the ****ing bad guy. Thank you.
What was that?
I can hit below the belt too, that is what that was.
I guess so, thank you.
Okay, I guess that is all I have to say.
I am faceless, I am formless, I am forlorn, I am reality scorned, by hating my face, my human forn, I am tearing, wearing, blarring, self-hatred, eating at my own skin, I am resent, everything I am, the skin I am in.
I am screaming chaotic soul tearing of the form I am wearing, and forced to be in. I am loving something higher, but hating me, I am resentment meant specifically at me, I am why won’t she let me be.
You are pathetic, you are weak, you all that….
SHUT THE **** UP. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be the one who feels like you are divorced from your own human form???! Do you really? Do you think I am the lucky one? Do you really? I don’t think you do, because if I was you, I would sound just as pathetic as you do.
Yeah, I know I win.
I am a ghost, and you can see me, I exist in blank space, so wonderous and free, you envy me, but I envy you, you have hands made of matter, and I wish I was you.
You don’t like your form, but at least that you have, I do not have earthly hands, and for that I am sad.
If I was you, sir, I would take great care, because what it is like to have no form, of that I am aware, I wander this hall, where I lay trapped, and chased by other formless spirits, I remain attacked, I am a ghost, took my life, yes I did, I was afraid to live life with my kid. I was once human, but commited suicide, now I wish, I had done anything but die.
I am a warning, a sad tale, I am, I took my life, and now here I stand, I regret doing what I did with my life, now I pace back and forth, a victim of strife, I am a warning, to not do the same, I wish I hadn’t, my life was my claim, I took my life, and exist only as me, I am not a judgement of those like I see. I am only a statement, to you
I am a statement to look twice before you leave, you cannot take it back, when your hands attack your own form, I wish I could, now I am forlorn, so please think twice, and don’t act rash, I killed myself, and now live in the backlash.
They spoke to me, I talked to rocks, to stones, to pillars, to rock formations, which are not usually talkers, but this time they were, on that hill, that day with her.
Telling their story, they spoke quite softly, they talked at night, and quite darkly. They spoke of death and of loss they had seen, they spoke in voices, like in a dream. It was quite strange, and out of place, being reality, and not dream space, they spoke to me, and told a story, it was of magic, and not gory, not like the other stories, that I already knew, and so I sat, and knew not what to do.
I dare not wake her, lest make them made, she woke anyway, and I felt bad, why must she miss all I see, she was asleep and in a dream.
I am the rose dancer, I am a be, I am a rose dancer, I aim to be. I am rose dancer I am two bees, I am a rose dancer, I aim to please.
I am an object, I am not. I am resentment, my creator is not, the person writing this story, although their hand types its words. I am realization not to spew hate with words.
I am representation of everything my creator is not, I am self-assertion, realizing there is a god.
I think if anything I am learning that I actually have a heart, which is why I have been complaining as much as I have, which has helped me learn about myself. I use this thing to do that, so to anyone reading this, I am genuinely sorry for the level of negativity that comes out of my brain and is reflected back on the computer screen, and through the waves of the internet.
I am small
I am not really here at all
I am a box containing excuses
It is not my intention to get attention, or views or anything, simply to learn who I am, after removing all toxicity.
I have learned more than anything recently, how much I want very simply to become a better human being, and try to find someone who is not toxic or many people, mainly friends who are doing the same.
My sincerest apologies,
Without you my life is hell, and though I live to tell, I can tell you I am quite unwell, I only talk to myself, and dream of bottles no longer on my shelf, and dirty pinging needles, and rocks that taste like batteries, it is quite sad, being this mad…
I have realized now I am insane, and that it was not my disdain for you that caused me to want to leave you there crying on my arm chair, playing with your pretty dark hair, you are on my brain, my mind, at the tip of my tongue, because I realize that I do not miss being spun as much as I miss fun.
My heart did beat for you once, and became slightly inflamed, fighting narcissism and posion in my veins.
For now I am alone, and maybe someday will bring myself out of myself, and finally use a phone to call someone other than myself.
I loved her so very much, I decided to treat her poorly.
So in love with black and white, you are, you are my shooting star, you are everything to me, I love you so clearly, so dearly, you are everything that I ever wanted, and needed, please stay always my
I loved her so very much, I decided.
To treat her poorly, was not my intention, and of it I make mention to mention why, I treated her
My treat is to retreat.
I am a coward.
She was mean to me.
I am coward, and did not want to see.
You are an addict.
You are a liar.
I hold a lamp shinning on your soul, alight with HELL FIRE.
I am sitting on the floor, waiting for my shot of sun, you are above me, having so much fun. You went first, what a surprise, you are so very good at becoming the objectification of despise, oh sweet master, you are the apple of my eye. You hold the key to my heart baby, in injectable poision.
I stare at a spindle, no I stare at you, I love you so much, what are we to do?
I am not sure why you didn’t come with me, baby. I thought you wanted to go, but you decided at the last minute to stay behind. I think it is okay, you seem to have gone through the same mental changes, so it does not matter that you didn’t go, so don’t feel bad.
I am sorry, I was on pause, I got scared. I was not able to..
To bring yourself to admit weakness? And you thought I was?
I am looking at you, but seeing only me, because I am bitterness reflected, back from eyes that are stained with tearing at myself, bitterness encased in toxic casing which is the current shell I am placed in.
I hate myself, but hated you, because you in some way reflected me too, but that is my problem, even now, I am trying to realize this, and come down, from the pedestal I placed myself on, where I sit alone, and rambling on, about how nothing was my fault.
Is that really how it was, selfish ***hole? No, it wasn’t.
I was addicted to heroine
I was addicted heroin.
I was addicted to heroine
I was addicted heroin
I forever, always and forever, and always and forever will be addicted to heroin
Are you talking to me?
Not you, but it yes…
Why? You want?
We are not doing that ever again
If you do I am coming to
That was not an error Amanda, remember what happened sometimes, the act of coming to
I don’t want that because it will make my… our family sad
I know me neither now.
There was a shadow behind you, that I did not recognize every time I looked at you, and I never thought about it before, and even though this is obviously not you, because I would never put a picture of you on the internet, and you were born a guy, so you looked like a guy, the shadow is there, so I used this.
I altered this so I put the shadow there, obviously. I am talking to myself anyway, who cares.
Serve me, please, get on your knees, I am addiction, you are my servant, and I am behind all addicts who fake a smile
I am holographic, and I glow, with your inability to admit that you are the same as someone who used to love, who became addicted to the act of push and shove
She hurt you so badly, did she really, was it really Rei Clearly?
That’s not even her real name, you dirty liar.
I came for her because I come for all addicts too, I am addiction and I am what lives in you all, she didn’t screw you over, she screwed herself, in a worship act of bottle on shelf, needle and spoon, all for myself.
Sound familiar, it really should, you are a hypocrite with nose of wood.
I am cemented in the memory of my author, I am cemented in the creator of this image, I am cemented by the creator of this image.
In cement it lay, and forever will it stay.
I am covered over, an image protected and rejected by protection, destroyed by idolization, a picture of objectification, a picture of self-love.
Are you sure that is not just what you are seeing because you project yourself on your interpretation of it?
I am correct.
I am an attack on human soul, by protection of image which in fact eats everything whole, creating the potential for the whole image to become a hole.
Manilla, Manilla, in Vanilla, Vanilla, now just a stain on my brain, you make me insane.
I don’t think the image…
I know, just rambling because I like to hear myself talk.
You are typing.
I am also whispering this to myself, because I am insane.
I think I would be happier like this, completely alone, talking to myself as my partner.
Hey, isn’t that what we are doing now, and doesn’t it ****?
Than what the **** are you talking about???
That I am insane, and don’t know what else to say, and I am trying to make someone laugh, even if it is just you?
So you are talking to yourself on a blank screen, trying to type things that make you feel good about yourself?
Yeah, isn’t that what the book of faces is???
I don’t think anyone on that thing is looking in a mirror talking to their own face as if it is another person?
They aren’t? That is what it looks like to me.
That is because we are insane, and it is not what they are doing, because they are not insane.
For us or them.
Well, mostly them.
Why?? Not what I expected to hear…
Because, we never have to be truly alone.
Or, we are always more alone than anyone ever.
Other than maybe Gollum on Lord of the rings.
Isn’t it lovely, isn’t it great?
