This site is a tool to facilitate the act of seeing clearly, written by hands that used to hurt myself.
I have schitzoaffective disorder, depression, anxiety, hydrocepholus, 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.
Dark horror fiction
Through dark horror fiction I rake the muck of the lives of street addicts.
Or in plain English this is an epic poem/novel about addiction told about low bottom addicts in horror style.
Category: Recovery
I am sorry I have not kept in touch for the past month or so, with you or myself. I have been having a really hard time. I remember most of my life now, which is hard because most of it has been extremely traumatic. I am grateful today to have survived everything, and have been spending a lot of time meditating outside when I am able to get my mind to slow down enough for that to be possible.
Damien
How do you waste the most time every day?
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
I had an extremely hard time typing that right now, because my mind is in Hell.
Ant
Ant that is stuck on small branch, unsure of which direction to go, how fo you remain upright?
How do you fight to say just so?
Which way do you go?
In a land of anxiety, which way do I turn?
Spider, that exists in my mind, possesssing venomous poison, poised to attack at any moment, every day, every hour, every second, every millisecond, you prowl around my mind filled with resentment, waiting to attack.
Webs, built by you glisten in the sunlight, drawing the eye to them, as they glitter in the light of the sun, reflecting the moon light, on their thin strands, that encase my mind, wrapping around it, with threads of suffocation.
Webs of lies that have been told for decaded extend out into the universe, so far that it is not possible to see beyond their reach, blinding me, making it impossible to make a rational decision.
I am stuck. I am stuck in this place, and I am trying to get out and away, and it is hard to maneuver, in a way which unsticks me, the stick webs, stick to my hands and feet.
My mind is clearing, my hands and feet are not as stuck as I previously thought, I am looking down at the webs that wrap around my feet, and am figuring a way out, but I am not there yet. I am not away from the spider that lives here, I am hoping to get out before it notices I am gone.
Meadows of Light
In meadows of light reflection, lays a peace, a serenity beyond detection.
Meadows of light, that reflect bright of day, have a peace, a joy, a serenity, that cannot be chased away.
It is in those meadows, in those fields, in those clearings, that I desire to stay, but in your mind and in space, and all around you I am, I am sitting right beside you, while always be, forever, and ever and ever.
I am here if you seek?
I want you to know peace, I want you to know love, I am from above, I speak to you constantly, I am above, I want you to know gladness, to find true love, I want you to know yourself, I am sent from above, to help you is my task, I am the voice of morning dove, I speak to you in silence, in voice of known man, I am sitting right beside you, I am voice of pure love, up above you, right beside you, in breeze of night…
You are right beside me? Will I be alright?
I want you to know this, I want you to hear, I am sitting right in you, and right here, I want you to know that what you seek you will find, I am guiding your path, you are no longer in bind.
Breakfast in Bed
Breakfast in bed, breakfast in bed, where my mind goes is somewhere of dread, instead of focusing on pure elation, I am drawn to misery fixation, I remember you sorely, poorly, and with hate, I remember all the times that Rei made me late, I remember instead all the times she wouldn’t get up, all the things that we missed messing with stuff, I remember all the nights when I called her name, to find her missing, and me going insane.
Breakfast in bed, breakfast in bed, how I long to have you with someone, other than her, anyone instead.
If I could just get down
Being on top a flower, which above the ground, sure did tower, was a might fete for a bee that was, oh so very small, not tall, in any way at all.
Oh, he thought, yes, it is, it is a burden, I do not kid, I have been here waiting all my life, to just get down, to move on with life, but I can’t, for here I stand, cannot come down, don’t know where I’d land, so since I can’t, see clearly, I am only sure what is in front of me, I must stay put, cannot make haste, so my life has been quite,
PAINFUL
Here I stand without a
PAUSE
I know I have broken
DOWN
Because, I am talking with you now, and telling you, who happened to pass by, my sad story, why I cry, what has happened, why I am wrought, with oh such a
PAINFUL
Thought, but now I realize, and see its true, I am no different, than anyone else.
She would make you quiver, make you shiver, she glowed
She had a magic and it showed, she was the river goddess, light dancer with candy lips, when she spoke they would drip sugar, or so it seemed, she was never mean, always green, always golden, with eyes so bright, glowing in the dark of night.
I am for you, I am found.
Starlight danced with her, it took her hand, with the power of stars her gaze was kept, their dust was shed when she slept, it flew off her eyes and collect on the clover laden ground, they grew when she was laying down.
I am for you, I am found, I am growing up from ground, in the day in the light, the sun’s pure love springs forth delight. How the sky loves you, I try to show, I am from ground, and I grow.
Paradise
Paradise, pair of dice, wouldn’t it be nice to not have to think of whether or not
Pair of dice, pair of dice, when I was playing, I was just a device, just a peice of your puzzle, just something nice, just some way to get what you wanted so bad with a pair of dice.
I roll twice, looking over my shoulder, you are watching me, I win, I win, I lose, I lose.
For you the roll is different.
I win, I lose. I lose, I lose.
Sometimes, in the dark of night, I wonder why I was playing.
Paradise, Pair of Dice
I am a toss up, blurry, out of focus, up to interpretation, I am here for your choosing, up to your choosing, have me, and you may experience bliss in this place, that is yours if you want it, if you want to be, in paradise, simply choose me.
I am right in front of you,
If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it.
Willy Wonka
I exist in sand
I exist in sea
Simply see me, and I will be.
I am there for you, in everything around, I am air, sea, see, and sound, I am touch, I am human sensation, I am ever-present in everything around. You will always have me, I will always be, you are free, you are free of fear, if you want me, I am here.
Everything will always be alright.
Everything will always be all right.
I am present, presenting in colors light and bright, I am there for you to experience during light of day, existing colored in shades that always stay.
Staying in the color of the ocean, staying because of love and devotion, colored in the colors of beautiful ocean.
In the sea, in the shore, I am painted with colors that are sure of themselves, present and joyous, painted with colors that are for us.
Waiting on a table, I am natural, and existing picked from ground, I am beautiful and waiting on a table, beautiful, existance without a label.
On a table, I wait for a passerby, who is able to spy the chance of sitting with participants, the chance limited, though appearing at first infinate.
Not everyone will sit, because they do not see, the table that is set for anyone who can quietly let themselves be free.
I am a rose that grows from a bud, that rises to peaceful serene scenes of sun light as bright as sky.
In the light of day, with the sun the light of the sky, shinning bright on all below and above.
A rose bud that rises with pure love of being up with the creator of air and sky, rising up towards sky, to be closer to the most high,
Carressed by the clouds, by the air, and by love itself, on the wings of doves who nest in the petals and leaves around and sing with voices, light and free to be and sing of the joy of life itself.
I grow for you, a love in you.
Blueberry Delight
I am so great, I am so good, I am a food, beyond anything seen, desired or wanted, all those without me are haunted by times when they do not have me, for I am free, I am blueberry cake, I am me. I am blueberry.
I am a blueberry, I am divine, I am a blueberry, I taste sublime, I am decadent, delicious, and beyond all heavenly taste, I am a blue berry, which no one will waste.
I am the best, I am divinity, I am with whipped cream on cake and am a sight for eyes sore from looking anywhere else for anything else to eat, that is less delicious than this rare treat, a cake with a berry so delicious it makes life complete.
Serene Peace, Peacefully Serene
I am serene peace, peacefully serene.
In a place of all green, where all is, and where is all, all is all and all is all that is all.
Trees tall grow in a land of all, and that is all that is, and is all that is all.
Above all reflects light on all below, that are below all.
I am serene peace, a peace that is peacefully serene.
That is all that I mean, and all is that which is meant.
I am ever-present, presenting peace.
Rainbow Shades
Raining down, and reigning and raining on, in rainbow shades of multi-color, the rain, that rains in rainbow shades of multiple droplets, which all sound different.
Shades of rainbow, rainbow shades, that color the world with rainbow ways, ways of being, rainbow shades, of being, many ways of seeing in rainbow ways.
Many ways of weighing in, on things that are numerous.
I do not see anything that is bigger than everyone, and everyone is the point of everything.
All of us matter, and everything matters, and hearing everything from everyone is the point of everything.
Bird of Bright Color
Bird the color of a bright flower, flew about a thousand miles an hour, it flew through day and through the night, and was thus reflecting a bright beautiful light.
I am a bird and I have feathers, not a fan of others, so I flock not with birds of a feather. Though I have them, they are not mine, not divine and not worth it, not worth it all, would rather be on buildings tall and above it all.
It colored its head and colored its wings, and gifted the seagull with ability to sing, it would follow travelers and village scurriers, mail curriers, and constant worriers.
I am a deviant, I am deviation, that describes my present situation. I am consumed with the idea of human sensation. I exist in complete fixation.
I am dizzy, I am dizzying, I am bird with ruffled feathers.
It would help and it would aide those who desired to chase the past away.
Blue and white colored it wings, it was good at many things, could sing and could caw, it was excellent at chasing those with paws and those with feathers, good at tracking flown letters and flying with beautiful and feathers covered with luminant light.
Mushrooms in the Sky
Mushrooms in the sky that glow with purple way up, they glow with light and with color, are for housing of another, they are kept way up high, and paint the light that reflects from sky.
I scrape the sky and go up and down. My walls help prevent passing around of sound.
In the day and in the night they are filled with light that glows very bright, with color from the painted walls, that is reflected because the walls are tall.
I stand above and come from below, down the stairs where you can go, to the basement, back on ground, in the apartments that are in the direction of down.
Mushrooms, mushrooms in the sky, that are really rooms rising into
Worlds above that are painted with bright purple.
I am rooted, planted, on solid ground, my walls go up, but I am down.
Staring Down
I am act of staring down, meditation on looking at the ground, fixation with stone and with stand, focusing not on act of stand, waters dark and deep and murky, actions shirky, and jerky.
Looking down, I stare at black and white, focused on an internal fight, I am looking at lack of light, not looking up, but stare down, I am in a war, with un-sound ground. I am grinding at daily grind, in a constant fight with borrowing from the divine.
This only exists in my mind, I do not realize that time is mine. I mind it because I don’t look up, forever drinking from others cup.
I am fixed on things that are fixed, forever not wanting to pick my eyes from the ground, turn my face to world of sound mind and body.
This photo is not me, but is a girl, who exists not like this but in world of bliss, world of kissed by kindness, given real body, instead of one that cries for other form, living in body forlorn and torn, by being the other, wishing for anything but this, anything but this, anything but death’s kiss.
Turning Up Daisies
I am turning up daisies, picked from the ground, picked because I am tired of the act of going down, to stare at things not there, pretending that I do not care, that my life has deadly focus,
Do you turn up?
Do you turn bright?
Do you turn the color of dark of night?
Staring at daisy and at crocus, at leaves, and leaves, focused on the act of whats beneath
My feet. Looking at dirt and feeling dirty, focused on the act of I am unworthy, torn and tearing at my soul and sole, life feeling like burning hole and whole. I am done with life that runs on ground, done with the act of going down, and constantly standing not on solid ground, will no longer take all this sitting down.
What’s the one luxury you can’t live without?
I love you, but I am tired, of my body, and my soul is on fire, so instead of dying in an ocean of sadness, trying to achieve the sensation of gladness, so I am on prescription medication, that makes it possible to achieve meditation.
She came from a land with no air, prone to make those around her yell and make creatures stare, she was from a place beneath the water, she had a father, was a daughter, in the water, she did live, where her life she had to give, being a mermaid, serving father, deep in dark, consuming water, she lived in darkness, lived underwater, her hair flowing around her earth like body, she sometimes cried, her tears flowing hotly.
Was a mermaid, that lived in sea, in the water, she was sentenced to be, she could not leave, could not explore, was locked in sadness, in life a bore, a chore, and service to those around, she was very used to the sound of siren call, she heard them scream, heard them sing, was a haver of bent wings, and mermaid lack of feet, could not walk, was of a life, beneath air, men would come and men would stare.
I have made it, I have made it, almost anyway, to half a year clean and sober.
Is this why you are making a bunch of bad jokes about feet?
Yes, this is the reason for all the feet jokes.
Extending An I Love Branch
I love you so much, I bend over, and spread my bark thin, so much, it bends from within, it is making my bark worse than my bite, it hurts in the day and the night, I spreading myself thin as we speak, and worry something will come from beneath, something from deep underneath,
That spreads in vain and in vein, and it is making me quite insane, in sane, meaning in fact lost my mind, but also unable to climb out of a slow setting in sanity, that makes me unable to stop
Bending over backwards, extending an olive branch, and spreading myself thin, which is making my bark way worse than my bite, and biting at my knees all night.
Out On A Limb
Out on a limb, standing my ground, turning blue, I am without any idea of what no to do, just know that I am waiting to know, and turning blue with waiting just so, I have no legs to stand on just limbs, and roots that are growing quite thing, you might say that my hair on my body stands up, or on edge if you are prone to look up, you may assure me that thing in fact are fine, but
I am worried that all is in vain and that is surely rooted in my brain, and try as I may or I might, it is very surely a fight to keep my limbs from breaking in strain, or keep blood pumping the pained veins.
I am without root for you, baby, out on a limb, falling over, I am sorry. I believe I am about to split in half.
I am walking forward, in a land where grass grows long, and everything is very much like a song.
It plays quite sweetly, and plays all day long.
Lovely music, and sunlight that shines from the sky, with the sun that is way up high, forever shinning brightly down on people, who are walking sometimes the ground and sometimes wandering to a steeple, that invites
Delights those around with the sound of bells, and a place to dwell that assures that live with go well for a spell, where music is able to tell of times that are to come, and a kingdom of bright sun.
Ship at Sea
Ship at sea, sailing far away, sailing to waters, where at peace, do I stay.
I am at peace, with my self, finally. I am a ship, sailing so free.
Freely I sail, on open water, sailing away, a former daughter, now under sun, on water’s so wide, I am a person, I exist in divine time, given to me, to be so free, to be myself, no longer an addict with self on a shelf.
I am a cat
I am a cat. My name is Dave.