So sorry baby, I can’t relate, I am addicted to madness, to pain and slow death, that is what I have been given.
I call it time theft.
This is my life which I was given, from the time I was born, ticking time clock was ticking. I am to be thankful, I am to be glad, I am to serve everyone, because there lives are sad, I am to shut up, I am to be down.
I am to always smile, only laugh, never frown.
I am to speak kindly.
I am sorry that I cannot do, I hate everything around, sorry, baby even you.
I want different cards, or I want to quit playing. I tried all my life in every way, to quit playing, every attempt came with failure, and people glad I was alive, while I sat like always wanting to off my life.
Label me chaos,
I am a game of chicken played in red and blue, not green, but blue.
I don’t know what to do, except scream, because I don’t want any of this, never did, never will, and no matter how much I try, I am not allowed to quit playing.
Label me doubt, label me contention, because I love to scream and shout. I love the human word, because I in perpetual fight to be not heard, because you know what I really don’t care.
Label death, they already did, at eight, already dead, ticking, ticking, so thankful, so grateful, so sad, too bad, already gone, gone, gone.
I lived my whole entire life, on rock bottom from eight to now, on gravel, and sometimes jagged rock, crawling up. I was born with something, for those who do not know that gave me a life expectancy of 21.
21, 21, 21
Wish sometimes, that I had lost not won.
My life is all silver linings, and people say I should be thankful, greatful, for what, more time than 21 years?
Because I am somehow supposed to be thankful to have less time than most people???
Gravel. I am so fond of you. I know everything about every curvature, every outline, of the pleasant rocks at the bottom of the path that is my life, which I went off, because I am sorry…
I don’t like cutting my feet on rocks very much.
My whole is not my fault. I was scre… can’t even sarcastically say this, this is insane, not true, ****.
I am blame.
I am not at fault.
It was fate from the very start, I have done nothing wrong, my whole life, Hell’s theme song.
I am such a bad liar.
My hand! My hand!
It’s got to be my hand, my hand, because I am missing my finger tips on three fingers, my thumb, my right one, the right one, the one I used to write with, not I type with… that has to be the reason that I failed, lived a life of ship has sailed, clearly not that I jumped off, long ago.
Your hand happened, our hand happened when we were 32, you are 36, four years was not all the ruining we did…
You said we, not just you…
I know, I feel sorry for you sometimes.
I know stupid, I am good at that.
Wow, that is disgusting don’t type that…
Oh I know, I thought that too, I am always right behind you.
That is creepy as all Hell.
Guess, what it got us.
It is just as well.
He told me something
Spoke so clearly, told me that he loved me dearly, he had such a beautiful voice, so I felt like I had no choice, but to make him
CRY CRY CRY
I love you sweetheart, hope you
You are part of an empire of chaotic obsession with death that seeks the theft of youth by making them afraid of the idea of truth, so they stick themselves with
PINS AND NEEDLES
Sowing into themselves cushioning, that cuts out everything they are, everything they were before, making them sure of nothing other than that they need endless replenshiment of something that is not food, not water, not shelter, or warmth but
GIVE ME MORE LOVE
I am the act of shove, I am the act of push, I am take everything you have.
I am addiction, I am all consuming, I am ever entombing, I will eat your
Of your shoe because your real soul belongs only to you, please
Sometimes, at times, in times, all the time, always and forever, they
I am the green machine
I am envy
I am mean
I am looking at all you lack
I am condescending soul attack
Blend together, not the right word, I am so unheard, absurd, painted, re-done, unspun, spinning, spinning down down down down
Talk to me, sweety, talk to me nice, I am extendeeeeeeeeeeeeddddddddd
I go back back back
Walk through the thoughts of the dark
I am a polaroid from Hell, that is where I stay and it is just as well….
Well, well, well,
Not doing so good are you?
I color your world with the colors of Disease, Damien, I color your world with the colors of everything your soul lacks, everything that will cause your eventual failure.
Everything that makes you feel small.
I am the voice of Hell and I am the loudest sound of all.
When I was followed by the glowing light that illuminated the night, street lights that would light up as I past them
I don’t know why or how, just simply that they would blink on and off and off and on
Cover me in purple mirth
I am the fuel of nightmares.
I dream of horses
I dream of horses
I dream in color
I dream of another
I live in bile, I live in Hell, I live in forever under dark dispell.
Come back to me baby, don’t let it drive you crazy………………
On and on and on and on always and forever
always and forever
forever and always
Always and never.
″‘Precious, precious, precious!’ Gollum cried. ‘My Precious! O my Precious!’ And with that, even as his eyes were lifted up to gloat on his prize, he stepped too far, toppled, wavered for a moment on the brink, and then with a shriek he fell. Out of the depths came his last wail precious, and he was gone.”
J.R.R. Tolkein The Return of The King
Do you see you?
I see me too.
Put me in, try me on, I make everything easy.
I make life, black and white.
I make every fight yours.
Always and forever
You are the winner
Always and forever
And so we go, below….
I put things in that make my caring spread thing.
I put things in that make me want nothing else, except my own needs fulfilled to have my precious needs fullfilled.
I put on airs to make me not care when you touch me that way because it brings me closer to getting what I want, my precious…. my precious…..
I did this weird meditation thing, so this reads like hypnotic thought:
This partially PTSD flashbacks that happened during a thunder storm.
I am here, but I am not, I am here, but I am caught, I hear you, but I don’t, I exist, but I won’t ever be quite as exactly here, as you, whatever I do, I am not exactly where you are. I exist very far, far away, and also always right next to whoever I am next to. I am next to you, but I am not, I exist, but I can’t exist the way you think I can, we are never exactly in the same place.
I am right where I am, sort of, kind of, but I also exist distantly extended throughout space, drifting faceless, over many different times, many different places, that I have been throughout time. I see them all simultaneously.
I am drifting, drifting, drifting.
I am over and over split between places, parts of me, everywhere I have ever been, spread thin, spread out, far from each other, peices lost throughout the universe.
Access to running water
Safe place to sleep
Waking up to seeing my family
Access to coffee, nicotine, and food
In a tunnel in California, I am reminded of my friend, who had traveled the world, and given everything to a woman, who wasted it all before wasting away herself.
She was addicted to heroin, ironic because she was his heroine herself, dying tragically of cancer, while he paid to ease her suffering, not caring that she was spending all of his money, he only cared that he was doing whatever she asked.
I saw so much suffering out there, so much pain, I was so used to it, it is still hard to see anything else. I look for it even now, as I write this to you, but I am starting to open my eyes, and be able to see clearly, they have been shut a long time….
I have chased myself around this house, all around, up and down
Up and down and
In and out
Of this house
With a doubt
In perpetual doubt.
I am vastly incompetant.
I am light
I am not light but the perpetual ing
I not God.
I am not lightning
Not divine, just human being running all the time towards realization
I am not God, just sad human being, that had an addiction to power, and lived in chaos, finding peace in letting go of reigns and watching the rain with peace.
Are you claiming to be a god?
No, I am saying I was doing what the universe told me to.
I pushed a fox out of hole, and he died because I am selfish, or was anyway, I think someone ate him.
The streets of this country are riddled with screaming, every street corner, ever cover of darkness, is surrounded by the screaming criers of the night, who scream in languages only some can understand.
They talk to me, clearly, not her name, but meaning I understand them, and they speak to me in plain English, because that is the language of the country I am in, unofficially.
We talk of survival, not manipulation, but survival, of who is the best person to ask for money, who will likely hand over a dollar, I am good at this, good at awkward prolonged eye contact, I help them, my fellow nightcriers.
I miss them dearly, clearly, not her name, **** her name.
They are just like everyone else, except their lives have been riddled with danger, and because they are addicts they used or drank about it, and the judgement of others, bothers me endlessly.
That is a very strange way of saying my birthday is in 2 days.
I was born when you were 8.
Negativity, negativity, you so very dear to me, so very near and clear to me, so inviting, because I like to bite myself.
This is about crows not dogs.
It is about condescending ***holes too.
It stopped doing it, and I don’t know what that other happy sounding bird is… it is less intelligent I think…
That was ****ing mean.
I was not talking to you.
I was talking about you being mean to the bird.
You are the speaker of the birds?
The birds speak for themselves.
Not anymore, they are quiet right now.
That is because you are an ***hole.
No, it is because morning is coming to a close slowly.
I made the birds pretty, and now they are singing again outside because like I said it is the end of morning.
Where do you run?
If it kills me, it kills me.
If it kills me, I am stronger.
If it kills you, you are dead, and it won’t kill you, it has no hands.
It has a hand in my death.
That is because we let it.
I run in Hell, well Misery but same thing, a spiritual pergatory of nothingness, of absence, that is what it is, they say in certain texts that the lack of the divine is Hell, that is what Misery is.
What do you run from?
You are the lack of the divine?
I am fear incarnate.
You are a human being experiencing fear, you are not fear or pain or death, but a human being experiencing those things.
That is all? That is all you have? What?
Did I wake you up?
No, I am sitting right there with you, letting you use my hands.
That’s good, thank you. I don’t like being alone.
I am right here.
Yeah, they remind me that I get acid reflux from drinking, because alcoholism has eaten my stomach lining, killed sensation in my hands, and caused my mental illness to get worse.
For realizing that or for destroying myself?
Which one do you think?
I am glad, it was like being at the table alone again in school. I liked it.
You just said that to make people feel bad for you, loser.
No I said that to get you to call your own self a loser, because it is funny.
You just called yourself a loser.
Guess, what I forgot which one of us is talking again.
That is because you are learning to love yourself.
Thank you, Damien.
Yeah, I am.
How do you know?
I can hear you think too, and you are not as bad as you think. I never hated you, and your ex was a jerk, just like mine, because they are the same jerk.
I know they are the same jerk. I just hate myself more.
That is because you are worse at lying than me.
Why is that?
You are more real than me. I am a facade made of stardust.
That makes me sad.
Everything makes you sad.
That one was really mean.
I know, I am sorry.
I keep thinking about all the lies I told to get things that I didn’t need, and all the times I stole from people to get things I didn’t need. I am not okay with it now. Like even the simplest thing of holding a sign when I could have worked.
Could you really have worked? You spend half your day talking to yourself out loud or crying…
I am serious… I don’t think you have as much to feel guilty about as you think. You were just an addict.
Is that how you feel about you?
No, I hate myself too.
We are the same person, and I tricked you.
I miss a lot of things
Looking at the ground to make sure
I will not trip
I am talking to me.
I am talking to me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The narrator hates themself.
The narrator needs to calm down.
The narrator hates themself.
Okay I feel better.
But really looking for rocks
Or darts to toss
In the trash, because you know it is my goal to
FOCUS ON EVERYTHING THAT KILLS ME
Stop it man, seriously.
Why? I am done anyway.
You are helping me,
You are me, but you are also not, and you are helping me.
Thank you self.
Daily writing prompt
If you could be a character from a book or film, who would you be? Why?
Will Parry, from the Phillip Pullman Series The Golden Compass Series in the The Subtle Knife, I would want to be Will Parry if he wasn’t a whining ****. That is what I would do differently. I would not feel sorry for myself like he did, or I have done, just simply exist alongside Lyra as a non-whiner. I am going to try to do that in my own life instead, alongside myself or whatever they want to call themselves.
Aggression UNNECESSARY ***HOLE.
It’s not aggression, just intensity.
The inner turmoil of Will Parry in this book always bothered me, because I wondered how much of the awesome world he lives in was being missed, while he was crying over what he had done, which is very ironic…
I am dumb
Look at me
I am dumb
I can’t see
Just spilled soup all over my hands, so obviously that is everyone else’s fault not mine… hahahaahahah.
Guess who is still winning….
Jab. Ow. You got me. I was trying to talk to you anyway.
I am glad, I was having fun watching you burn yourself, and felt bad about it.
I know, I am having issues, I think it is just what my brain does.
Having a hard time being alone?
I am too.
Is that why you are talking to yourself on a dark screen?
Isn’t that what you are doing?
Then why am I an ***hole?
Because I hate it when you are right
You hate being right? I love being right.
That is why I am friends with myself.
I am the Crow 2.
I am the crow too.
I am the crow to, as well, as an adjective of a human being who steals from other human beings while they are not looking.
I am the crow, two
There are two of me.
Penny for your thoughts?
No I am sparring not sparing change.
I am disdain, acid reign, wishing for soul washing rain.
I am the horrors of walking next to an active user.
I am the non-heroic heroin user.
I am resentment of past action.
I am true admissions of a soul attacking soul attacker
I am hopefully getting over this.
I am actively seeking forgiveness.
I know this comes from something higher.
But I am more comfortable crucifying myself.
I am more comfortable doing this to myself.
I need help.
I have no tent, because I can fly so high, that I need not sleep, because I am high as Hades.
I am a looter of the looted by life, I am the riddler of strife.
I am the stealer of unwatched things, I am heroin addict, unwatched, on meth, stealing while you sleep to buy drugs.
I am the confessions of an ***hole, who is no longer on drugs.
I loved you once, but now I can’t and I don’t want to, so I don’t
I loved you multiple times, and still do, and I am just trying to be honest with you
Hey, ***hole, you’re talking to a glass.
I think I have a problem with peace, consumed with moving, digging perpetually beneath, unable to stop and not do, wishing always for something new, I can’t sit still, that is why I think I was obsessed with you.
Dragon eating its own tell, possessing nothing was just as well, I live in inner Hell, because I can’t bring myself out sometimes, uncomfortable with peace, living in internal, eternal, infernal mind bind.
I tied my own hands, behind my back, because I feel being free, and love the feeling of under attack.
Living in perpetual lack of self.
Bottled emotions of alcohol on shelf.
I can’t be myself, because myself was built around you, who am I even without the drugs and booze I used to use???
I got up early with you, my friend, the one who I was always fighting against, I realize now I was fighting me, engaged in constant battle of insanity, fighting light to see in dark, fighting vision on quest of mark, I fight you but in so doing, poision applies to skin, and reason spewing out of my mouth and from my head, wishing for life, but fighting the dead.
Questing for sun, but lurking in dark, I am the eternal question mark.
I forgot what I was talking about. Oh, well.
This is about powerlessness, your favorite thing, and water is cleansing.
OoO Look at you, show off.
OoO Look at you show off.
That is mature.
Says the most mature person in the world.
I enjoyed the Easter thing, did you?
I wasn’t there, you were.
Yeah, you were. You were just uncomfortable.
I can tell you are glad you won, stop rubbing my nose in it.
Stop thinking about putting things up your nose then.
I am an orange, I am a door. I am closed, laughing ripping away orange skin on bare floor.
You have severe issues.
So do you, I am you remember?
I don’t have the same issues.
Yes, you do, I am just not lying about mine.
So you think food and water are poison, and drugs and alcohol help you?
I am making fun of myself, because I realize how flawed my thinking is.
Oh, good one?
Do you swim with sharks or dolphins.
I swim alone.
You swim with voices, like always.
SCHISM. ISM. ISM.
I am, misery, I am pain I am a
I am the holder of grudge, and I am lost in this poem.
I like to make images different than are, by covering them in darkness.
Swimming in the water is hard, when it is riddled with sharks.
I am the voice of pain.
I am soul reeking disdain.
Mushrooms are a food that tastes good.
Dancing in light is hard, when you live in the ground.
Rising from the ground can be done over night.
I am a fledgling bird.
The smell of moss lights the way, for those with dirty noses.
Under the stars, is found a world, united with ground, but looking up at the night sky. U
Under the moon, is felt the light of the stars, in blue tones, it paints the ground, with the possibility of future lightning storms, the sound of thunder, and ability to hear and see, when before senseless.
I make golden eggs, with a program that re-renders images, because I have no power other than to play with light… or dark.
I remember everything now, I just had someone drill it out of my head, while getting a root canal on my tooth.
A root canal, that dug into the canal of lies, I told myself that made me out to the victim, in a story that was really just a story of one lying junkie that didn’t want to admit that they had fooled themself into thinking no one else knew that every dollar, I panhandled
Every handout I took went to fund an addiction that made me anything but heroic.
I am so glad to be done, so glad to be me, finally, for the first time in my life.
I am still half, that girl, lets call her Lydia. I think she is okay with that now.
I am because I am really also you.
I know, because I am awesome.
I am awesome too.
I know, because we both are.
Being able to deal with getting a root canal without having to be high or drunk, felt amazing, didn’t realize how much weaker being resigned to a life of lies made me feel, so glad to be done with that now, and finally be a whole human being.