I am a cat. Your life, I will save.
I walk through life, afraid of nothing.
I am brave.
I am a cat.
My name is Dave.
I am a fiction, because Dave my name is not. I am a fiction, because different name, I have got.
I followed her kind me, bound by, I’m blind.
She was so spellbinding, woman with long hair, she told me she wanted, wanted me there.
I followed her to the ocean, she went into the mist, she touched me softly, gave me a kiss, she walked slowly, walked into the mist, began dissappearing, into darkness.
I walked after her slowly, hoping to catch up, I had been drinking, still holding my cup, I wanted to catch her, was looking up, and I missed her dissappearing, was moving through
MIST, MIST, MIST.
In ignorance, of what bliss even meant, she dissappeared.
Heavenly mermaid, I caught you with feet, in a moment, I dreamed my life could be replete, with joy, but you walked away on your feet, and now I must admit defeat, couldn’t catch up, was too consumed with holding a cup of alcohol, alcohol, alcohol.
How are you?
You Touched My Heart
Nervous and lonely. I think it is particularly hard for me at night because my ex used to come home around this time, so I have a PTSD memory of them yelling at me or something around this time every night, but to be quite honest.. I don’t know. I just start having a hard time not drinking around this time at night. It might be because I always used to do the five o’clock instant rush to get drunk thing.
That is a lot of information.
Thank you.
You’re welcome. I am sorry for all the information.
No, it’s okay. I like that we can help each other remember things, and like I have said to you before, I really appreciate being able to be my own best friend.
Me too.
I am an idea
I am an idea, of idealization, I am preoccupation with ideation, I am pure idolization, I am the act of fixation with color and with the lips of human being. I am the act of seem, I am a dream. I am extremely extreme. I am the dreaming of dream. I am the seeming of seem.
I am quite simply a human being. Who am I? I don’t know. I am some one who felt like their name made them want to say no. That am and have always been not who I was but Damien de Soto.
The flower was known to chase the dark away. It would peep its head out in clear site, and would fight of dark of coming night. It was bright like love, bright like day, was known to chase the dark to where it would stay, all day long, with light so dark, it was not for bird or coming lark.
In the light of day so bright the flowers would gather morning light. Reflected on petals thin, it would soak deep in their flowery skin.
I am always wrongI am always wrong.
I am wrong, I am wrong, I am wrong.
I could say it all day long, and be right.
I would rather be wrong.
I, I, I,
Me, Me, Me
If one thing I can see, it’s my own NARCISSISM.
Never said I am always right, usually wrong, so like a bad song, I play all day long, making myself miserable, at least I love my own company.
I have no pride, which is good, because if I am successful at anything this site does, it shows me every day, that I lack clarity, which is why I thought I could do anything like force myself to see clearly.
I make myself laugh all the time, with having to remove my own head from my ***.
That’s all just admission of being mentally ****ed.
I am a grocery cart
I am not stolen, not privately owned, I am from a store, don’t have my own.
****y. That is how it is going.
I am glossy cart, I am a tiny toy, made from the heart.
Are you worried or just upset?
I’m worried, so I am having a hissy fit online, and I don’t care what you have to s..
Say about it? I am telling you that you are being a child having a fit online.
Well… yeah.
Just as long as you know what you are doing, then yeah, I am okay with you, yelling about it online.
I am yelling… and yeah, I guess airing my grievances in the only way I know how.
That sounds constructive.
You’re mean.
No, I really mean it, that does sound constructive.
Thank you, I am not used to you being nice to me.
Waking Up Nowhere
Thrifty, spendthrifts of life’s great gift who I did not spend an abundance of time with, because if nothing else they were not good at the act of lift, of up only knowing down
Down
Descend
Lower
Below, the circumstances of most, that is where
Host
Ghastly
Hellish parties, not a celebration, but gathering of
Miser
Able
Dissenters to what
Reality we have entered, as if consent is
Magically
Able to
Change this…
I swam out of a swamp, onto land, and out of this land
Onto land, where my legs now are planted, far away from those who place themselves in
Misery
Loves my own company, so much better, love
You, so much better…
You will no longer find me in that dimension, ever again.
Star Dust Feet
Pathway through stardust, through constellations reflected in blue light on the beach, tracing my steps through strange memories, of jelly fish kisses, traced in steps back, through a beach made of madness, of constant panic attack.
On the sands we did travel, but in the stars I see it now, on the beach in my memory, in the clouds you are now, the dark clouds of resentment, I have placed your name, where it need be, less I forget my own name, placed with shame, blame, and guilt, and heroin addiction.
Your name is up there, so I can stay on the ground, and not be pulled back to a place I am not now. We did have good times, but I want to forget, so I do not become stuck in a place of self neglect.
The dog of the yellow wall, used to not be there, not at all. He was not always there, but unfortunately, I have a wall flower, who does not like to be alone, and instead of continuing to be alone, and waiting by an un-ringing phone, I would make a friend, and I know he may just be pretend, but I am not really all there either, unless you cannot really tell that
I am talking to myself, or to another version of me on the internet, so what is the difference if I have a dog that is not real either???
My name is Steve, and I am quite peevish, I eat dog food, think it is delish. I am good at giving a wet kiss, to my owner’s eye, about the only time they don’t feel like they….
Liar, liar, pants on fire, you are not really that sad.
I know I am simply, talking to a fake dog, and myself online, that’s not sad at all…
Actually, this came out hilarious, so no, I am fine, nothing to see here.
I am really nervous a lot now, and I think it is from not being able to use alcohol or drugs. I am hoping it goes away, most of the time I feel like I am going to jump out of my own skin.
Me too.
Thank you for admitting that and not just blaming the whole thing on me, like usual.
Thank you for telling me I do that, didn’t realize until recently that was how you felt.
Yeah, you talk to me sometimes how you talk to him, and that is not a good way to talk to yourself.
Good point, that probably was what he wanted I think.
I think so too. I worry sometimes about feeling like this forever. I don’t like it, I want to get better at dealing with life on life’s terms.
You are doing okay, give yourself a break.
See Clearly
Radiant Flowers glowing with rainbow reflections, painted with sun’s affection, were present in a garden that glowed all day, they had the power to chase the clouds away.
The golden flowers, sucked up the sun, not took it away, but sucked in the parts that would come, and glitter on their petals, they were so happy to sit where they settled. The sun reflected all night and every day, had the power to chase the clouds away.
On their light petals the sun would shine, some would say their colors were divine. They would blow in wind and shine in sun, and the more they shone, the more people would come, to lay in their flowers, and laugh and play, they had the power to erase any sorrow filled day.
In their petals, a girl named Joy did go, and since the day she came, there has been no snow.
Luminance
We talk in colors bright and fun, flowers of the sun, in radiant shades of rainbow light, reflected we are warm and bright, we are illuminated with warmth, and love, sent from sunlit sky above.
In a garden in somewhere far away, the flowers talked of a party of lack of grey, of lack of shadow, and presence of always light, they grew, and grew, in colors bright, with their growth they all grew in bright reflection, their love holographic, empathic, and seeping with kept affection.
In their glow every passerby saw a power, that was beyond comparison in ever flower, with every bloom, the radiant flowers got better, at speaking kindness, as if in a letter.
I am radiant, I am in bloom
Radiant I am, in bloom, in June, I am a flower. I have powers, I can make people know love. I am as beautiful as a dove, good as an apology for fights of push and shove.
I am a rose, I am for you, put in your path, love everything you do, growing high in perfect light, perfected for you I am a delight, in shade of red, I glow so bright, to grow perfectly is my delight.
I am red, so you notice me, it is simply a pleasure, you can recieve, on your trail a gift from something higher.
Burning with a flame that comes from the sun, I am filled with shine, and am fun, to look at, a gift of the eye, life coming from the power of the sky.
How do you know when it’s time to unplug? What do you do to make it happen?
I use this website for a very unique purpose, to talk to myself constructively, good at everything that is destructive, my perspective is skewed to be on the path of rejection, instead of posotive direction, I am prone to do this negatively, but unable to see this clealry, it lays beyond my detection.
Hello sunshine, let’s do this right, I have been talking to you like her every night, I am very sorry not good at physical pain, and have been having fights through you with disdain.
I know you have, and I am not her, always forget you also talk to them, the other voices are a problem, I mean they talk to me too, without you I don’t know what I would do. I really miss talking just to you.
I think this is because we are getting better, baby. It might also be that we are ****ing crazy, but I don’t think so, the medication seems to working…..
Whose bright lit path was heaven laid, it was so lucky, this dear fox, it could surely beat all clocks, it was the first to every nest, some would say it was the best.
It got all food, it left not a trace, it was amazing at the deadly race.
I am an egg, I contain life too, I am waiting to be, just as you did too.
Contain a life, they say I do, I can be able to grow like you, but stroke of luck, has not gone my way, so sometimes, I become prey.
“Please don’t eat me,” They would say, those tragic few who could not get away. Though try they might, and many did, the fox did well, and so did it kids, so eat the eggs it certainly did.
It ran all day, and ran all night, the wooded creatures, put up a fight, then one day, when hunters came, they killed it without even knowing its name.
The doughnut at the local corner store, offered to buyers a hidden score, it glowed so bright, sprinkles and all, so sparkly it was, all visitors saw, the color change right before the eye, so bright it was, it made a woman cry.
Oh, my eyes, she said as she, looked down, her eyes, shifting to the ground.
Glow Nuts
Oh, no I dropped it, the woman said, and it fell on ground by ribbon red, and blue, and white, she picked it up, without a fight.
Not hard to find, was the baked good, and when she bit it, she said, “It’s good!”.
Does the caged bird sing, no it does not, my love of freedom, has always been supreme, that is not mean, it just what it is.
I love you, baby, but I need to fly.
Diamond
Tell me the truth, tell me a lie, tell me how you will always be right by my side, promise me clearly, promise me you, promise everything.
Always and never, I will never be there, cannot be tied down..
Daisies, are crazy, daisies are fun, daisies grow in flowers, open to sun, daisies know no fences, daisies are free, daisies are just like me.
I am the truth, I am the lie, I can never only be on one side, I am two people, I am not one, I am divided.
Baby, you rock my world, You are everything, or you were for a moment, so small, never tall, nothing more than just a second, Diamonds, may be someone’s best friend, but not mine, I am a rock of a differing kind.
She had many sides, many faces, that had been different places, at different times. She was like me, of divided mind, other sides behaving different ways.
I knew all sides, new all ways, she wanted a promise of always. I am good at all ways, not always. That is hard for me, that I could see very clearly. She wanted to trap, to ensare, to make always there. I am not a caged bird, do not know how to sing, am only good at running, being always free.
We grow out, we grow up, we do not grow down, we look up never down, we don’t hear sound, we hear waves, we feel waves, we grow in stages, in the night, mostly.
We are us, we are not them, we are potted, we live with friends, we are rooted, we are flowers that flower, our roots grow up, and begin to tower, into light, we grow by day, we grow up, we grow away, from the dark, we love the light, we do not fear the dark of night.
In the day, and in the dark, our colors bright, even when light is stark, we have colorful flowers, that show our health, we live in pot that could be on shelf, but is instead dangling in the light, we grow in public we do not fight, we only grow, we stay outside, we are flowers, we do not hide.
Love That Radiates in Waves of Purple Green
A tree named Serenity, had always had that name, knowing not how, or what it meant, but having it all the same.
It grew up, tall, towards the sky, knowing not why, but that to grow meant to grow up high to the sky.
It’s roots connected to ground, not knowing about sound, but knowing that it was of sound structure, and knew it well, though not being able to tell, anyone at all, not having a mouth or knowing about sound, just knowing that a sound foundation belonged to it, and that the foundation could feel the radiant waves of something that it knew to feel like vibration.
Its trees felt the touch of light, not knowing the difference between light and dark, except that one felt like it danced with kindness on it, and caused upward motion, which is liked, deeply, so deeply, it felt like its roots liked it so much, they would dance further toward the sky.
A Fish Named, Shirley, Surely
A fish named Shirley hit under bushes bright, with colors swirly, with were coral, as you quarreled with her sense of sureness, Shirley, was perpetually worried.
Her name a contradiction, her existence, a pure fiction, she believed herself to be an illusion of a narrator addicted to pain and suffering, who had painted her existence into that world where misery loves its own company.
Her narrators hands write this, before you read of it, my dear reader, and they have come to know that they create the world that poor Shirley, surely lives in.
If I can tell you anything about the life of this little fish, in a deep sea, that I am not in, but create for her, like someone creates mine for me, in my belief system anyway…
I can tell you one thing about Shirley that I am quite sure of, it is that her radiance and light was gifted to her, to guide her through the darkest of waters, which is what it did, most of the time, TBC.
Who would you like to talk to soon?
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.
Though I am small, on closer look, I am off the hook, I have everything I need, from the air to breathe, a planted seed, which brings forth my life, and the nutrients in the ground, brought by beings of sound mind.
I am tiny
I am a plant, and used to live in a garden, with my friends, I was placed one day, when they ripped me out, in a bulb, without any roots, a bulb, that was not one that grows, but instead of those for lamps.
I do not know, how or why, just fear that one day I may die, there is not rain or sun in here, so I know one thing, quite clear, I depend on those around, those in the realm that uses sound.
They cannot hear me because I can’t scream, so I hope, and sometimes dream in waves, I hope they get me the water and light I crave.
I then discover it comes right through, and that they know what they do, the soil here, has nutrients, too.
I am your brain on… resentment, just like drugs, but not very ****ing fun, but, oh so entertaining aren’t I?
No, you are just a lunatic talking to yourself.
You are so very negative.
You are the one talking to yourself, ***hole.
I love having your voice in my head.
It is my head.
No, it is our head.
No, it is Amanda’s and my head. You are a visitor, who they say is unwelcome, you just come to talk to me, because we are such good friends, and since we don’t want drugs anymore, you are no longer useful resentment.
Ouch.
I am getting good at this, baby. You can leave now.
I made this sarcastically for you, and for whoever likes sarcasm.
What is the legacy you want to leave behind?