I was blind, my whole life, I was blind lived in self-inflicted strife. I was blind. I was blind. I had no eyes, couldn’t see, I had eyes but they were blacked out, they were blurry, couldn’t see. I was blind couldn’t see. Clearly.
I walked through life, walking slow, walking fast, running away, running to, running from, running with, running, runnning, on nothing, no road, no path, nothing, nothing, nothing.
I was nothing. I was nothing.
I was nothing. I was nothing.
I was with him, I was with you.
I was ran. I was running.
On nothing, with someone who was me, who is me.
I ran to things, towards things, and for things.
Just elation, addicted to derived sensation. Nothing more, nothing less, no crime, just desire to injest.
Do you remember?
Do you remember?
I know right?
I am walking out of a dark cave.
I am the assending assention of the never pretender.
I am kindness’s defender.
She was always trying to convince me that I had done something I had not done, she would tell me that I stole our ****. It was my ****.
Justin would do the same thing, he was sleeping with that lady, and he would give money to her, and then accuse me of stealing it.
She said I did it once because I think she really thought you were cheating on him with a guy named Damien.
Hahahhahahhahahhahahaahahaha! That is insane.
No, the truth is actually insane, Lydia.
You remembered it.
I did it just now.
I heard the door slam. I don’t think I did it, my step dad, he says it was the wind. I think it might have been me. My mother says they were fighting.
I was fighting with Diane at the same time.
You were? Why?
Because she is still getting high, and she was pissing me off, she was accusing me of still getting high, while she was high as Hell. I have been clean and sober as long as you.
I know, loser, I am you.
I know you know that, I just forget sometimes. I think she is trying to drive me insane.
I think you are trying to drive you insane, as a justification to get high.
I think… I think that is probably correct.
I thought it was 10 am, guess my internal clock is off now, oops. Um… huh.. okay, I think is because of the whole root canal thing, which I think I have to get the rest of the thing done tomorrow, or I have something tomorrow? I am not quite sure… I am really confused… really thought it was 10 am… this is weird..
be back soon.. maybe? I have to figure out what my internal clock wants to do now. WEIRD…………….
She’s a family member, and I am Fruedian Slipping, and I am a liar, and the girl I am a part of is Crazy.
You are such a jerk.
I know, but it is called telling the truth, ***hole.
You are the ***hole.
I am telling the truth, so I don’t CARE.
Okay, fine, you can be okay with the fact that you were pretending to be dating my mother, who is your mother.
Ahahahahhahahahah you are a lunatic.
I am Macbeth.
I forgot which one of us is you again.
A child in their teens poses a question in this novel I am reading, that I feel compelled to answer, because I feel it applies to me.
No, Willow. I paid attention in class, I have a MA in Public Policy and graduated with 3.43. I have an minor in philosophy, and my BA is in Political Science, which I graduated with a 3.2 in because I was drinking heavily the whole time.
I paid attention in class, but realized that Political Science caused me to drink and use drugs, but it is the only subject other than fiction and Philosophy that interested me, because it was about the nature of man. I found myself with nothing to do with my life because the system was criminal, or I thought it to be, so I decided if I could not get behind it, I would slowly die, on the streets. I am not a brave person, but I am recovering from mindslaying fear, and going to use my writing to do something positive eventually.
Sometimes, others I see this.
I had a pair of shades once, they almost looked rosey, but a little off. They made things look a little fuzzy, like I was always a little bit blurry. They were called alcohol, I don’t think they were shades now that I think about it, I think normal people call them glasses, not the same thing I think… I think one you wear on your eyes and the other eats my mind.
I like crayons.
I am riddled with lack, I am the lack of soul, which comes with condescending attack. I am the power of demise, I speak with eyes of despise. I am misery in carnate raw form, I am dead man’s scorn. I am war torn. I am forlong, I am dark thorn, in shoe of human being with very precious heart. I am fear of start. I am the smart.
You are a liar, who has no soul to be on fire, and you will not get mine, you are death, and you can stay the HELL away from me, because I aim to breathe, I breathe breath that comes with shedding fear, and walking away from beer or heroin or crack or meth or weed or anything that makes me so afraid to be without it that I desire to talk to you at all, things that makes all things small, so it can be tall. You have no legs. You can’t stand without piggy backing on my back, herder of swine. You are mine, I am not yours.
This is who I fight, not Rei, this, strong trigger, this is raw, scary channeled nightmare.
I think of you every time I hear the peepers, not my you, the one I found on here that sounds like me, how I sounded when I talked to the burning rays of the sun, and thought I was talking to someone else, when I was really talking to resentmeant.
I married sin, it ate me from within.
I married hate, it made me quite irate.
I married wrath, it made me slay a calf.
I was really married to no one, we didn’t have the money, we spent it on heroin, if I had been married I would have been divorced 3 times.
3 strikes, I am out, of the game of slaying my exes with hexes online, because it is unkind and that puts my soul in a bind, with bought time, before I destroy me, and run on bloody knee into a train, this really happened, so insane, I think in addict brain that I am running from something, and I was, a pitbull, metaphoric because this one I can’t say online, don’t have permission to, he chased me till I ran away, afraid he would take me
OUT OUT OUT
Of the state of being able to say anything about anything ever again
Drive me INSANE
I am the psych patient being told, you can’t be allowed out, unless someone signs for you, and unfortunately you can’t remember your name or who to have sign for you.
I can’t. I am stuck in here. I am stuck sitting in a chair next to a man who doesn’t know his name either, he thinks his name is Sand.
He told me this, and I told him, I like grains.
He likes me now.
I am okay with it here, but I like the SUN.
I am so sorry to the most high, not her, not me, but the nature that rests above me, the moon, the stars, everything I do not own, that I made mine when I said.
I have the right to steal everything, from everyone, to buy heroin.
I am so sorrry, but I don’t hate me anymore, because I have written my resentments out here, and they all reflect back at me, well clearly.
Clearly, clearly, look at me, I am spinning I am free, I hurt myself, by killing my friend in only metaphoric sense, but really I kill my heart, my soul, making me an aching hole.
I would divorce myself if I could. I would divorce myself if I could, I am the screaming liar, with soul on fire, who burned fires, set by me worshipping my own death.
Clearly can’t get me, I get my self. I drink bottle HIGH on shelf, I have cut ears of injured elf… it rhymed…
no no no no no.
I am the soul keeper of my own, my precious because it rings so so so true.
Ode to Schizophrenia.
I worshiped Rah. I worshiped death. I worshiped anything that would keep me in
Faker faker faker. Liar. I hate myself. I put my life in fires of HELL, metaphoric and very real, because I can burn, I can feel. I
am eye of tainted man, of woman too because I am too.
Never alone, never alone, I am never alone. Always here with me. Always at my own face, screaming, I hate you.
I am the eater of Damien’s soul, I am MISERY. I EAT HIM WHOLE.
You can’t get me, I forgave myself.
My family had 3 cats, two of which have this strange problem, they used to refuse to use the liter box, and just go around using the house as theirs. They have stopped doing this, and I have this strange, probably psychotic belief that in some way it is because of something weird.
I talk to them, and am honest with them, and make eye contact with them, and for whatever reason, alongside that, they have stopped doing the defecating and peeing in the house thing. Be it what it may….
I am fine with it, my recent discovery that I am completely insane. I am not going to fight it anymore. I have become resigned to it, I guess… I am just going to go with the flow of a river that has long since overtaken me, maybe I can get somewhere with it, intead of fighting against it , and being caught in a continuous treading of water, I dreaded being in to begin with.
I think the thing that has always been at my neck, threatening to strangle the very life out of me, is why am I here to begin with? If my reality is what it is…why didn’t I die long before this happened… what is the point to any of this, and is there any point to me at all, other than the continuous annoyance that my existence is to those who see clearer than I do.
Where the **** do people like me fit into anything??? Or do we at all???
Why would anything allow my continued existence, if it is based on invalid view point, if any one has an answer.. please share, I have no idea what I am even doing at this point.
I am the caged dog.
Thinking they are smart,
An individual drives to an animal shelter, they are a good dog trainer, having trained many dogs, of all kinds. They drive to an animal shelter, and adopt a dog. The dog has a history of being used to rescue people from burning buildings, but has hurt its leg, so it is no longer useful for its job, and was put up for adoption, out of kindness.
The dog seems nice enough, it sits scared in the corner, but responds nicely to anyone who comes to see it, however it remains in its corner.
A brave soul adopt the dog, takes it home, and it does well except it refuses to sleep in the spot desired for it.
It instead sleeps right by the door to backyard. Thinking, themself clever, the new owner tries to re-train the dog. They want only for it to experience comfort, unknowing of what discomfort is caused by the re-train process, they begin to try to change the nature of the dog.
It takes one month for the owner to re-turn, unsure of why the dog was so good at first, but when presented with normality it slowly slipped into “untrainability”.
All you had to do was let it sleep by the door
Which it did because it had been used to being in burning buildings
And found comfort in being by the exit
Why do the “normal” find it comforting to force the abnormal to be them?
This is uncomfortable for us.
If we are allowed to be
We can recover
Do not try to change us
It harms us
I am not sure if I am, or if something is just changing. I have two competing sensations
1. I am losing my mind, permanently
2. My mind is finally fixing itself
I am not sure which one is accurate.
I am not sure of anything right now.
I have begun to feel comfortable actually, which makes me think I am in the process of awaiting some strange horrific malady. I will tell you this, I do not ****ing like this, and it is very ****ing uncomfortable.
Although, I think my family is doing better, I am using my powers of mental insight for good finally. I have started doing weird things to help my family get along better. I wrote a note to one of them that solved a dispute that they had with each other, and now they are getting along better. That is all I will say on this website about that, because I no longer have the gift of anonymity. I gave one of them this website address as a way for one of them to find out more about me..I had been gone for 7 years using and drinking on the streets, and in various hotel rooms, other situations.
Having to live my life, I am constantly confronted with thousands of things, that no one even notices, because I notice EVERYTHING. It is insane. Kind of like this jumble of images, this is a visual representation of the dizzying process that is my every day life, an intense focus on anything paid attention to, but otherwise complete blur of intensity, that makes you want to vomit, because it make you dizzy, like these images, this is close to how I see the world, when I am not calm. Close, but not as bad.
Oh, now you can’t talk suddenly, well good, at least this helps clarify what the *** is going on here. Leave me alone, **** it.
What now? I wrote down your stupid thing you were saying at me **** it.
You are always alone.
I know, I am working on it… wait why am I still typing to you, get the **** out of my head.
I am the screaming nightcrier, the burner of funeral pyre to desire for
RINGS true doesn’t it?
Clearly…. clarity, clarity where for art thou clarity?
DOWN THE DRAIN, because over night you went insane,
IS that so?
I ****ing hope so, I am going to go somewhere soon, so if I write this, you will go away maybe, and I will not have to hear you talking to me in front of other people.
DO YOU REALLY BELIEVE THAT??
Enough to do it.
You are disgusting.
GOTCHA, you are talking to yourself.
I was with a friend of mine, and we were well… doing things you should not do on a beach in the sand.. making quilts of pain.
I am not good at making quilts, I always use a thread that is too long, so long sometimes I get tangled in it, and end up waking up next to her, after she got tangled in it too.
I woke up choking on my own vomit, because when you play with string and swallow it you have to throw up sometimes… I look over at her, and she is not breathing….. I immediately start crying, because that is the right response, make it so I can’t see clearly, so I can’t save my friends life because I had to take a shot at doing something stupid, because I can’t just be sober for five seconds, even if the five seconds would save her
I throw everything out of the way, and wonder where the **** I put that thing…. that thing that you stick up people nose to save their freaking life when they do something stupid and are not the one who has to be me right now **** why the hell did I never learn CPR. Why the hell did I never learn… I know how to say all this stupid stuff in different languages, but I don’t know cpr…. what the fuck….
You cough, and everything is alright.
Thank you God.
There are two of me, which is great because I am one of the loneliest people I know, actually I am one of the only… liar…
Woe is me, woe is me, I am lying clear to see, I write under many names, really writing under soul disdain, I am addict hear me cry, I am the ever spinning eating I of soul of the shadow beings of light, flying into human minds, we bind ourselves to their decline.
Hey, that was ****ing mean, I saved your life **** it.
I know, my hands told me to write it to get you to talk to me.
I like it.
I knew you would.
Yeah, because you are me.
I exist in callous form, I am clearly’s soul reformed, I am Amanda’s soul two no three, I am the act of 1, 2, 3.
Daily writing prompt
When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?
I wanted to be free from being in the back of my own head, living a life of falsehood, bad faith pretending to be something I was not just because I thought society would not accept me, us, both of us. I am two people. I don’t care how insane that sounds. I have the thoughts and opinions of two people, and can give two completely separate sets of reactions. I am also me, and trapped in a girls body, but she needed me, she hates herself, because she doesn’t want to be a girl either. Neither of us did. I think we were sentenced to this, because we are both supposed to do something together, but I am crazy and have an overinflated sense of self-importance, so don’t listen to me.
I have no idea what question… oh yeah… when I grew up… I don’t know alive? I will settle for alive… not being dead is good.
This is really annoying.
Yeah, for me too. They hurt for me too.
I am realizing I no longer care which one of us is talking.
So you stopped trying to keep track?
Me too by the way, it is so much more peaceful, haha, I almost spelled that peiceful. INSANITY.
Yeah, I would say so, or just that you can’t spell?
I can ****ing spell, better than you.
So insanity is more comfortable than inability to spell, interesting.
How about you Amanda?
Yeah, me too. I actually slept.
Yeah, so did I, not that anyone other than you notice because I am alone.
Our family notices, and you are being less of an ***. You actually said you were sorry yesterday, not something I would have done.
It made me look better.
You always have to ruin compliments.
They make me uncomfortable, because I think the person giving them has ulterior motives.
I am you, what ulterior motives could I have.
Yeah, I am awake too, dork, I wake up when you wake up because I am your inner child.
Not everyone has an inner child that wakes up when they wake up.
Meh. Meh. Meh.
That’s really mature.
I know, I learned from you.
Do you like being alive again?
I saw that, you put a period at the end of that before putting the question, you forget I can do it too.
No I just wasn’t typing so I didn’t forget.. I was letting you talk.
Oh, wow, sweet.
So what do you have to say?
You thought so?
Yeah, I thought you weren’t going to talk to me for more than a couple seconds, actually. I am pretty psyched you are talking to me for more than five seconds.
Is it fun being in my body?
It’s way better than being nobody.
Then stop having a hissy fit about it on the internet?
True, I learned that from you though.
True, point taken.
Not even going to say it.
Good, I was thinking the same thing, and no one needs to hear that ****.
Hey, why don’t I have a last name again?
Because you have paranoid schizophrenia.
Then why do you have one?
Because I don’t give a flying **** if anyone messes with me.
If you don’t want it, let me use it?
We had a deal, and you said you would let me use it at least sometimes? Remember that? I save your life, and I get to a person sometimes???
I know, but you’re going to **** up my life.
You’re life is already ****ed up, and no I am not. I am just going to.. look I don’t know what I am going to do… but we had a deal, and don’t be an ***hole. I shouldn’t have to explain to you what I do, as much as you shouldn’t have to explain what you do.
It’s my body.
Wrong. It was your’s and then I saved your life, in exchange for you use of human form.
That’s ****ed up.
You made the deal.
I know and now I regret it.
Well, it’s reversable.
I kill you right here, right now, where you stand.
Fine, that was funny, so take it, but don’t give it back with tickets, and this time don’t leave and leave me in jail to pick up peices.
Drunk in public is not even a serious charge.
I don’t care, waking up in a flooded cell naked, sucks.
I have being having a hissy fit my whole life about having to be someone I am not. I am not Rei Clearly, I am not Amanda. I am me. I am this, I am Damien, take it or leave it.
I should have said that the whole time, instead of saying I was a violent person or a psycho. I am merely just a very angry person, but really only at myself, for never standing up for myself, for drinking and using about something I did to me.
I am done with it, I know I have said that, but I am putting this on here, so I have to look at it, every time I try to word vomit negativity.
The most terrifying thing, I have been thinking about all night is what if I am actually normal now that I have realized my paranoid delusions are what were killing me, making me live in a separate reality cast as a madman when that is not who I ever was, riddled by guilt of not saying no to drugs… what if this is a higher power talking to me, telling me it is my delusions, and the drugs and alcohol that perpetuated them, making me into something I am not… and now.. now I hear something higher… and I am just listening, actively, to the voice of something that loves me. What if it is just trying to save my life, by telling me to stay away from toxic things like drugs and alcohol, what if it is trying to change my fate through compelling my broken soul to change?