Color me kind, color me quick, bring back my colors, make my colors stick.
Meditate on kindness, not on the dark, brick back the sunshine,
Do not rip out your own heart.
Speak kindly of gladness, bring out bright ways, learn from my sadness, and my wayward way.
Color me kindColor me quickBring back my colorsMake my colorsStickMeditateOn kindnessNot on the darkBring back the sunshineDon’t rip out Your own heartSpeak only of gladnessAnd of bright daysDon’t chase out gladnessSpeak of bright ways.
I strive for attention, because I am arrogant, and self involved, I am not trying to do this, it is not my resolved mission, I am just used to being ignored, so I do this because I am alone, and to be self assured, if there is nothing else from me to be learned, please take my sadness, and so in life turn, away from what I did, because for you I want, everything I do not have.
I want for you everything I do not have, all that makes you glad, instead of insane, and so very sad, and mad.
She was so sweet, she painted the shadows, she gave light to darkness, painting color into worlds of starkness. In all lack she painted color, touching hearts of trouble with waves of beauty.
She gave this to me
A flower from you, that you gave me to with love.
I gave it back, in reaction, in shove.
You were a bird, a sweet turtle dove, whom I could not accept, my heart from below not above.
A flower from gardens of heaven, was returned because I could not bring in it to the beds of those led into HELL, the place where I at the time I am meditating on did dwell, baby.
Yes, it was.
It was pure HELL, and
Flowers don’t live there, now I am leaving to, and in leaving, I am drawn to thinking of you.
You have been largely silent today, Amanda.
I know, because I had a hard time seeing you cry in front of people, and now I have this unsettled feeling that won’t go away. You were always the one who never cried.
I think you are feeling what it feels like for us to be one person, or the closest we have ever come to being fully our two-spirited selves.
I am glad both of us get to be part of your family.
I balance it, by I am working on it **** it. I am working on something, though I don’t quite know what it is yet, because most of my life I have been a career drug addict and alcoholic, whose job was surviving homelessness and trying to hold onto things like apartments and jobs to not be homeless again, how did I balance that? Poorly, that is why I am clean and sober now, and because I got tired of doing bad things.
I am trying right now to re-vamp my life so I am no longer a social vampire, but instead do something good that benefits mankind. I want to use writing and art to help people understand the people whose lifes are like mine, and help those like me do something fulfilling, what does that mean? I don’t quite know yet, I think sharing my experience on here is part of it though, and letting others know there is hope for them, because if I can do it, they can too.
My hope is that my strength to keep trying will help those like me recover as well, and that maybe they will experience joy, and that I will too.
There once was a girl, who loved beautiful flowers, she would stare at them for hours and hours, she would wish she could be like them, fragrant, and joyous, like her name suggested. She always felt that her name was a lie, sometimes so much that it made her very sad, or even cry. She wished to a rose, or a being with anything but toes, a sea lion, a fish, not her, so sad and craving anything, but this, she wished for the bliss of the sun, her life had never been very fun, but she felt obliged to stay, not to take away the happiness of those around her.
She prayed every day, for something to give her a little bit of contentment, or even content to her life, that felt so riddled with questions and with strife. One day a voice, way up high, almost seeming to come from the sky, directed her brown eyes, to the flowers she loved so much, and she decided to begin to alter them in photographs from other people, that inspired her so, she altered the flowers, putting more light in them, thinking herself a painter with the paint brush of the stars, she put the love of a higher power in the things that made her smile.
My world lights up so brightly, with the sight of you, sparkling with wonder-filled glitter, and sparkling brightness, it colors the misty darkness, with the tones of yellow and pink of sunrise, of the end of the suffocating madness of a night that went on too long.
You are a sunrise, you are the coming of morning, the rise from a nightmare, you are the dew on the grass.
You are a the waves on the ocean, rippling over the sands after an intense storm, you and your beautiful face, are everything that makes it just okay enough, to stick around to see if all this is worth it, to see if there is any light in the darkness.
The warm sunlight on your skin, helps me know, remember, to look up, because the reflection of the light on you reminds me, that light exists at all.
I do not know you, but I owe you, for reminding me beauty exists, and for keeping me going, thank you.
She spoke to me kindly, she spoke to me greatly, not with great understanding, but with great power, power with words and power over me, through my inability to understand her, and ability to panic over things beyond my understanding.
Belinda, Belinda, you were so great, so great
That my arrogance deprived us of the ability to relate, such a tragic shame, and I am only to blame.
I miss someone, I miss you, I don’t know you, but feel I do.
In the projected future, there is someone I miss right now, and I don’t know how I miss them, but I do. I dream of you, and like I said, I don’t know how.
You are not know to me, not right now.
You are made of star dust, you are in my dreams.
You are protected by time, or so it seems, because I am supposedf to be alone right now, and so are you, and I don’t know why, or maybe I do.
There is something a higher force is teaching me right now, and I imagine it is the same and also seperate for you, and I imagine the next time I am with someone or maybe the thousandth I don’t know, it will be different.
Olivia, Olivia, where are you now?
You were so kind to me, while you lay on the beach, you stopped swimming, and made me realize I could just be me.
Olivia, Olivia, from heaven you came down, and touched my dirty hand, covered in mud, engaged in conflict in act of push and shove. You helped me different, seeing my real face, you helped me realize it was not me I must erase.
You held my hand, and said a silent prayer, demanding nothing and touching my hair, telling me I was not bad, and that people could be mean, I cried while you talked and pretended you didn’t see.
You told me that I could love myself, and make new friends, that all that my other friends said could be put to bed. I thank you Olivia, you helped save my life, you made me realize I need not live in strife.
I am now a different person, partly because of what you said, and now all the dark thoughts are slowly being put to bed.
Back words and Foe Words
I am so happy, she is so great, I am so happy, don’t know if you relate. She is my best friend, I am her’s too, we will be together, forever with you, is what I say to her, because she is my first love, my sweet one, my honey, my lovely morning dove.
I love her forever, for all time, it will last.
What are you talking about? You left everyone we were with, I wanted to stay, and you made us leave.
This was about you.
Oh, thank you.
I am fine.
You don’t sound find, you silly ****er.
I know I don’t because I am not. I am really lonely and depressed.
Me too, but you sounded worse than me.
I want us to move on, get over having been a ****y addict and find friends and a girlfriend.
Agreed.
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 love you in green and black
What’s one small improvement you can make in your life?
I am no longer propelled by the forces of inner hell, and the power of pain swells or waves of force pushing me to consume my own tomb, cut off my own legs, while navigating through the dregs of society, because it became clear to me that, that was what I was doing at all, so now instead of remaining small and un-heroic, while trying to be a heroine…
My sun rays come from the sun now, not from the sound of human voice, that was the best choice I could have made, other than choosing sobriety, which are linked you see, she was my using buddy, and we used waters muddy, with great amounts of speed, and black tar, and though I still am scarred… I am no longer scared, because now she is no longer there to scare me, or make me afraid of Hell, or myself, really.
I am no longer the monster in someone’s nightmares, that is the improvement, and I will leave it at that.
My hands hurt. I am tired, and I really want to get high. So basically, I just really want to get high or drunk, but I don’t because I am an ***hole when I get drunk or high.
Too bad, so sad…
You are being a **** too, at least I admit I am doing it.
You did not admit you are doing it, I told you that you were.
I am you, writing on the internet a conversation you are having in our head.
At least we aren’t doing this on a street corner out loud while high.
Yeah, there’s that…
I am looking at you, but I am not, I am engaged in negative thought, which is not out of the ordinary.
I see you, but I don’t. I want to, but I won’t. That is the whole problem. I am never able to accept… never is so final..
In my mind, exists a battle, between up and down, sound and silence.
I am the bad guy, and you just wrote a love poem to heroin.
Yes.
Is that what you really think?
Yes.
You realize you are insane?
Yes.
So this is what it has come to, the one word answer game, so you look good and I look bad?
You are not real.
Me neither.
I know.
It’s a little bit better than thinking resentment is that strong of a voice in my head.
Is it?
I think so, but I am not sure.
Me neither.
I think it has something to do with you really hating being female.
I think so too.
It makes sense in a strange way. I always had a feeling about this, and always thought we were half one, half the other.
I know, I kind of always knew about this.
Me too.
Sea Goddess, Ocean Siren
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?
Exactly.
I am correct.
Exactly.
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.
She is not like you, so she is going down, I love you sweetheart and your friend would rather lay down.
She stole your money, and I’ll give it back, little do you know, this is all an act. We tricked you, baby, but you don’t know. I wanted your attention and your friend did know. Now you are sitting thinking she left you here, she is buying something of which you won’t here. I covered for her, because without her, I would never have met you, and after today won’t see you again, and this I bet you, so right now, I will tell you anything you want to hear, and yes have anything you want, I have it here.
I don’t know when she will be back, she did not tell me, and yes she will be back of this I assure, I implore you please relax, your insanity and anxiety is such a tax, I love your voice honey, and love your face, I have something that I am sure will make your pain slow pace.
Okay, she is back no go away, and if you are ever in need you know where I stay.
Must not sleep…
I love you baby, sweetie, honey
You make me feel so very funny. It is about you sweetheart, not about the money, I will do anything you say, you just have to make sure that you
I am the ever told lie, I am the act of why why why
I am everything you do being inconsequential, I am the consequences of a life lived as
Ball and chain Ball and Chain Ball and Chain
No not him not him not him
I am addicted to
ACID REIGN
ACID REIGN
Down
Down I…. hope I don’t
Hit the ground, hit the ground, must be up up up
Please don’t let my eyes
Shut. I must remain awake, for fear of what will happen when I am asleep. I can’t watch who is coming on the street if I sleep, please don’t let me fall asleep.
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
DIE.
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
SOLE
Of your shoe because your real soul belongs only to you, please
Remember that.
Your fear is tragic, because like magic I am no longer there to bother you at all, so leave me alone, and we are good, so sad, too bad, not mad, stop calling my family and we are good, don’t care enough, you were never that important to me, anyway.
She tells my best friend who I can no longer talk to because of her that I scare her. I do not care about you, baby. I am so sorry I am crazy, but you knew this, and originally loved me for it, until you dragged me to the ground, because you loved the sound of going down,
Because it brought you up, always drinking from my cup, and now you think that I still care, so sorry, no longer there. I don’t know why you still visit this **** site, or call my family at odd hours of the night.
I don’t like you/love you or want to fight.
I simply no longer care, oh so sorry, sweetie, you were never really there for me, and quite frankly,
You were never that important to me, anyway.
I just like my own ego, so much I decided to have a hissy fit on the internet, too bad, so sad, tragic, but I don’t want anything to do with you, or anything you do, so there is nothing to fear. Am I making myself clear?
Leave me alone.
I am purple, I am green. I am self-love, interpreted completely wrong, because I need to see a therapist.
I love you so much, you turn my heart to dust, I trust nothing more than you, I love everything you do.
You sound psychotic.
You do too.
I love you too, by the way, so glad we are okay.
How do you unwind after a demanding day?
I used to fire drugs, play games with thugs, and sweep pain under rugs, now I am resigned to a life of pain, as long as it does not go down the drain again. I am no longer alone, I remembered I don’t need a phone, because I am my own best friend.
I never have to be alone again.
I am the nuerotic psychotic, who saw a nuerologist, psychologist and got the gist of the meaning of all of this.
I have a nuerologist, therapist, primary care doctor and am going to be on medication in two weeks, my shunt is functioning, found out I will live with this level of chronic pain the rest of my life and just have never experienced it as an adult because I was always too messed up to know what it was like as an adult. Have not been sober since I was a child.
I know, I am not trying to, actually I think I am trying to… I don’t really know why, I like saying the wrong things, it scares people away from me.
I get it, but come on dude, all day…
I just don’t want to go to the freaking doctor tomorrow, so instead of freaking out and crying about it you are telling creepy stories about hitting on women in inappropriate ways?
I guess so, I thought it was appropriate, in that I was trying to get the poor girl to hate drugs as much as I did.
It didn’t even happen so, you’re not a hero.
I am not even going to say what I am thinking…
Good because you’re not that drug either…
I am walking by myself, like always every night, possessed by bottle on the shelf of a wall that is abandoned, by all who do not stand in the wreck that my life has landed in
I am darkness, I am pain, I am embodied disdain.
I am dark acid rain
Reigning down on soul of nothing
I have taken up to living. here… my home is here..
Yes, my dear, I have beer, and nothing… I have nothing to…
This is my home.. this is alone.. my home…
If that’s what you call this …in this building… she thinks this is interesting… drunken creature… following me…
Calls me brave, saying I made some stand against something…that I am standing up for something…. myself I assume.. I stand in my own tomb….possessed by the fire of chaotic desire to consume….
I am glamorization of Hell
I am woman’s desire to dispell everything her parent’s told her not to do
I am where you shouldn’t be
I am do not envy me
She helps me light a fire, tells me she wants to be like me.. free….
She does not see what is really there, illuminated godess… standing at the corner of a dark cliff, wanting to jump
Wanting this….
What is it you want
You want this?
Why?
She talks to me for an hour, and for an hour everything is alright, she has to leave in the morning promises to come back, promises she actually meant everything she said.. I know she is lying…… I am nothing but a night of adventure.. I am nothing but the desire to deny potential…
I am the glamorization of a life of loss..
I am the glamorization of the freedom that is the chains of addiction..
I never see her again because heroine’s do not save heroin addicts…
I have to save myself……
Maybe if I do… one day I will see someone like you again.
The ocean a place of dark meditation, because of my continuous situation, which is no longer continuous, but was percieved to be, because of me percieving anything that was dark as continuous, continuing forever.
Do you see stardust when you look into the sky?
Do you see so clearly it makes you cry?
What did you see when you stood with her?
Did you see clearly or did you see blur?
What made you so sad when you looked up at night?
I was hated myself, hated the light.
I spent a lot of time, screaming while viewing you, screaming with no one, into nothing, while looking at myself reflected back at me, into my own face, into the wind which always shot back at me….