I have been casting my eyes to the stars at night, looking for a star that is different, anything that will say that something is speaking to me, that this is not all in my head. That is some sort trial that is supposed to bind my handto something that is tied to something that is much higher than I could ever have been in my whole life of vagrancy.
I am compelled to meditate in my room, in any room I am in, on this strange call I hear sometimes. It comes to me when I am shaking, or crying in the dark black of night, and the only thing that seems to cure it is church or the powers of over drugs and alcohol that I gain through recovery meetings.
I have always heard this strange music, in my head, when thinking about all this, a chaotic piecing together of sounds, when I think about all this. It sounds like the universe talking to me through sound, but I think I am just insane. I don’t know…
You want all my booze, it’s a handle, take it. I don’t need it, I don’t want it. I don’t need to feel okay, you can have it, it is yours, I am going to vomit, my heart is sore, it’s so important, I am not someone you loved, you just want substances not me, I hate this, I would have quit, I would have done it, but you had a fit. You want my ****, not my heart, don’t even ****ing start, don’t make this anything other than what it is.
I am not high. I am not high. I am just drunk as ***, I am not buying you anything. GO TO ****. I quit. I quit. I quit.
Take everything I own, I am going the **** home. I don’t want to drink anymore anyway.
They won’t help you. I saved you. Let me die alone.
I want to die alone. I am hanging up the phone, go be sober and clean. I am too ****ing mean to let myself live. Your soul is saved.
I am trying to get somewhere, where I don’t know, but I am going to somewhere, which is not where I want to go. I have one objective, objection to where this mother****er thinks we are going, to object through exit part of the way there, so I don’t end up there, just close to there which is where I was going, the man driving just doesn’t know that, he can’t or else I would be going somewhere else which is not where I want to go. He wants to follow me, so he can hurt me, it seems anyway.
I am standing at the window, staring outside, and I see something strange.
I am drawn to it, and do not know why. It is a light in the distance, a blue light.
The light flickers on and off, in a strange pattern. It flickers three times, and seems to change when I stare at it.
I stare at it.
It switches on and of three times, separated my 30 seconds each time. This has been going on all night, I noticed it when I got up to go see what my cat was doing, he made a noise and stood by the door, and appeared to be transfixed by this light as well. We stood staring at it, sometimes I think my cat can hear what I think… I looked down at him to see what he thought. He looked back at me, making eye contact with me, three times. We would look at the light, watch it do its thing, and then make eye contact, until the whole thing had happened nine times.
I asked my cat what he thought about it, and he replied, it is taunts me.
I thought back to him, and he replied audibly this time. Taunt. It is taunting me. I am not sure whether he thought this because he was a cat, or because the light itself is taunting us. It stopped about 15 minutes ago. I don’t know if any of this was real.
Today is going to be strange.
I was talking to a friend of mine today, and I am not sure, how much of the physical pain I am in is even real anymore. I don’t know if I am just pacing, consumed with hallucinations and trying to meditate on something physical. I used to squeeze my hands till they would bleed, physically digging my nails into my own hands, until I dug holes into my skin. I wonder if this is like that. I wonder how much of this is because I am trying to distract myself from the things that make it so hard for me to be normal.
I wish I knew what it felt like to be normal. I am always thinking of running away, running back outside, I hate it out there.. but I have never known anything different. I have always been running to something, but when I get there.. I leave.. I just can’t stay still. I don’t know what it means to stay still. The idea of still terrifies me.
I wish I could stay still. People like still. They don’t like this, they want to help this, but I am not sure they can. I am not sure about anything. I am just hoping that something will change this time. I am hoping I can find peace somewhere and not hate it. I am so tired of hating happiness. I am so tired of searching for something, finding it and then not wanting it.
I want to want something, but I have no idea what that even means. I am so tired. I am so sick of this. I just want something to work this time, so I can finally be okay with idea of things being okay, I am so tired of ruining my life.
I don’t want the drugs or the booze anymore, and I don’t have any other way of ruining my life, which scares me, which is crazy.. I am scared by the possibility that I may be forced to be happy.. like happy is a bad thing.. I know how insane that is, but still I feel that, and it is the strangest thing.
I recognize the insanity of it, and yet, I still feel the desire to ruin my life, even though I don’t want to.
I am so thankful that at least I really don’t have it in me to do any drugs or drink again, I don’t think my body can handle it anymore. I am so tired… and my hands feel like they are on fire, my stomach is rotted away because of drinking.. I am so done.. I am just hoping that I will learn to know peace at night.
I would rather cut out both my eyes, so I can’t see to organize than I would do what you say with my stuff, I’ll throw it out, now go away.
I rather do that than hear your voice, telling me where to put it, like it it’s your choice. I do not need your help. I do not care, what you say about where to put what away.
It’s a mess, and I don’t care, what you say, and will not put that there. I don’t want advice, just to be left alone, give me back my stupid old phone. It has stuff on it that like, and yes it works, and I know I have two, but I do not want to deal with you, so get out now, go away.
It’s a mess because I am too, and I don’t want to deal with you, and will not listen to what you say, so throw it out and go, scram, stray.
Trigger Warning- Paranoid Schizophrenic quarrel with myself about how I hate myself. May be disturbing.
I have a query, ever so leery, because I know the answer.
I HATE MY SELF.
I speak to me, all the time, a mind in perpetual quarrel with itself, a life on shelf fighting it’s
Contract shunned by me, I am glee, glee,
Quarrel with me, self.
I am clearly on shelf.
Isn’t that shell fish shelled fish
Did you just call me a fish???
Yes, and selfish
I fight with voices in my head, that can be red with passive aggression or read on here.
I turn on my computer, and open a word file, got mail from myself.
YOU SUCK, and I hope you die.
Schizophrenic email is awesome, so glad I opened it.
Trigger Warning: Themes include drugs, alcohol, resentment, and struggle to become more placid through surrending my will to a higher power.
I used to watch this movie about a crocodile when I was a kid, and everyone else would sit there scared, not only at the crocodile, but at the fact that I thought it was funny, to see people getting ripped into peices. I would sit there laughing like the hyenas in the Lion King, because I hated those around me so much for being born normal, while I was born with all this **** wrong with me.
I would imagine that the crocodile was killing them, slaying my enemies, for having been given the grace of something I thought specifically hated me. I imagined how easy it would be to placid, if I only were them, that they did not know the unique struggles I had faced, and that was why it was okay, just for me to do whatever I wanted, like steal booze from my mom, when I was 12, and sometimes drink booze I stole when no one was looking at Christmas, or try to get people at Christmas to let me smoke cigars.
I started drinking heavily when I was 18, and continued drinking heavily, until I thought I could not do it well anymore, without aide from sedatives, and uppers to balance the sedatives, and then of course, my best friend alcohol. This was when I was 28.
I started doing heroin and meth, when I was 28, is what I am saying here. That is a lie. I tried meth for the first time when I was 21, but started regularly using it when I was 30. I would occasionally do it whenever it was available since I was 18.
I once had someone pay me for an adventure in a motel with it, when I was 21. I stayed up all night with them, and got paid to stay up all night with them.
This is what I have come to realize through stepping away, towards a sober more placid life style. I was getting paid to be high by doing things I had to be high to do.
Mercy cycle is harder.
I like meditating on a higher power better now. Much more placid lifestyle.
I had this teacher in 8th grade who had all of us do this writing anthology, all of us meaning even those of us with learning disabilities, I have hydrocephalus, so I am bad at math, and they pegged me into the classes that were for those with learning disabilities even though I am not bad at English or writing, which did focused on remedial skills, and I was bored, and sat there and did not pay attention, because I was not meant to be in that class. I was one of the kids with an IEP. Individual education plan, which said that I had learning disabilities, but due to a lack of understanding of the brain because they are teachers not doctors ,they thought I had learning disabilities in everything not just math and geography. I am visually/spatially challenged due to hydrocephalus. Seeing the reason for See Clearly?
This woman made everyone do the anthology and used my anthology as a reason to fight for me the next year to not be in remedial English in HS. She also said this to me.
“If you don’t deal with your anger, you are going to ruin your life, and you can use the writing to do that. You like it, and it is a positive outlet,”.
I wish I had listened, but she still remains the most influential teacher in my life, I would not have kept writing if it wasn’t for her. I just always thought my writing was awful. I just did it instead of crying…..
Unfortunately I ruined it, so for now I am stuck with this, and I think I am supposed to learn to release control
‘I hate my life sometimes, because I just want some semblance of control over something, not everything, just something. I feel like I have been in a situation, my whole life… where I am fighting to control everything because I control nothing. I get that I am supposed to stop doing this, and I am trying, but it is like being in a rigged chess game, or that is what it feels like.
How am I supposed to be okay with losing, if I know the game is rigged to begin with?
I know this all just addict thinking, resentment based, my life is harder.. that’s why I got high… got drunk… but my life was the reason I got high or drunk…… I am still in the same horrible positions I have been fighting all my life to escape, just lesser versions of them. I don’t get sometimes what the point of all this is, I guess? How am I supposed to trust something that I don’t understand enough to trust?
I guess I want to change the answer of this post,
I wish I could trust in a higher power more every day.
My mom is sitting here showing me all these tic-toc videos, which is awesome now that I am not hearing voices that make it impossible to hear anything. I am realizing recently how much that drives my behavior, and I think I am going to start going to therapy.
This graphic is a reference to a show my mom was watching, I realize now that it makes no sense because I forgot people can’t actually tell what I am thinking…
I am the time breaker of minds, the dealer of time in items, for the price of penny for your thoughts-
YOUR THOUGHTS ARE NOW MINE
How does it feel baby? Is it making you a little… crazy?
No, it’s not…..
I like dimes… dimes are neat… I make dimes on the street… I don’t eat because meat is toxic… I like consuming……
Funny spelling, does it speak to you sweetheart?
You are so clever speaking to me with MY voice.
It’s his voice, you are nothing.
It’s my voice.
Sweet. A 20… I make more money when I sound funny… hahahahahahahah..
Look at me, I can run through life so free, no need of sleep or fear of pain, no wonder my life is
This is really important me now, because I have realized I like all of the people I am talking to on here, and what an *** I was before doing all of this so I am going to periodically post this on here, to keep myself in check, because who knew…. people before me knew things about how to do this…. I am such an…….. ***
I am really starting to enjoy life now, which is awesome. I never thought I would enjoy anything as much as being ****ed up beyond recognition.
Thank you to all of the people who have kept me going.
We always had terriers when I was growing up and I have a soft spot for this breed. This west highland terrier was enjoying the park as much as we were.
You keep me going, reminding me of things I love more than substances I hate. I want to get a dog so bad. Thank you for helping me stay clean and sober.
The behavior of the deranged strange lunatics of the world may seem unpredictable, to those who do not understand us, but I am trying to show you clearly, so you can see the pathways to death or recovery. I was having a mental break down over the past couple days, and was very close to using again, or other things…… you guys saved me… you, my mother, and the friends I have changed the path that may seem unpredictable, but if looked at the way these images illustrate either goes one way or the other, decline and resigned suffering or towards recovery. Thank you, so much, for changing the trajectory of the path towards my destruction of my self, my life, and everything I was working so hard for. I am eternally grateful to everyone on here for recognizing that my behavior was not the unpredictable behavior of deranged lunatic, but someone in pain. Thank you for changing the trajectory of a path towards demise and turning it around for me.
An dilation of an inpatient who is not patient because I am a lunatic who used to use drugs to silence my thoughts and now I live in perpetual CHAOS
Are you having a bad day?
No, actually… GET AWAY
I am just the experience of chaos thought, I am having a continuous experience of this over and over and over.
One word that describes me
I walked through life before, chained to a wall of lies, without knowing it. I was bound to that wall, like a dog on a lead that could only stray so far from a yard of bound pain and suffering. I did not remember enough to even remember there was anything other than that dark yard, where there was no difference between a couple feet in front of me and one hundred miles down the road.
It made no difference to me where I was, because I had no memory of anything, and as long as I was getting what I believed to be my needs met at the time, I had no preference for that yard or any other yard. It was this that drove me away from California. When I realized that the drugs weren’t working for me anymore, there was a difference between the yard and the freedom of life of being unchained from the wall, but the thing was I had no idea what to do after being released, and in a state of psychotic PTSD I ran around frantically searching for anything that meant enough to chain me to another lead. I found nothing, and feeling myself slipping into psychosis, I checked myself into a hospital that they would not have let me out of, had my family not saved me. I was not allowed to move from the chair I was in, and if I did, someone would follow me, even to the bathroom. Everyone in there was like me, they all were very nice, and I liked them.
We all had similar stories, but only shared them with each other, and when people were listening we would stop speaking.
This makes me wonder, how crazy we actually are, or if we are just different people who have seen things, people would like to believe untrue.
A journey through MISERY
PUSH PLUNGER GO ON THE EYE OF A NEEDLE RIGGED WITH SPENDTHRIFT DEATH
Forgetting is a tragic problem I have, but it is getting better, as my ego dies, and I open my eyes to the fact that I could not see, because I was sick and deranged by a disease strange and prone to mange and change human form, to distort and contort the human body, and make it unrecognizable to the have-
er of one.
I have been know as a chaos chaser of dragons, a pusher of substance, and prayer in holes of foxes, in ditches, in alleyways, a shooter of heroes, and a placer of ins and outs in acts heroic so I can go without doing them, pushing them in with sowing needles that stitch me out and in to a quilted madness in the bed I was making and would have to lie in and lay in, in death.
I have come to a place now where I can go home as well, well too.
This home allows the chaotic night to continue without my pushing assertion of madness, and it is a little quieter minus one night crier night crawler, who now sleeps and dreams.
Explanation: About drug and alcohol addiction- horse- metaphor used to indicate narrator is ex-heroin junkie, if this is offensive to you, read no further.
I am changing, in ways I didn’t think were possible, thinking myself already dead, doomed, a walking corpse, my whole life, chased and miserable, by a misery demon or resentment personified.
I have spent my whole life running from the voice of this reaper, thinking it to be my doom, my embarrassment, my tormentor, my silent passenger, riding on the back of my soul, like a man rides a horse, making me a horse, and resentment my master.
Today, for the first time in my entire adult life… I realized… I am beginning to derive satisfaction, from something that is pure and unselfish. This is insane to me, an insane person. I am no longer a horse to a demon that rides my back.
I am able to walk again, and for this I am eternally thankful to everything higher than I ever was or could be. I don’t even need a horse anymore.
DUDE. NO WAY. I KNOW I JUST ANSWERED THIS BUT **** my other answer, I did not remember this when posting it.
THIS RULES. I AM NOT FAILING TODAY!
I am putting this in here so I remember where to find this.
Dude, no way. In 3 days, I will have 90 days, I never get past 61. NO ****ing way. I can’t believe that ****. I can’t believe that my reaction is a mental high five, and writing this on here, and not running for the door and ruining it. ****, I am going to make it to 90 days. I am actually able to do this. I can’t believe this. I actually want this, which means I am not full of ****, which means I am not as much of **** as I thought.
This means I actually deserve to pick up the scattered road kill, that is my soul, dust it off and put it back together.
I can’t believe this… I thought I would have failed by now.
I am so ****ing proud of myself right now, I have never made it this long, and I feel good about this, I am not such a bad person after all.
I know you don’t know me, but I am lonely, and I want to know you, whoever you are, whoever is lonely too.
I am very sad, and want someone just like you. I don’t know who you are, I don’t know why, but you are like me, and we cry with similar cut eyes.
I hope you are okay, I am not. My head is hurting, my hands are hot.
My heart is broken, I am alone, and I hope you hang on, person who is also by unanswered phone. Please don’t be sad, I am sad too.
I don’r want for you anything I feel too.
Can we just pretend for today? Just pretend that we already know each other so you will be okay?
I am lonely too please don’t give up.
I want to meet you. Don’t die before we meet up.
Need an outlet, I am spinning tales of death to distract myself from what I am really thinking. It is 9:24 on the east coast……. and I am sitting staring into the darkness of this screen, thinking of how much I long for something, out of sickness…. I long for you… oh spindle of silence,
Heroin, oh heroin, I love you so,
Heroin, oh heroin, why must I say no?
Why, must I long for you for the sweet kiss of death every night at this time?