The night skies were always blue when I was with you, because I hated me, and reflected it on you.
I am now seeing,
That I was always screaming at me.
I was angry at me, for being there alone because I hated me, not any of you,
Not anything
Not anyone
Not any power
In the sky
Or below
Just me, always, but not forever
Slowly realizing
I hated me… the whole time.
I saw you once, but made you here, and realize now you never were.
I saw you then, but look back now, and realize that I did not know how
To move away from the one I lost, knowing not the secret cost
Of devoting life to my own hate
To living life perpetually in state
Of irate
I am no longer made of dark seeded resent
Of that life I long to no longer sent
On mission to destroy myself, no longer devoted to bottle on shelf.
I am realizing, that I no longer walk on the same ground. I am used to something else, to going round and round. A different person took me out of myself today, called me somewhere else, from a place of far away.
They told me something that the you I speak of on her often said, and the feeling that I got was different, and makes me think I am truly getting better, because some other feelings are becoming put to bed.
I am no longer thinking always of someone else, now I am able to put my feelings, not myself on a shelf.
I am finally able to hear, to feel, to see, and finally experiencing life, not on a shelf, but being me.
I am the heart of glass, I am fragile, but that will pass, filled with darkness from the past, but given peace I think will last.
What are 5 everyday things that bring you happiness?
Clean Clothes
Access to running water
Safe place to sleep
Waking up to seeing my family
Access to coffee, nicotine, and food
“Do not fear death, but rather the unlived life. You don’t have to live forever. You just have to live.”
Natalie Babbit, Tuck Everlasting
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 am the painting of a perfect day, that is not perfect now, but the ideal, that exists, and is the possibility of beginning to feel
I am the idea that one day I will be, because I can see, so I can come out.
I am the feeling of not having to feel perpetually without.
I feel hope, I feel peace, even if I scream and cry, I can feel the possibility of something if I keep going and continue to be honest with myself,
I will discover what else is out there, I am not always stuck here.
I am the ability to see forward motion, if anything that is what is different, I am may at sometimes, be chaotic, pacing itself, runing or chasing, but I see forward motion, a direction, a towards, not a forlorn staring, always and forever into nothing. I am at least focused on somewhere not nowhere.
I used to be nowhere, desiring nothing, wanting only more nowhere, because nowhere had things not found in somewhere, but only in the perpetual pause of nowhere, justified,
By distilled misery, put on ice or intensified, and injected into situations to be experienced rapidly, thinking that it would feel better slowly or quickly eating my own death, than experiencing life on life’s terms.
If nothing else I see this now, I see clearly now, and I may cry, or scream, or fight the universe, I may have a hissy fit the whole time, but I am no longer diluting my reality so I can consume it shot by shot.
You are not her, but you look like Samantha
You showed me how to love anything again, being my friend when I was not even a friend to myself, licking my hands, when I was still not over the missing finger tips, showing me it is okay to have gone astray.
I had a cat like you once, who died tragically, and I never got over it, until you, your liking of my wounded hands, also helped me like my own soul again, forgiving myself for the fact that I am not super-human and couldn’t save your fellow cat from peril, when I could barely save myself.
One day, I will be were you are, I hope.
Your licking of my hands, licked the wounds that were made on my soul so long ago, when I was too drunk to think clearly to save anyone but myself from what befell my life.
I love you as I loved my other cats, and some part of me thinks you will tell them for me, because I can feel them forgiving me for not being super-human enough to save them, when you lick my hands.
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
N-ing
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
Paint me a picture of the blue, paint me a picture not designed by you, but repainted with tragic recolor
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.
Just had a hilarious conversation about admitting weakness and being sick at work. It is funny to know how much of my belief system has roots (heh) in cultural heritage and in my beliefs which are highly rooted in Catholicism.
I am okay with it now though, my beliefs are my beliefs I guess.. and denying them has just caused me undue pain.
I am done with the root canal and have to get a crown put on my tooth, not that anyone needs to know this… mostly documenting this for myself anyway…
Peace.
Damien
I will follow him Follow him wherever he may go And near him, I always will be For nothing can keep me away He is my destiny
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.
I am re-painter, not a re-stainer, and a un-tragic complainer, complaining about things that are no longer here, just an addict learning to ****ing feel.
This is a picture of flowers
I am small, made by meditation.
I am focused on for
One second and now this.
Rose, rose where is my
Rose
I am a metaphor, I am dying, but I am trying, so hard to keep someone somewhere because what I really am is a thought
Brought to someone by disease
I am the dissing of easment.
I am lack of apeasement.
Get out.
I win.
I am red painted roses.
In a garden of suposes.
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.
To change, sparring change, not hands outtretched for hand outs
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?
Me.
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.
Okay.
I am stained, ever the same as always, with purple, ever the same as I was, but for a different reason
Whining, wining, not wining, not whining but winning slowly, a battle with a stain, destain, de-stain.
Polaroid of the void,
I am wind up toy
I was running off a cliff
Forever I was adrift
But, I am finding now
Forever out of cloud
Do you paint a way out?
Do you tell a store of a life without
Do you speak of escape or revival
Loss or survival?
I am free, I am free, I am free
Just to be
Just to be
Yeah, I am.
Me too.
I know.
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…
Thanks, jerk.
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.
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 a tile on the floor of time, I spent my life on pursuit of dime in bag, not diamond bag.
I know, I am having issues, I think it is just what my brain does.
Having a hard time being alone?
Yeah, kinda.
I am too.
Is that why you are talking to yourself on a dark screen?
***hole.
What?
Isn’t that what you are doing?
Yeah..
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.
Wow. Facts.
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.
Welcome to Hell, Misery painted with wine, and whinning. no winning just whinning, from spendthrift dime stealers.
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.
ahhhahahhahhahhahahhhahahhahhahahhahhahahhahha
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 am an orange, I am a door. I am closed, laughing ripping away orange skin on bare floor.
I eat in Hell
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?
Yes, learning.
Thank you?
You’re welcome.
Do you climb the sky?
Yes, I do with my I.
I come from the ground, and clear I move, making loud sound.
I climb, I grow, creature of light, I climb the sky in star flight, in the light of stars, I dance for you, I am a lighting lightning storm, that quickly moves.
In the stars I frantic dance, and if watch, you gain the chance, to see the sky frantic ballet, of dancing legs of bones that play
In shoes of light without trap of skin, they dance in bones spread sky thin.
Swimming in the middle of the night, diver dives into pools of lack of light, chaotic swimming without putting up fight.
Chaotic in that there is no sight, site is absent, site is absent, dancing in the black expanse, swimmer exists in life beyond a trance.
Darting hands stretch out in front of no face, melting into outer space.
The nose dive undertaken without knowledge of nose, it is so cold, no feel to toes, swimming in the dark black night, existing only in the cold delight.
Green moss, grows for the deserter in the desert of just desserts and not chaotic skipping or subbing of meals
The growth of moss, happens with the falling of rain, not reign.
Moss grows in areas that have been nourished by water, not cut apart by sowing pain into areas, that can just be left well enough
Alone.
Flowers are found in those areas, that are painted with unique stories that scream in joy, not pain, speaking not of disdain and staining bitterness, but of the nourishment of rain not reign.
In flames, all is burned, including those casting second stone.
I like cats
I am so grateful to be out of some of the pain that I was in before. I still have one more crown to get done, and am not even dreading it, but just so happy to be going forward not backward. Nothing has ever felt like this in my entire life.
I made peace with my family, my mother, my father, and my brother do not hate me anymore. I am no longer in need of using my metaphor for any of them, at the moment, may return to it in anger later. There are no promises with me, when it comes to speech or text. I am a very back forth person, but I am becoming alright with it, and myself, all two of me.
I am so thankful for everything that has made this level of peace possible in my life. I really had resigned myself to dying miserable, that was the reason for the original site name.
Damien
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.
In jest.
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.
Alcoholism
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.
Had all those homeless people in the parks and subways of Manhattan, just not paid attention in class?
Lisa Unger, Darkness My Old Friend
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.
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.
Where do you run to? I ran in the dark, and it was nice, until I fell, and busted my knee.
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
Permanently.
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.
****
Run.
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…
Hahahhahhahahhahhaahhahhahahhahha
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
inner turmoil.
Churning oil.
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.
Ahhahahaahahhahahhahahahha
You can’t get me, I forgave myself.
Not where I am, where I was, and where I wish my back yard was.
What are your morning rituals? What does the first hour of your day look like?
I used to sleep outside, so I woke up at 430 because that is when things start waking up outside, people and animals. I would start hearing noises outside, so I would wake up, and have to move my position. Now that I am at Diane’s, I wake up at 4:30 and go downstairs, into the basement at 4:30. I do not like to be upstairs. I like the basement, or the outside. I like being left alone.
I am on here for a large part of the morning, talking to myself through this thing, because it is not acceptable here to talk to myself. I talk to myself because I have something wrong with me or different about me, whichever you prefer, Diane uses the words chosing to be different a lot. I have told her, this is not a chose. She does not believe me.
I find now that if I get up 4:30 like I used to, it is explainable, and I am left alone for one and a half hours, which is amazing.
I am on here for the hour and a half, but I also drink coffee, sometimes I read, and I deal with ramifications of the last 15 years, which involve responding to Diane’s inquiries, thinking about how to get out of my present situation, sometimes reading, and sometimes showering. I usually like to shower after I eat, because sometimes eating makes me nauseous and showering helps with that. Plus showering is more time I get to be alone, which I think may be the dominating force in my day, now that I look at it.
I don’t think this is negative, it is simply me showing a desire to move on, and do my own thing.
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 going to un-feel this now, and quite frankly I don’t care, I need to escape this madness. I am going to start more diligently trying to do that every day, because I can’t do this anymore, this is unfair, and if my right to be left unbothered by someone’s need to shove beliefs down my throat, I can just make an effort to do what is best for me and get a different situation.
It involved having a PTSD flashback and mental breakdown, that I am still dealing with the ramifications of now. My entire body hurts, its strange. I think it might be good that this happened, it happened and I am not dead, so that’s good… I guess? I just want to get away from here… I am trying to deal with someone who does not understand that whatever they may feel, it is not appropriate to follow everyone around shouting about their views, when their views weren’t asked. They weren’t involved in any specific discussion with me, they just were going around literally and I mean this literally meaning this is what happened… over and over and over and over and over and over repeating and repeating
Stand here and listen to everything I say for 30 minutes, even though I know you are doing something, even though you asked me kindly to stop, even though you have made it clear that you don’t want to talk about this.
These are my political views
This is why I am right.
This is how this applies to this topic which has nothing to do with politics.
Look at this video that is 10 minutes long with someone saying I am right.
Read this thing that says I am right.
If I said no to any of this, they would follow me around screaming about I was not educated, unkind, and wrong.
If I said nothing, they would scream about how I was not listening.
If I walked away they would follow me, explaining how they have a right to have their views heard.
The thing is, I never asked for their views about politics. I said I like chocolate ice cream.
This is literally insane. The chocolate ice cream example is not an exaggeration, it is not the thing that started the thing, but it was something like that, and I had such a hard core panic attack and episode after what they did, I can’t even remember what they decided to use as an opportunity to attack views I don’t even have. I am not political at all really, I like to stay out of other people’s business…
I am exhausted and am going to bed. I wish I could leave this house. I am going to work on that going forward every day now, this is insanity.
Casted stones don’t break bones, unless of course, you can’t see, unless of course, you are me
I throw stones at no one, pelting words into the darkness of night, because no one can hear me right?
Do you know what you do?
Blind rage is a cage of the mind, locking down the heart of a human being into animalistic state, clawing for escape in every direction.
The hands that seek to allow its release, thought to be the hands of the captor, and in madness, the claws of the caged dart back and forth, poking the hands of their releaser, jabbing at their hands, with bones they have to pick with someone else, themselves.
I am begining. Nothing else, just starting over from the begining.
**** it, I am losing my mind.
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.
I am no good, I am never should, I am pain, I am rain, I am soul disdain, I am decay of brain, sentenced to life down drain, I am schizophrenia, I am a temporary dissent into a world that presents itself to haver, as permanent, I am mind altering, I am soul daunting, I am fixable with hope and therapy, but I am daunting, taunting, draining and disdaining haver, I make the mad madder, and the sad sadder, do not climb death’s ladder, be free, through love and therapy. You are more than me.
I am from the land of trees, I make men beg on their knees, I am request to baby, please, don’t do it!!!!!!!!! I am disease of sick infested mind, I plague man and woman throughout time, I am not of sound, but infection of rejected mind. I am not kind, but develop in those who are bound by
PAIN
Diseased Brain
Disdain in
INSANE MIND
You will never find anything, like me, I am so free, living impossibly in a land that
DOESN’T EXIST.
I am death’s kiss,
I am paranoid schizophrenia.
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.
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.
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 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.
I am sitting in a room, and consumed with die soon, because I do not live in present time, but in worrying about spent dime, that was spent long ago, and today it was shown to me
SO WHAT?
The power of moving on, is that you move on, which means you just move on, and I think I just figured that out. I ruined my own life, and I am going to stop making excuses, I don’t care anymore what I did to ruin it.
I am trying, really I am.. I am telling this to myself right now, because I either beat the **** out of myself or worship the ground I walk on, which is insane because that would mean I am always stepping on my own self, which is true I guess… because my lack of introspection does exactly that. I guess that is why I have characteristically had very few friends, because I have a method of dealing with conflict that is basically I don’t deal with, get mad and repress my own emotions until I am screaming on internet about doing things that make me hate myself? I see a pattern here… Wow that helped.
I guess it is something I didn’t understand too, and I am one of those people or them or meth thinking. them and meth are the same word rearranged by the way, released this when I was really freaking high, thought it was cool till I realized that it was all a metaphor for me destroying myself with drugs.
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.
From Me,
Misery’s slave
Daily writing prompt
When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?