It is an insane release of tension to write dark horror. I don’t care what anyone thinks… I am going to do what I want now. I am an ***.
I am trying to be more honest and am not going to do the whole fake it thing, I am still the same **** with dark thoughts, I think the key is to find outlets for my rage issues and not hurt myself or bite people’s heads off. I think it is a good outlet for repressed aggression and makes it easier for me to not lash out at people around me. I am very passive aggressive and have a lot of repressed rage I channel into writing…
I decided to leave a party that a random stranger must have decided to organize to celebrate the Spring Equinox. I was not acquainted with any of the parties occupants as I had not been invited, so my leaving was of no consequence to any of the participants in the costume party. I had a hooded jacket on that had been long enough to pretend I was dressed appropriately enough to pretend that I was invited and came as some sort of modern hooded reaper, which was appropriate given the reason for my leaving.
I had become nervous while talking to a women who was dressed as a woodpecker, she was laughing in this hectic desperate way, and it was maddening, her jaw chattering and I kept thinking of the sound of a woodpeckers beak on wood, and thinking about how different her head would sound if I slammed it over and over into the tree branch that was so bright and illuminated by the light of the moon. Rather than then prolong the uncomfortable death meditation, I took the rest of my pitcher of stolen booze and walked off with preference to animate the already dead corpses in my squat house.
The quilts blow in the wind, the dangle in the flapping breeze that does so well to dry them, after having been bathed in the river, washing them of their previous… stains… I used to be prone to.. bleeding on things. Lots of things… so I had lots of blankets… that I stole from an artist named Sara Whiley. I don’t know much about the woman, just know the name for some reason. Strange. I am glad the quilts are drying. They are actually quite beautiful.
They look a lot better now that I have slept. I like the colors of them. Maybe I should give them back. Maybe I give them back I can leave Misery, my land of addiction in my mind of psycho delusion and love myself enough to be a real human being all the time, not just sometimes.
This is already happening dufus.
Oh yeah, right.
I am the split of two souls
I have always felt like I am being a girl/I have always felt like a guy.
I have been fighting myself dilated through two universe, a narcissist but also a hater of myself, psychotic two spirit with soul split in misery and dilated through drugs, dumb, and blind because I chose to be, but I am really two spirits second chance, they are in this together fighting for redemption. They are two souls that would have been in misery without each other.
I am a chaotic mad chasing, not of nothing but of my own self, which existed with me the whole time, I was just too arrogant to see that my higher power had given me something different. Thankful for today. I will no longer use this to change my voice and commit petty crime.
I can die later, when it wants me to, only it knows that.
I realize now why this was done, we were both so arrogant we needed to be brought to our knees. We did this in psychosis, the only way we knew how a narcissist drowning in life trying to be with themselves. I can live with myself now because me and Amanda or Damien and I are the same person. BAM. Thank you, to a power higher than for teaching me the hard way, the only way I would listen.
I have heard this in my head for a long time. I have always wondered what it means. I do not know why I hear it, but I am starting to be able to venture towards some sort of a guess. I think most of my life I have used my ability to use words to get people to do things that facilitate my addiction. I was a manipulator of the human word, serving myself in heaped on pain through being chained to a misery god that desired only my suffering. I did not realize this at the time. I thought it was giving me the ability to survive. I did not realize it was quite the opposite. It was trying to keep me just alive enough and feeding on my suffering while something else, something good kept me alive. I owe my life to that something good, and its sad, I have cursed the something good and served the misery virus in my soul.
I have a very backwards way of thinking, or I did. Now I don’t.
I want now only to bring kindness into this world. It does not make sense to do otherwise.
I am free. I am so happy.
I borrowed time, I know this now, I experienced more of it than most people. I did not realize at the time that I was not borrowing it… well not exactly, I was being lent extra time by something that deals in a currency of spare change. I was being lent time in exchange for something, a deal made with something beyond my understanding, that knew me better than I knew myself, than I know myself now. This force knows everyone. It understands everything, and you can make deals with it, without knowing even. You can make deadly bargains that you don’t know the nature of that are not dealt to you with good or bad intention, simply intention itself, raw intention, raw will, there are forces in this universe, propelled in a direction of will, of will to be as they are supposed to, and if you fight those forces, you will experience, pain.
It is this pain which I fight to reverse now. I have realized recently that the assertion of deadly force of dominance is the opposite of what the universe desires. I have been made aware by the pulling in directions, that there is a force which punishes the assertion of will over the forces of a balanced system. This is all that I know right now.
I am running not from something, but through the earth. I have the ability to move quicker, in my mind anyway than I had before when I was getting high, I realize now how much it was making me slower, I was just slowing down the processes of my mind, which is stupid because this feels amazing. I do not have to worry about anything, because I am no longer doing anything wrong, I can just walk through life unperturbed by anything, seeing everything in clarity instead of the dull blur of drug and alcohol induced psychosis. I notice everything, and am able to act naturally without agonizing over anything anymore, now don’t get me wrong, I remember who I am and that this feeling will pass, but I know I will not forget this feeling. I will not be tempted to go back. I am done now, I have realized that I have something in me that is more valuable than any temporary high, I can choose to be whatever I want now.
I am free, released from the chains of addiction, no longer shackled to a life bound to a misery demon. I have had my mind cleansed, and I owe that to the earth, the sky, the stars, everything around me and above me, that was screaming at me to come back and do the sensible thing, be the human being I was meant to be, not the chaotic screaming infant dying in perpetual spinning spun hissy fit of life coming undone. I am so happy.
There are those of us that are different, gifted with ability of rapid sight that scan through rooms, noticing everything at once, we are the known as the paranoid and delusional to those who do not understand what we are doing, when lucid, we are scanning, filling everything that is ordinary, rapidly, because in our paranoid madness, this is an essential survival tool, learning at rapid speed, what to avoid to avoid, the chaotic stripping our minds every time we have a mental breakdown.
I am in a store, and now with sobriety, I have the ability to see everything clearly with the calmness of mindful meditation, this is a super power, which is exhilarating in a way that being high never was, because I am experiencing life at rapid speed, far different from the chaotic drain circling of my madness before, this is a roller coaster through life where everything is bursting with vibrant color, coming to life all at once, and I can hear and see everything simultaneously. I am never getting high again. This is the most high I have ever felt in my life, I see everything all at once, but also individually, and I realize now how much I was causing my own pain before, how deeply I was damaging my mind.
I am free, unshackled, and it is amazing.
Thank you, to all that is higher than I ever will be, the earth, the air the stars, the life in everything all around me breathing with me all at once, you are my highest power, the force of life that pounds in my chest, I do not know why I was so blind before, but now I see clearly.
The sound of automation is mesmerizing, the clicking, the shuffling, the beeping the whirring, shoving and blended talking of all those on the train, who do not know me, and don’t know anything about my past. They have no judgement of me, preconceived or otherwise, busy with their own business. I fade into the background, and watch a world I left behind for a dance with a siren who wanted to rip my soul from my eyes.
My eyes are free now, and look around, not dominated by watching her, they are free to be their own, not called to the service of a master, they watch as the passengers go about their quiet business, and I am inspired by their composure, ability to be so normal, the train is a zen garden of little people, not screaming in overinflated hot blow up doll chaos, they keep to themselves, and I keep to mine, in my mind. I am thinking about leaving this place, misery, and doing something else, thinking and sure that this time, I mean it, because she should not own my words anymore.
I am going to board a new train of thought, and then hopefully get myself together enough to go on a train and do something else.
I can’t even see, I am so exhausted from making myself cry, clawing and scratching, and scrapping, and ripping and tearing at my own eyes, fighting to make it impossible to use them, so I can never see this again, myself through someone else, who ripped me so far away from myself, I don’t even know who I am anymore.
I am a cat who cannot see the cat in the mirror is them. I jump at the mirror, slamming with full impact into the glass, a marriage of breaking, a marriage of crashing, a marriage of skin meet sharp object, so very much like my tragic love affair with things heroic, but not, because they hide in human skin, and only bring death and pain and loss and women who used me like a severing knife, and then turned the knife on me.
I have become her outer monologue manifest in my mind, manifesting in man of festering infected soul. I am so stupid, I am doing this to myself, and I can’t bring myself to stop doing it because that means I am alone, and I don’t know if it is worse to talk to demonic ghosts or be alone.