Fail. I started hallucinating when I was eight years old, back then I was hardly able to do it because I thought the voices were talking to me because I was writing, so I would get scared and stop doing it. It happened like that for years, this blog is my first attempt at doing it actually. I like the blog format because it makes it possible for to write in stream of consciousness, where I am basically word vomiting hallucinations onto a page. That gets the auditory hallucination thing under control which keeps me from visually hallucinating.
All this is why I wanted to be exactly what I am but minus what is wrong with me. I have spent my whole life self-medicating this and done nothing with my life, other than abuse drugs and alcohol, and at least I got that out out of my system.
I think five year old me would be okay with me, given everything that happened. Oh, and five year old me used to tell people her name was Damien by the way, so at least there’s that.
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.
Daily writing prompt
How often do you say “no” to things that would interfere with your goals?
I used to be completely self propelled, which may sound completely selfish, but hear me out, **** it, I am changing, and this explains how, and that I am realizing what an *** I have been.
I used to trust no one, because I can’t trust my own **** reality, so any interference with my goals.. was met with strong resistance, although I am trying to be more open to the idea that there are good people in this world. I am beginning to trust the advice of a couple close friends, who have become the only people in my life that have began to shift what I believe to be my goals, and by shift I mean establish, and completely alter, by making it possible for me to even have goals to begin with.
I am eternally grateful to these people, and I am so happy to have them in my life, they are truly the first and only friends I have ever had. The toxic people I surrounded myself with prior to quitting my old drinking/using life style are not even considered in the same category.
These people, have the ability to alter my goals. They are more respected in opinion than my opinion itself. I have never had friends before these people. They change my goals every day, by adding new layers of insight to the foundation of who I even am. I did not know this, until very recently, and still do not even know it now. I am learning who I am through the relationships with others I have begun to form now. They are shifting my ideas of who I am, what I could be, and helping me form new goals.
Daily writing prompt
What’s a secret skill or ability you have or wish you had?
I am so happy to be at peace, a place, instead of the sensation of mind erase, a drink, but also a place. I am no longer the feeling of lack of space, but am allowed to exist.
I wasn’t before this. I was a state of mind that was pushed away, a meditation thought to be decay, but now I exist.
Yes.
Drinking, using, any of that… is not better than this, and none of that is missed, not for anything would I give up this.
I am so glad to be done, and be able to not hate myself anymore.
I have begun to sow the fractured pieces of my soul back together, but it is hard, a reverse dissection of a fake infection projected on me by my own hand.
“When we say that a man is jovial in disposition, we are conscious that we are using the name of the great Roman god in vain,”.
Funk, Wilfred, Word Origins and Their Romantic Stories, Page 28
I am jovial, I am rude, I make Roman God, a human mood.
I think that my human state of being is divine, my heart, so fine.
Watch me speak with words careless tossed, like man who loves to just get sauced, I am happy, I am free, I am elated, I am me.
I need nothing, I don’t frown, I am flying, don’t look down, I am gliding, I am elated, I am fixated, not properly punctuated, I am ranting, I am mad, I need no breath, just pauses sad, because in this state, I cannot last, I am the eyes of man who drinks from tainted glass.
Look at me, look at me, I need nothing, I am free. I am happy, I am me.
I used to believe in luck, and my ability be flying through life on the wings of a plane, that was going down, to the ground, burning till I realized, I could jump off the plane, and trust, that I need not be a brain that was covered in rust, I could get clean by rain that was brought by trust, that all I needed to do is look up, and see what was above me. I am not the highest thing, I may have been higher than anything, but I was falling fast, and rather be destined to crash.. I realized that I had to make my life last and grab onto something that would make things last.
I now believe in faith, or simply have it I guess, and so when my mind is unrest, I do not feel pain in my chest, or find myself compelled to undertake dark quest for something ripped out of devil chest, I simply trust in something higher than fire could ever make me, and I am finally realizing that is greatly
More peace-bringing than luck and a dedication to an empire fueled by fire driven desire could ever make me in a million years.
She was on a box of graham crackers, a new box, that came out I don’t know when, and I don’t want to know, ever.
Probably… never happened anyway, because it has already been established
I am
INSANE
A person with invalid
Opinion.
Lidded for the safety of all those who do not like to hear me.
I am sealed in toxic glass prison of constant self reflection, reflecting my poison, only at myself.
Caustic bitter alcoholic, encased in a bottle of alcohol, drowning like a elephant in the room, or a allusion to Dumbo,
Dumb ***.
Or just an addict thinking about things that will hurt me in the morning because **** me.
“I knew I shouldn’t watch, that she wouldn’t want me to. But the way that water slipped around her bare skin rooted me in place. The moon shone down on both on us both, alighting her beauty, and me in sin.”
I have no voice, or choice to move.
I am not man, I am not one who desires food.
I am unlike this woman, I observe.
I am home to nest, I am home to bird.
She does not know, because she cannot understand, I am a tree, and yet I see, her where she stands.
I am fan that blows in all weather. No longer is my temper tethered to changes in wind.
I have learned to accept things I cannot change, so I am no longer bothered by the rain, nor do I cry when the sun is clouded by inclement clouds, I am without
Bother, when it is hotter than I can stand, because now I realize it is all going according to something that has nothing to do with me.
I can stand and be, simply free, to experience bliss.
I am able to feel the sun again, because I pay attention, not demanding perfection, but forgetting to mention I don’t know what that is.
I am just simply me, standing outside experiencing something that is not mine. It does not matter whether it is existential or divine.
It matters only that I accept it exists, and is not specific to me, I just experience this, and that’s a gift.
I used to play Mario, and have hissy fits at the screen when I would lose, I hated it, but everyone liked it, so I would play it and almost break the game system, and ruin it for everyone else. I was never a very happy child.
Everyone else would sit there laughing at making jokes, enjoying the thrill of the game, and I would be thinking about stealing wine from downstairs, because Mario made me so freaking nervous. I was always running of cliffs or jumping into the Goombas, hands shaking with anger or nervousness, and then running away to go find alcohol downstairs. I was 13.
My entire life as far as I can remember, has been very much like this game, a chaotic running into Goombas, or dealers, or cops, or people who want to kick my *** because I ripped them off, or my family mad because I spent all my money on things that no one should spend any of their money on.
I am happy today because I literally forgot, today is my 90th day sober and clean. I am so consumed with being happy about other things, I forgot I was not drinking or doing drugs.
I have never known happiness like this. It cost me nothing, and I can have it by not buying things I didn’t need, if I keep doing the right thing, which makes me feel good anyway.
HIGH SCORE
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.
Misery cycle.
Mercy cycle is harder.
I like meditating on a higher power better now. Much more placid lifestyle.
I emptied both of my laundry baskets last night, metaphorical and physical, instead of throwing all my clothes out and saying I don’t need more than the clothes on my back.
I don’t have many clothes, or I didn’t because whenever I would get angry, I would throw my clothes out, or all over the road, or all over the woods, or leave them at someone’s house, or you get the idea. I leave things places, because I don’t need things… or so I thought.. apparently… that is addiction thinking……
I used to hate my family,
Because they did not understand me.
They told me try to get better, because they don’t ****ing understand me…
Or because they love you, jerk.
I did my laundry yesterday with my mother, and she helped me fold it because I am missing three of my finger tips, because I have done things that caused me to get infections in my hands…
I told her I was sorry, and now my laundry is put away and all of it is clean.
If I kick this chair, over and over till it breaks, and then say I am sorry over and over, then I did not make a mistake. I am not good at give and take, because it is all your fault, because you take, take, take. So I am going to have to break, break, break
This chair, right now.
SMASH.
I am not a fan of chairs anyway, they are stupid. I don’t like something telling me how to sit. I will sit, however I want. I don’t need a stupid chair.
Look at you, stupid chair, lying in the floor? Who is sitting up now?? Neither of us. I am sorry, by the way, someone nice probably made you, and I ruined it.
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…..
I am going to try an experiment. I am going to try just giving up control and dealing with fear itself. Go.
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.
I am crazy, so my brain can do interesting things, like simulate feelings that make me feel like I am…
Far far away on a very elevated hill,
and walking down the hill feels as bad in real life as walking down a steep hill would in elated life.
I feel like garbage right now, and it is all because I flipped out for I don’t know how long… I am not sure… would have to look back through this, and I don’t think that is a good idea..
I am just going to move on for once…
Here’s to walking forward instead of staring backwards at back words.
Daily writing prompt
What tattoo do you want and where would you put it?
Around my eyes, not on my eyes, because it is the closest I can get to altering my face, without doing the whole plastic surgery thing. I hate my face.
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…
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.
Damien
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.
“Keep in mind that I’m crazy, won’t you?”
Girl with the dragon tattoo, Stieg Larsson
Daily writing prompt
What tattoo do you want and where would you put it?
Something like this, in tattoo form, right on the opposing side of my elbow, on both arms, because it reminds me why I don’t want to do drugs anymore.
Explanation: I saw a bunch on the work on your page, and you inspired me. I have been struggling over the past couple days with thoughts of suicide. Your work on your site, helped me keep going, thank you for being one of the ones responsible for saving my life, yesterday.
Your BooknVolume https://booknvolume.com/ speaks volumes to me, in the words you cast to this dark screen, in them… kindness reflects off and gives peace,
I see your reaction and see what I lack, when I am drawn to lament and to attack, everything you say on your page,
A medication for my meditations on making self pay over and over to bend over in rage.
Through your help I see misspell enrage.
You are more wise than me, you see.
I can’t see anything clearly.
Thank you for bringing this to light for me.
You have brought me peace, for the second and for that and the light through which beckons
on me a little grace,
I am so glad you helped me
by replacing erase with a picture that
Helps me stop hating my damn face.
and taking me out of this…
You don’t listen to me, when I beg you, do not ****ing call me that ever again. If you do stay the **** away from me. I am not your girl, I never was, and if you want that GET THE **** away from me, because you will not get what you want from me. You will not get someone saying pretty things to you, that is not me, never ****ing was. Sorry, you don’t like it…. stay away.
I am not the universe’s gift to anyone, you don’t own me, and I will not do anything that is not good for me, and that includes listening you say that **** to me over and over and over, it is not some magical incantation that causes me to be what you want. **** you. *** your believe that I am something you own. I am no one’s. GET THE **** out with that ****.
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.
I am sorry for the exposure to my… insanity. I am just being honest, and thank you for accepting me, it means the world. I am grateful. That is the word that describes me, a description of how I feel, not what I have wrong with me. I am so thankful.
There it is, the one word that describes me, blanked out, so I have no idea what it is, and you can guess the mystery behind its four lettered character.
The answer doesn’t matter. Even though the answer is the entire point of answering this question, or is it? Or is the point…. the characterization of a member of society who was before unclear?
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.
What is one word that describes you?
DUDE. NO WAY. I KNOW I JUST ANSWERED THIS BUT **** my other answer, I did not remember this when posting it.
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.
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…
Sorry.
Damien
I used to spend so much time talking and none listening. Don’t get me wrong, I am on here all the time writing all day. I know that is talking, but I enjoy listening so much more than talking to myself, or even writing. I am starting to think differently about the words I write on here, as being tools to establish connections with human beings that are out there somewhere, that I cannot see, without these words on this screen. This has brought me so much peace, in a world that used to be dominated by chaos, and I owe that to everything outside myself. I am so glad I decided to let go of everything and trust something outside myself to guide me to something better, that I have never known before.
Thank you, all of you.
You as always continue to paint my world with color when it used to be a world of darkness and despair.
Damien/Amanda
What was the best compliment you’ve received?
The biggest compliment I have ever received, I have received over and over recently, because I am a person of doing something either very hard or not at all, and such is my life because the universe tends to speak to me in voices I can understand, which is convenient, and speaks to the wisdom inherent in a universe that is so much wiser than me, who knew? I am not the smartest person in the universe?
Sorry, sarcasm helps me deal with having to admit weakness, which I am learning is a strength. A bunch of my friends, who are a compliment in and of themselves, for being my friends, have paid me the compliment of understanding me more than I understood myself, and having patience with the fact that I am an ***. They like me for who I am, that is the best thing in the entire world, and a couple of them today, told me that over coffee, while we talked about our lives, and we all actually listened to each other, instead of just waiting to cut each other off, like my other friends used to. I like the new friends I have so much better, because I have started to connect with people with the condition that they have to be people like me, sober and clean people, who don’t do the things I don’t want to be around. Those people have become the best friends I could ever ask for and continue to compliment me just by continuing to want to hang out with me with no motive to gain anything other than company.
Here is to not hanging out with misery anymore, I prefer the company of the angels of mercy so much more, so much more entertaining than the misery demons that populated the chaotic streets. Entertaining angels is so much better.
My life does not have the luxury of being private, it has been dominated by screaming into dark night, a chaos flight on the wings of a dragon, pivoting around the eye of chaos by a pilot that flies dragons, in a plane of thought not a plane. In other words you are reading the adventure of a person who ventures through worlds of thought not worlds in this reality, although these worlds do combine. They are more combined now then ever. I have ventured through Hell or Misery and back, slaying dragons, or I mean riding or chasing them. I do not chase them anymore, my vain in vein efforts have left me too charred by the embers of injected Misery.
I was the pilot of a dragon, or of a body that was full of the blood of a dragon for most of my life, pivoting around the drain, a tragic dance that I did for 15 years of my life and lived to tell about it, because something saved me, and I owe my life to that something, whatever it is. It allowed me to live, because I think it wants me to tell this story, and share what I learned, being poised to find poison and poison one’s own blood, is something I will no longer do, I have seen too much death, and want only life now. I am done pivoting around the drain. I am now in the process of rebuilding my life so it can be more private, instead of being dominated by the psycho screaming of a chaotic night crier.
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.
Damien/Amanda
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.
What was the best compliment you’ve received?
I no longer care about bringing praise to myself, but on shifting the eyes of those who experience the pain that was so real to me for so long. I want to help those who experience pain, any pain, like me, away from that pain towards something, anything that stops that pain, even if it is just for a second, if it can be for a second or for an hour, or forever. I want to help, because that is what I feel like something else higher than me wants me to do, so when I am inspired to, I am doing this, as an atonement for a life of selfishness, when people tell me they see this. I am happy because that means I am doing the right thing, the thing I know I am supposed to do instead of serving me, like I used to.
Look not to what I say or do, but to the source of where my work leads you, away from the pain in my words, and at what saves me, whatever you think that is. I am asking you to always reflect on joy and see pain, but not dwell on it.
I am complimented when my work helps someone, because then and only then do I know I am doing what I am supposed to.
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.
See Clearly
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.
Who knew real friends are better than imaginary ones? Sometimes it feels like everyone except me knew. I am so psyched I actually have friends now, and they give a **** about me not just because I am providing them some sort of business deal or exchanging some kind of favor for something they have, they are people I can be open and honest with and they are open and honest with me, and actually ****ing like me. I am so psyched. Every day that goes by the amount of people I am connecting with is growing, and I forget that when I am alone for a couple of days, and send myself ping ponging backwards into a land of pain that is not real anymore. I had a friend of mine tell me recently to move on.
I think that is major. I think a lot of what I have been ranting about on here, all the past resentments, were what was killing me. I think the problem was, I thought I was supposed to beat myself up to heal, and I am finding out through the wisdom of others, now that I am being honest that I am not so different from those around me, and it was my own arrogance that was so fatal, not the decisions that I had made. The fact that I was not willing to accept help was what was killing me, not what I had done in the past.
Damien/Amanda
You’re going on a cross-country trip. Airplane, train, bus, car, or bike?
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.
I say I am never touching you again, and I am being childish, but you don’t want to know what I meant, and it was nothing against you.
I was in love with you, and I know my hands are dirty because they always are, not physically but metaphorically, that is why they are usually cracked and bleeding and prone to infection, aside from old habits done with fire and shot in vain.
You told me you knew how to help me, I told you I didn’t need your help, and you said I was being selfish, so I let you unpack the suitcase of dirty laundry that is my aching bleeding cut, open wound of a soul, and you donated them all to charity and bought me new clothes, I am not going to wear your new clothes, I am a human being with feelings, and bad as I am, I am still a human being with feelings, and if you hated me so much…. I am starting to be glad you are no longer around, because I would rather be lonely the rest of my life, then ever have to fight with someone while high on my own supply with you who contributed nothing but criticism, when I kept trying to get clean and sober.
Here, you would say, giving me some of yours, which I didn’t know you had, when you were going line for line shot for shot with me, on money bought with gambling that no one figures me out.
I am so tired of thinking of you.
It is dark outside and I am looking at the water, and it is cloudy, so there is very little light, so I can look at the water without seeing my **** face. I hate my face. I hate everything about it, enough to cut it off. Which explains a lot of my injuries…
You told me I was crazy, delusional psychopath, trying to remove me from myself, telling me I was a psycho delusion, that I was not real. I was Amanda’s delusion, telling me to go away, that you wanted to speak to her, well sorry, she is not real, I am.
I am not her, she was a front, a silly sing song mocking bird, painted on like a mask you tattoo on your face with a dirty needles, infectious disease of resent a tattoo scar, of a human being.
Do I know serenity? Not yet, I have not met her or it, or seen it, or felt it, I am consumed on and off by lack, a cutting out of my existence that is still so deep it penetrates my whole body with memory of every time I paid for misery and got misery.
I loved your company, Rei.
We loved your company.
I am so ugh….. I don’t even know… I embarrass myself constantly, this is so hard. I am constantly anxious, I can’t sleep that much, and then other times I feel like I am on top of the world. I guess this is why I used to sedate myself, because I sound like a lunatic, and it is really freaking embarrassing. I just can’t put this nowhere, so I feel like here is better than out loud, because then at least, I don’t have to hear myself. I just want to know what it feels like to feel normal. I have never felt that way in my whole life. I am so done with all of this, but it is not out of my system, because I am still so **** insecure, it is embarrassing.
I wish I could just shut my brain off sometimes. I can’t even do that when I sleep, and I am nervous because I don’t want to do this to myself ever again, but I don’t know how to feel without this intensity. I don’t feel without the extremes. I wish I could be one of those “let it go” people, but I am not. I am just not, and I can’t keep lying because I know I will just drink or get high if I do that, I see that now… and I ****ing hate how the drugs and booze made me feel at the end. I hate who they made me be, I hate what addiction did to my life. I am trying to move on, but this is so hard, and the longest I have ever been clean and sober since I was 18. I am 35.
17 years. Of this.. on and off.
I am so done. At the very least I have that, never again. I don’t want to drink/get high ever again.
I am in a trance, meditating on a deadly wavelength a chaotic hypnosis focusing on a stroboscopic motion, the slicing fan, tragic entrainment , of my mind transfixed on the woman who danced with me, for money and items.
I am dancing right now, with my own death, because I cannot handle living right now, and I don’t want to die, but I am bleeding out a year after losing you, over and over again, triggered by nothing, by you calling me, you texting me, bothering me, so much that I put all this out here on this site, as if it just happened, that is how it feels, like it just happened, but I have bleeding for a year. I am dying over this, and have been for a year, killing myself, with drugs and alcohol over a person who used me for drugs and alcohol. I am disgusted with myself and with her/him. I am so done with all of this, but keep coming back over and over to it, because they won’t leave me alone.
I just want peace, please everything in the universe, please just give me the strength to move on and find something else.
You’re going on a cross-country trip. Airplane, train, bus, car, or bike?
Is that breaking the rules? I am adding feet because honestly, I walked from Oregon to California with my friend Chris. It was Southern Oregon and we walked to Northern Cali. I started my journey elsewhere and got all the way across the country and for anonymity so my ex doesn’t mess with me, I am just going to say somewhere north to west, buses- mostly grey hounds, hitching rides, walking, trains, and then a plane ride home and he/she is still in Misery. I am so glad to not be there, anymore.
I never thought I would make it back home. I walked to Cali with my friend Chris the Christian. He was very nice and peaceful and sang to me about God the whole way, and then I got annoyed because he started to say he was falling in love with me, and I walked 150 miles myself, alone on the highway while praying.
This is what proved to me that something was protecting me, because whatever it was, it guided back to my family and I literally walked alone at night on the highway and something got me back home. Thank you to my higher power. That is the only thing that makes sense, I should be dead but something saved me.
I am Swiss cheese…..
Except I am not Swiss, and not cheese…
Just a real person… or
Human soul
Full of metaphysical holes in my
Self or the idea of everything I am.
I dug them myself because she told me she would help me, and I am stupid and gullible and believed her/him when he/she told me she loved me. I don’t know why that gives her/him the right to put holes in me.. okay? I don’t even know what love is, and no one had ever told me they loved me, not like that… so I listened to everything he/she said…. I would have jumped off a….Not really…. I would have done almost anything they asked me to, even if it hurt me, and he/she used that to make me do whatever they wanted on a mission for drugs,
And it was so obvious to everyone except me, even those who hated me, would tell me
You realize you are just her source right?
I was just her source of elation and she was everything to me.
I want to….
I could cry, if I wasn’t so numb because my soul hurts.
Please God, can I find something real, please God, please God,,, I don’t want to be alone…I am so sorry for everything I did.. please don’t…. I don’t want to be alone anymore…
Writing that really helped me. The last part, which means prayer just helped me. Thank you to my higher power, I am not crying anymore, numb. sad. but stopped crying.
I don’t know why, but night time makes me want to cry. The loneliness is so intense it radiates through my whole body, feeling like they cut out a vital organ, which is sad because the only vitality I provided you was not vital at all, but fatal, and I done with being a malady, parody and obscene joke that is just your ticket to free toke, poke, or smoke. I hate you so much because you call me all the time, and I never answer and it has been a year and I still wish I could answer, and you would be who I thought you were, and not the soul sucking drug addict leech that cared more about getting high than going with me to the hospital, so you told me my hand wasn’t that bad and I trusted you and now I am missing half my right thumb and I am right handed.. and it kills me, because I have to see it every time I write… and you knew that.. so stop calling about the type writer..
I feel like crying..
How would you rate your confidence level?
10. I am very very fast. I can run faster than anyone I know, most notably faster than this guy whose girlfriend paid me back my… rent money. I loaned it to him.. because I am a nice person? It was 400 dollars I got for standing in traffic at a light, and I am not the kind of person who looks good doing that… so sometimes they pay me to move, it takes a couple hours to make 400 dollars, like 8.
I stood there for 8 hours and had enough to pay the rent for the month or um… make tragic mistakes, you know dice roll. I decided to play double or nothing with my friend who is my business associate at well, well after this, his girl was my business associate and he was my **** for about 2 months. He wanted the power back from his girl.
I have a very um… aggressive approach to business, so people give me what I want.
Being impervious to death helps too… which is why I am turning my life around because I am realizing how I write this what an *** I was, because I think that something saved me all these times, and I proceeded to give it the finger, so it chopped my fingers off? Or the tips of three of them? I don’t think He or them or it really did that… I think it was MRSA and me being a ****.
Moral of the story, I am an arrogant **** , but I am trying to tone that down so… 5 on confidence..
I am beginning to feel better, hands that perpetually around my own neck, ringing it, and choking without realizing that I can just let go. I am so tired, exhausted from the chaotic pacing in the middle of the night, to find a safe place. I am reminded of my friend from California, and a night we spent huddled together under his jacket, crying while smoking to stay awake, we wanted to sleep so bad, our eyes heavy with the act of finding safety, away from the burning abandoned building were fires were started and blamed on drug addicts who fell asleep with fires started. No one knows the truth, there is something or someone out here, and it is hunting us, and I am afraid all the time, so I spread a rumor that I am dangerous, hiding behind perceptions of people like me, it keeps people away enough that I can survive.
I am prone to foxhole prayers, praying to anything that will listen, saying over and over, please help me, if you help me I am done… but I am not done, because I can’t rest, because it is not safe, because they come while you sleep. I don’t know who they are, I just know people I know are disappearing and they keep pointing fingers at us, and it is not true, we love each other, and are so afraid, and would do anything to sleep. I am so tired.
It’s pouring rain, I have been walking a long time, pacing, in the darkness and lamenting the fact that is raining and I am cold, and wet and tired, in this moment I forget the day’s events. I forget begging the universe for a shower, saying I was thirsty and could use a drink of water, crying for someone to help me.
My head is very loud, racing thoughts that sometimes threaten to drive me mad, screaming at me, and a lot of the time it is hard to hear anything at all. I am trapped in my own head sometimes, a prisoner to my racing thoughts, chained to the walls of my mind like an inmate. My hands are hot, because I have my fists clenched, my palms are bleeding on both hands, and they are burning, the rain feels good on my skin, kissing it with the raindrops, it takes me out of my angry ranting thoughts and reminds me of earlier in the day. I think I am crying, but can’t tell the difference between my tears and the rain, the only indication that I am crying is that I feel like I am gasping for air and have been not able to catch my breath.
This is just a memory I have, I don’t know what it is about. I am not sure.
There is a gate, it is up ahead of me. I open it and I sit down, I am compelled to look around, and start looking through a flower patch, there are bones in it. I start crying again, and remember someone I knew who I was looking for, for some reason I think these might be their bones. Something is telling me this, I do not know why. I feel like I am being watched, but can’t keep myself from falling forward and curling up into a ball, I am crying harder now.
I don’t know who is hunting us, more and more of my friends disappear every day and it is not by any of our hands. I have lost five friends recently, and they have never found the bodies, and I am suspicious because I don’t think they died of overdoses, and I know it was not by my hands or anyone else I knows hands, but it is being made to look like that, it is being made to look like the deranged lunatics are taking each other out, and I am afraid, because I don’t know who or what is behind this, but it terrifies me. I am afraid to sleep so I engage in something I thought I told myself I would stop doing, so I don’t fall asleep. I feel like I am going throw up.
Rushing through everything, to serve you, the way you wanted it.
I devoted my whole life to you, now I am haunted, by the hole, you burned
In my soul, and mind, in bind, with time, maybe I can put you behind, like the piano we pushed down the street, in the middle of the night, and then the fight we had,
Because you know I am bad?
I wanted it to be fair, but you didn’t care, my **** your ****
Your **** Your ****
Too bad, so sad, push your own piano next time, hunny.
I am coming to a place of peace, which I didn’t think I would ever know, and I owe that to everyone on here, and my family and friends around me physically, and the support I have gotten from those who gave me medical and spiritual guidance so far. I am very much caught up most of the time, in the blame shame guilt thing. Spaced that way on purpose, because there is awkwardness there for me. I like to control everything because I am an addict, I mean to say, which I know I don’t have to keep saying, but saying it helps me. It reminds me that I am not just a rotten apple, unlike the others that are all just a metaphor for good or bad human beings, that should not be compared to something that I can throw in the trash, but the comparison is made on purpose, to illustrate how I behaved in active addiction, which I do not miss at all anymore.
I am getting over everything slowly. I am still not over the whole Rei/Justin thing, and it has been a year of this by the way. The revelations on this site, were not happening in real time, they were a dilation of a situation internal to my mind, that was driving me insane, which was happening in real time, and you saw on here, me fighting with hallucinations brought on by pain. I am sorry for the false presentation of this, if it consolation, this was exactly how it was happening my life as well, with me thinking things at this screen, just not admitting none of it was happening in real time, because it was too painful to admit that to myself.
I am trying to learn to forgive myself, that I am not all bad, but it is very hard, because I have always hated myself.
Love,
Damien/Amanda
How would you rate your confidence level?
Depends on what you are asking? In me?
I am finding, desperate depressed searcher for keys that I am, that confidence in me means very little, because it is so fragile, speaking of the fragility not in my self, but the idea of placing importance separately on me as an individual.
Searching for something always seems to….I know Justin, you hate seems… but you are not here anymore…
Searching for something always makes it more difficult for me to find it, so I have taken or begun to take the emphasis off me, counting on that things will come as they come. I am a searcher for house keys, who realizes they must be there somewhere, and decided last night to try and remind myself to not over-focus on the quest of dominating assertion that was my desperation to find anything.
ANSWER THE QUESTION
Thank you for the reminder, self.
My confidence, like this post, is fluid. It has no level or ranking because it is changing over and over minute, as I fail or succeed.
My confidence in a higher power, is intensely increasing.
This is bringing me peace.
I am listening, and I have an instant reaction to something you say, and I react and for a second feel okay, I was honest at least, that’s a step right? I am not lying, I am being honest. I am okay with the world and feel like I am doing the right thing.
Then I think about what I said, and the whole world lights on fire, a fire not burning with flame, but with different colors, that I have never seen before, because I have never experienced a world of color before. I have always lived in black and white, never dealing with light of day, with human being, ruler of land of push away. I sit and agonize over things that are tiny and stupid, and then resent myself for doing it, no one does this. No one has to, they are not stupid. I am stupid and think about stupid things.
Then I realize that they know that I do this, and I think I am in some way better than those around me, and that the fact that I do this makes me superior to them, and that if they only knew how specifically hard to be very specifically me it was they would
DRINK USE TOO
I just got this, that this is the process of what I usually do, and that by taking a step back and not hating myself for doing it… helped me. Thank you random stranger in the park that told me this.
What makes you most anxious?
Time makes me scream, it makes me dream of things that don’t make sense or cents, that is not true liar, you have made plenty of money in time.
Yeah, but I spent it all on dimes.. I traded it in for dimes at the cash machine.
I am sitting alone in silence, wondering what it is that makes me have random moments of I am going to fall off a cliff, what shifted, what did I miss?
The shot…
No not that, that is done, and you are
SPUN
You are no fun.
Neither are you not anymore…
Whore.
Ow..
Did I hurt you?
No, you were talking to yourself again.
_____________________________________________
Sometimes, I get sunburn so bad it is on the inside of my soul.
Hole.
Whole.
Consume Hole Whole Soul
Erase Transmission?
End of mission?
Mission to what?
To shut you the **** up.
I have OCD, along with the other litany of problems I have already listed here, heh. I got my hair cut, which is awesome because I didn’t have to pay someone in drugs to shave it all off because homeless people can’t cut hair, and I wasn’t so itchy that this would seem like a necessary choice, so yay me for getting my haircut and getting a normal hair cut so I don’t have to shave my head again. That sucked, I think I mentioned the whole mohawk **** thing… but if I didn’t some ***hole shaved my head into a split in half mohawk, and told everyone to look for mohawk ****.
Short sweet, and very fun for mohawk ****. I got a lot of sympathy, and a lot of free items.. and they found out the wrath of mohawk ****. Then mohawk **** needed to leave, because there was a rumor that I had a twin and one of us was a girl and the other was a guy and the only difference was the voice… convenient… till they found out we were both the same person and it was me beating my ass not my twin brother or vice versa… very bad con…
I threw my phone in the river at around the same time because I thought someone tapped it looking for mohawk **** because tricking junkies is a high crime… and people really give a **** about that kind of thing…. or something I thought when I was way too high…
My dad is a really great person, we had a really good time, he was talking to me about his life, making me laugh, and we went to a really good restaurant and I told him I am done with drugs and booze the rest of my life. I also got to make plans with my uncle to see him at Christmas for the first time in ten years, and say I was sorry for being a lying ***hole.
All in all a successful day for mohawk ****, or me with a shorter hair cut that looks nothing like that at all.
Peace
Damien.
I just got back from hanging out with my dad, and it is cool how different things are now that I am trying to makes things right, I talked to him about all the chaos that I caused, continue to cause because I am prone to delusions, and how sorry I am. I noticed that saying things like this keep me from drinking, keep me coming back to a place, where I can stop beating myself up and are making it possible for me to walk out of the woods where I kept taking the wrong path on purpose and falling in random holes because I thought I was going to find secret gold in rocks I found on the ground.
I think the metaphor for drug addiction and eating rocks and drinking poison instead of doing the simple thing of eating food and drinking water is hilarious. I can’t believe how much my thinking has changed. It’s funny I was convinced everyone is out to get me when this is more true…
Them
Meth
Same word re-arranged…
Item
Time
Same word re-arranged.
Heroin
Hero in pushed together it forms a drug
Divided it references a hero in me
Heroine with an everlasting e it makes me a hero for saving my own life.
Funny right?
Explanation: Shocking, I am trusted to not have to leave, if there is no one here to watch me…
Now this…
Pond, not Stream of Chaos
I am a duck, apparently, because unknowingly
I have been teaching myself to be less
BANG EXPLODE
Like that, so now I can be alone, and not have people
I used to be constantly floating from place to place,
In a race with the human race to consume my tomb in the form of drugs and doom and alcohol which I would viciously consume, in doomed ferocious style, in front of all I know
sowing shame and guilt while also showing pain and guilt through vicious attack on self but also on others eyes, making people cry without knowing why because I am selfish. I am becoming not
I think… I guess.. don’t know…
_________________________________________________
I am a duck in a pond, that is just okay enough with me for now, to not drown
I am not going down
Because I don’t want to
Un-spun I am no longer undone.
I am glad to be trusted, un-dusted, still rusted, but dusting off.
I hate myself, I hate my voice, I sound like a **** when I say anything, condescending **** when I say anything, and can’t do anything normal
Like drink water. I just almost choked on an ice cube… ****.
I drink everything like alcohol still…. doing ****ing shots of water with ice in it. Like it is going to work faster if I drink it in five seconds. What the ****????
I do the same thing with everything, must make everything painful, like just take sips of water when you are thirsty dumb ***
What makes you most anxious?
I don’t do this, and I won’t, never did, never will, always won’t, always don’t dance for anybody ever or with anybody ever, it is awful, and I hate everything about it. I know this, don’t even doubt it. I have a hard time even watching others dancing because it’s stupid,
I don’t see the point and I know it is supposed to be fun, when you are lucid.
And even when you are not, people love this and get caught
Being silly and being taught
To find joy in this but I can’t
I won’t do it, no point no chance, I hate to ****ing dance
Standing and staring someone in the eye, and doing something weird at them, yeah thanks, I think I would rather die, than do this, because it sounds like it sucks.
Stupid, lame, act of schmucks…
I don’t want anyone touch me
I don’t like bumping into things, I don’t like spinning round and round, I don’t like parties, don’t like moving up and down, I am not good at smiling I am good at frown,
I suck, I know, doesn’t show, but **** you, I don’t want to do it, please leave me alone.
I loved you, any of you who was with me, I thought… but now I don’t know, because it always ends the same
You are insane
THEN GO! I KNOW. I KNOW. I DON’T CARE. I DON’T NEED YOU. NEVER DID NEVER WILL I HAVE MYSELF
All you need is love..
All you need is to shut the **** up.
I need no one, but myself. I need to put the drugs and alcohol on the shelf, that is what I need to do, and I can’t do that with them, I can’t know that I am not going to do this again.
I can’t even be my own friend damn it.
I know, Damien.
I break up with me, every day.
I know, Damien.
I know, Amanda.
I know, me.
I know both of us.
I hate me too.
How the **** am I supposed to like anyone else if I can’t even look in the mirror, I hate everything and everyone because this sucks and it is hard, and you make me nervous because I know everyone is thinking the same damn thing that I think about me
YOU SUCK YOU SUCK YOU SUCK You suck?
That’s what you think?
That’s what we think. They think. I think.
Do you think this is fun for anyone, who the **** would want to be around this? I don’t even want to and I am this…
Then stop doing it.
Oh.
What makes you most anxious?
I named myself See Clearly because that is not what I do, I do not see clearly at all, because my ego it is tall, or it used to be I mean, because I am a liar, a whiner and a wine-r, or not really because I prefer whiskey, or anything that is risky like heroin or meth or how about crack or death? You know things like those, things you stick in mouth or nose, or suck through glass, because I want to die, and that’s not true, what I really aim to do is..
Get the *** away from all of you, because you make me anxious, because you hate me, or maybe I do.. I don’t know… but I feel it when it you look at me please ****ing go. I am telling you go away, **** it! I hate the idea of panic and judgement, I hate you and everything you meant
To say, but didn’t, I can hear you thinking **** it, or maybe that is me? I don’t know the difference…
I guess… it’s me… what makes me anxious is me…
and addiction and lack of control and framed photos of animals in suits..
I sleep in oblivion because obviously sleep must be partially that
Because I can’t remember it and that is oblivion right?
Hmm… being dead or asleep, meaning having no power and receiving pardon or amnesty?
Sound familiar?
***hole.
Just realized I called myself my own ex-girlfriend…
Not intentional…
I just told people the truth so now I am going to die, I just told people the truth so now I have to STAB OUT BOTH MY EYES
I don’t know why I do this…
Because you love death’s kiss… ****
I don’t though really? Do I?
Yes, clearly…
My heart is pounding really fast… and I feel like I am going to crash into everything around me and I am dying but that is not real and I feel like I want.
Jump into a moving car.
SCAR SCAR SCAR SCAR I am very far away from reality, circling a
DRAIN?
DRAIN
Dying human stain…. remove remove remove
remove remove me… from this..
You think this is going to work don’t you?
Yes.
No.
GO SLOW SLOW SLOW SLOW SLOW
In the darkness of night, no one can really see me, because I am not there at all, I am death’s call, I am the act of stall. I am the toll of the bell of the night, I am the activity of a dying fight, I am the passing of anxiety, I am the feeling dying slowly like everyone else, I am cares cast away on a shelf where they can’t touch me, because I am far away, they can’t touch you dumb*** they don’t know where you are… and aren’t interested in you and you are just trying to write to save you from drinking what is wrong with that?
Okay.
His name was Chris which is ironic, because he is a christian, so I think it is a set up somehow, like somehow someone is sending someone to spy on me and naming the characters they send after me in mocking style, because obviously I am that important right? Didn’t realize at the time, how ****ing narcissistic that was, and it is only now, that the paranoia is starting to fade, that there is not some secret plot to take me down specifically, because I am just a lying drug addict alcoholic, and I am not sure why being a serial killer sounded better than that… I have no idea.. it made me feel less powerless… I think.
I am very angry at myself about all this, because looking back at it, I realize how much of *** I was… how even though I thought I was always getting ripped of and deserved so much better, how much better could you expect your life to be when you are con-artist who panhandles for heroin, and basically tries to make people afraid to not give you money. I used to make 200 dollars a day doing this, the key was to look like you are going to rob them for more than they give you freely, and then if you get caught, you are a pretty girl, and you change your voice, and Damien is your ex boyfriend who put you up to it, and he hits you and you just want to get away.
I was such a piece of ****.
Damien
I used to look in the mirror and see myself, and I would look into my own eyes, and swear I could see me winking at me, and then I would black out and become someone else, and wake up doing and saying things I didn’t mean, that were not violent they just didn’t make sense, and I never hurt anyone physically, but just embarrassed myself, and I think that is what this is all about, it is about the fact that I have something wrong with me that makes people look at me different, and it is easier for me if that is because I caused it. I preferred to scare people away, before they ran away because I lash out at people, think things that are not true and am literally always living in a reality that in some way is not real, it was easier to be completely unreal, and violent towards myself and hate others, so I could fund things that took me away from how I feel.
I built my life around drugs after getting my degree, I literally gave up at 21 and was content with getting hammered and then doing coke and uppers and then my ex and I broke up the first one that I lived with, and I ripped him off for 950 dollars and bought heroin.
I lived with this person who I used with for 3 or 4 years, in a glorified trap house, and then moved out because he ripped me off with another person who lived with me on the streets till I started getting ripped off by him and then left and walked from Oregon to Cali.
The stories you will read on here going forward are mostly from Cali. I lived on the streets there for a couple months by myself. It was very interesting.
Damien
What activities do you lose yourself in?
I am very back and forth, a torrent of pain whirling around in a sink, that I kept pulling the stopper of, and I would let parts of me flush down it, not realizing that I don’t get them back.
I pulled the drain over and over, chopping off pieces in my madness, I would let parts of me fall into the sink of destruction watching as I slowly disappeared and using it as an excuse to drink or go soo…….
High into the sky, I felt lost, but free, but I got stuck up there, so high up there.. floating.. in nothingness..
I with real eyes, with non-blurred vision now, that the state of elation I was looking for, was inside me all along, I get the same high now, sometimes, when I am not doing poorly, and I frequently am, but I am trying.. through this, writing to you, imaginary person, and I love you so much for saving my life.
I don’t always remember this, in my cycle of drain life, but I remember it enough for it to be a small way to get out of the drain.
What activities do you lose yourself in?
Re-vision- Soul re-stitching, threads of misery replaced with kindness.
I used to lie, cheat, and steal
In Misery, only would I deal.
Suffering was my main course meal.
I did not eat, I lived on the street, and in pain and suffering I did deal.
I was a cheater, a liar, a thief, if you met me I would make sure you fell beneath…
Me in every endeavor thinking, I was so clever, but really only
HURTING
Me.
Now, I am trying to be different.
ER ER ER __________________________________________________
I am sitting at the table with women who have joined my table, which was mine alone, sitting by myself for a reason… anyway..
They sit down with me, pushing me to the side, of my own **** booth and begin to tell me that they have an inside man, a woman damn it not an inside man. I tell them I don’t speak English in English, they tell me they know I am lying. I know I am lying, but I don’t want to hear this ****. I wish I could give them back the food, that I am not sure is safe to eat now, because they gave it to me.
I eat it anyway, and they tell me it is fine, but not to eat there without them, because the food is not safe, they have an inside man. I ask them why they eat it. They tell me it is safe to consume poison if you only take a small bit at a time. I think they were insane, but I don’t eat Chinese food anymore, I never know what is in it.
“The world’s a hard place, Danny. It don’t care. It don’t hate you and me, but it don’t love us, either. Terrible things happen in the world, and they’re things no one can explain. Good people die in bad, painful ways and leave the folks that love them all alone. Sometimes it seems like it’s only the bad people who stay healthy and prosper. The world don’t love you, but your momma does and so do I.” ― Stephen King, The Shining
The tortured inn keeper, thinks no one who stays at the inn cares about the inn, thinking that the ins and outs of those without the responsibility of caring for the inn indicate a lack of caring,
That is really coming from within, a manifestation coming from the desire to
GET OUT
Of one’s self, pushing those around
GET OUT NO
I am you
The caretaker is a drinker, they think this is because they take such good care of the inn, that they deserve a reward
AN ETERNAL REWARD
Manifesting in alcohol consumption or consuming
POISON
They consume it on the regular, but it is not important the frequency just that it eats their
SOUL
ER ER ER
SAILING
THROUGH TIME
ER ER ER
Back now.
The innkeeper talks to me about keeping fires, about the duties of keeping an inn, and about the need to do things to keep the inn, like make it a little easier, by consuming poison.
I am a frequenter of many motels, so I have met many innkeepers, such tortured, kind hearts, that do not know their goodness.
I can still talk to you though we exist not in the same dimension, all the time at least, I visit you because I see you, you see me and you speak and I hear you because I listen. I listen to everything, to the mutterings of the under spoken word, to the shouting to mad dark night, to the words callously yelled into chaotic dark night, because they used to consume me, but they don’t anymore, because I realized I can cast them out on here.
I travel back and forth to Misery through my mind, and through others, who I see, stuck there, and they speak to me from there. I can see it in them speaking to me, speaking through them now, this came to me last night after a dream, I have been having strange dreams.
I am thinking that ghosts sometimes just want to be heard and are not used to being heard so say thing that they have always wanted to say very quickly and it is up to me to decode them because the universe is showing me them and them me for a reason, positive being the key over negative.
I began training my dog to help me with a personal mission. I wanted to hunt wild boar. It was not just for me, but for her so she would stop chewing on my leg and her leg, because I was paranoid she wanted to eat mine, so I thought maybe she could eat a wild boar’s leg instead.
When I am lucid, I know that she never had any intention, of chewing off anyone’s leg,
Not mine, not a wild boar, not hers
I just thought of this because I am
INSANE
I have a functional brain that works most of the time, but sometimes
IT DOESN’T
And there is no fear in me to admit
WEAKNESS
Anymore, because I have realized that the
WEAKNESS
I had was in my failure to admit things, not in admitting them or making them into other things, in creative metaphor to slay like metaphorical dragons, I was just experiencing
FEAR
And I am no longer
AFRAID
Or have to roll around in
AGONY
Because I cast out these metaphorical demons on a black screen.
I am your admission that your guilt is real,
I am your recognition that your dragons represent guilt erected into a false sense of pride and shame blame that explains why you
FAILED
But I am also your strength in admitting this and
Casting it out.
I am an inner demon, I am a deep seeded hatred, I am a future projection,
I am what you feel, I am who you are, I am who you are in the process of seeing
I am you. I am fighting you
To be real
Because you are an addict addicted to the things that make me
UNREAL
Making you unreal with a desire to un-feel.
I forget sometimes, that I have glasses, getting up in the middle of the night and crashing into walls because I did not put them on. I walk without them frequently and cannot see clearly, because I have gone without them before, for years when in active addiction.
The eyes of others, guide me, but I am paranoid, debating internally with universe, I question intention constantly, seeing things they don’t and debating with myself what is real while they are just walking down a street undisturbed, knowing none of what I am doing in my mind, while they walk peacefully next to me.
I clean my lenses, real glasses not metaphoric often, caught in an OCD futility of see clearly, forgetting that I see things others do not, and I am left to wonder, am I noticing things that matter or do they only matter to me?
What activities do you lose yourself in?
I am standing on a street corner, this time metaphoric, not real.
I am looking into nothing, or myself, whichever one you choose, overcome
By voices, this time internal, not external, not externalized, not demons with painted on despise eyes, not lies or falsehoods, but inner truths, painted because I am listening to me and to you. I am listening closely, with intention to hear, because I have spent a long time, not doing so, with desire to unfeel.
I am wondering what it means, what I do, now that I am focused and listening to you. I am wondering if there is anything, anything at all to any of this for a personal who notices it all. I do not know where I fit in, if I do at all.
I am standing in the middle of also on the side. Existing in the middle, because before I did not have the time, I did not make a choice to listen before, to me, and to you, and am wondering simply in this place, where I stand, what am I to do?
I am told over and over, just watch and to be quiet, but I am confounded with the presence of a mind that exists in riot. I am not trying to assert myself, not this time, but simply to understand, what is the place for my dark mind?
I am not sure sometimes, if I am being guided by the hands of the universe not individually as some lunatic with some mission of importance, but simply some wind-watcher, air listener, tragic tour guide of no one, standing outside in the middle of the night debating shadows that cast on the walls of the houses of the towns I walk through, or right now live in.
I am awoken, by the fighting of very literal cats outside my window, and my mother’s dog is yelled for by my stepfather, he can’t find her, she woke up and he took her to the bathroom and she took off and I can hear outside my window, so I wake up, even though he is focused on something else, I tell him, what is happening and it helped him understand her, and helped him find her.
I wonder how many times before, was I too high or drunk to even hear the cats fighting, and what this all means.
Is there some value to my lunacy, that helps the universe in any way?
I have been thinking a lot about the meaning of life recently, the idea of my will versus the world, and the idea of what it truly means to admit that I am not in control. I have a hard time understanding this concept, coupled with the concept of emotional honesty. I am trying to strike a balance in my head between the idea that I am not in control which makes me want to assert control and the whole honesty thing. I am stuck on the idea that my honest response is to fight against the universe, that I do not have control over, because to not respond honestly would be dishonest which means I would be faking it.
I am just collecting responses on the idea, I don’t know what I think of the whole thing, and would love to know what others think. Let me know if you have any thoughts.
I will be fine, just wondering if anyone has any thoughts on this…
How do I overcome processes I want to overcome, when they are so ingrained in me and making me miserable?
Feel free to tell me what you think, looking for opinions because I have no idea what the answer to this is.
Is this just something that comes with time and effort?
Extremely disturbing content: Meditation for myself- do not read if triggered by anything for lovers of abstract dark horror, not intended for those triggered by anything.
Explanation:
Trigger Warning: Mentions drug/alcohol abuse to show mental change in writer who is becoming less arrogant and better informed in recovery
Trigger Warning: I lied, this is a hallucination powered by Misery
Abstracting Abstract of Soul decay soul facts, revealed in meditating on meditative state of I am not so great but getting better.
and the realization of my word of fixation on fixes and the complications it placed on placement in reality..
Or I am an addict who lied to themselves… or I am an addict and engaged in addict thinking and am trying to live differently, by seeing clearly that I don’t know everything.
I am. I was. I am not the same. I do not have the same thoughts. I do not have the same name. I have gone. I have left. I am permanently changed, I have severed all ties, I have cut out my eyes, I am never the same, permanently change, removal of stain. I have changed my stupid name. I am done, un-spun rewind-ed, rebind-ed, reminded, unconfined, un-twined
Mind designed by me, arrogant yes, but not, just addict caught in re-wiring, and desiring new thought, because FIRST THOUGHT WRONG.
I see flat lines, and dead eyes ______________________________
Is she still still there?
SHE has never been ANYWHERE.
Trigger Warning: About sex workers and drug addiction, and feelings of longing for love, but also needing drugs in active addiction of heroin/speed/alcoholic addict physically dependent on substances to remain not physically ill…About selling love for money, and the effect it has on the soul and damaging effect on ability to find real love.
Item Eyes See Itemization of Love, which is not sent from above
Tick- prick- stick-pin prick- Oh, that felt, like-
I will never be loved until I love myself,
But also like I need no one else other than me, because I can buy love with time and money, minutes spent on standing on a corner holding a sign or getting in cars with strangers, or peddling
POISON
I will never be loved until I love myself
I will never be loved until I love myself
I hate myself
I hate myself
I hate myself
Stop. The clock will not move forward in a state of
Click.
Click.
Look back, it is important to remember and forgive not remember. remember. remember. romance the drug. resent. romance the drug. use.
Need to find a middle ground, recognize what you did, admit it and move on.
Click go.
TRIGGER WARNING: About sex workers or prostitution, and revelation of moments of clarity, mentions drug use and is very graphic do not read if you can’t handle this. I am writing for my own recovery, and to cleanse my own mind and soul.
You were the last man to touch me for free, and now they will never touch me again, because I realize, I charged with the charge of a heart scarred by being untrue to me. I did not want to be with any of you at all. I was not that kind of… person. I charged for the scars to my arms, to my soul, to the eternal burning hole in everything that it is to be me, and give things heroically in falsehood because what I was really doing was buying letters carved in human skin that told stories of heroic-ness, but what I was really doing was sleeping with people for free drugs… nothing more nothing less.
We search your basement hideout for your **** which you already did, I know because we did it together, but you don’t remember this, because we were together for a second, being together in love with each other for the brief second that rocks are thrown on table,
Rock, paper scissor
Scissor, I cut you out of my life, toxic friend, and all men, that make me exchange sex for bitter rocks, cast at my soul.
I like women better anyway.
My dog left me, she stayed with my ex, not my last ex, but the one before. She had a sister, and they never had been separated, so I let my ex not the last one, but the other one. The one before.
I tell myself she left me, forgetting the drive to drop her off at my ex’s house, and how dogs can’t drive, but neither can I. I did not choose that and neither did she. She was too wild and free for where I stay currently, and it is metaphoric in a way my choice to stay away, chained as I was to addiction, locking myself in a metaphoric hotel that represented the real hell of once being in a real hotel with the devil who is really my ex-boyfriend who wanted me to be everything I was not so much so, I realized everything I was not.
The dog who sits next to me now, knows all this, somehow or I feel she does. I came here, and was initially… I am ashamed to say bothered by her.. a tragic reminder of what I lost, as if it was something I owned.
I own no dog, but no one ever does, and the souls of the dogs of this world are very much the same in all their subtle differences, radiating love, unable to be felt by human beings because of their innate trust that only goes away if you are bad to them.
Reflecting on this makes me realize I did the right thing for you, my dear Fiona, and I love my mother’s dog the same way now that I still love you.
du·bi·ous adjective 1. hesitating or doubting. “Alex looked dubious, but complied”
Similar: doubtful, uncertain, unsure, in doubt, hesitant, undecided, unsettled, unconfirmed, undetermined, indefinite, unresolved, up in the air, wavering, vacillating, irresolute, in a quandary, in a dilemma, on the horns of a dilemma, skeptical, suspicious, iffy
Dictionary.com
I am up to the dubious task of trying to do life on live’s terms, although I am doubtful I will succeed, uncertain that the methods employed by others, will work for me, because this whole life on life’s terms thing…. is ****ing hard, and how can a bunch of people who seem as unsure about everything as me, living in doubt and hesitant to do anything without first consuming a mind altering substance…. How can I remain undecided and unsettled by something that is not unconfirmed… It is not undetermined, it has history and its outcomes are definite not indefinite… I have seen it work for other people, why couldn’t it work for me?
Although, I feel unresolved….or up in the air, wavering back and forth…. back and forth… vacillating from I am an alcoholic… to maybe… I could just have one…irresolute in my resolve to absolve from the consumption of this toxic solvent, that solves nothing… but…
I can not live my whole life in quandary, I am in a dilemma, that I have been in my whole life, my tempter the vicious disease of addiction puts me on the horns of a dilemma, pitted against the metaphorical demon of addiction…
Although I may remain skeptical, suspicious and iffy of the outcome, I decide to not drink just for today.
What movies or TV series have you watched more than 5 times?
Jurassic Park
Misery
The Shinning
Pulp Fiction
Natural Born Killers
Are you seeing a theme here? I think if those movies had a poorly written child, it would be my attempt writing my silly story on this blank screen at me for me with me by me.
I love erecting large monsters that make points about society, but are really a reflection of the desire for control of their creator, and end up causing more harm than it would be to admit at the beginning that dinosaurs are cool, but make me feel so small. They make me afraid, so sometimes, I want to lash out and kidnap people, because I do not want to be alone, which makes me insecure and wish for a thick as thieves partner in crime, to have lived my Misery existence with as a natural born killer, but what I really am is alcoholic drug addict talking to myself about killing my wife in a motel, while writing, and thinking about drinking.
Thank you to recovery from addiction, not curing me, but making me realize that quitting drugs and alcohol can give me a life beyond anything I could have ever imagined. I have a family, and I love them, so much. I did not realize that I had crafted lies that were dictating a future of misery and pain, which was making those around me miserable, and that is not far because my family loves me so much.
I am making amends every day right now or trying to because they stuck by me, why I don’t know….
Because they love you, and they are good people, and they deserve love and hugs.
I know. I am doing that now.
Good job.
Thank you self.
Thank yourself.
I just did.
I know.
What movies or TV series have you watched more than 5 times? Jurassic Park Lion King Matilda The Witches Disney’s Robin Hood Matilda Seinfeld The Office Derek Afterlife
See Clearly- You hated yourself not your family silly, you were being mean because your mother loves you sooo much, even now after you were so mean to her.
I hated myself so much, that I created entire realities to justify this hatred, and forgot that those realities created beliefs that attached to very real people, who did very real things for me, like love and give me life. I had and have an excellent family. I was very loved, but my family is not perfect, and neither am I, we have fought a lot and I remember it differently sometimes, because I am guilty, and they say things that make me feel bad about myself because I am guilty not because I am trying to hate them or be bad, or lie, but because I am an addict and lying to myself comes naturally to me, because of flaws with my mind.
STOP MAKING EXCUSES AND ANSWER THE QUESTION
I am, just building back story to explain myself better
BUILDING UP REASONS FOR WHY YOU AREN’T AT FAULT FOR ASSERTIONS THAT HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH THE QUESTION
Okay, forgot what question was…
Wait….question….
What movies or TV series have you watched more than 5 times?
Above list are the movies I am watching with my mother, who is the best, and I love her. I am sorry, mom. You did the best you could with my crazy drug addict, alcoholic paranoid schizophrenic *** and I like watching movies with you, it is the best.
I used to address my problems by address them at someone unreal, who was made of feelings that were my desire to not feel what was really real.
She was a projection of my hate for me, dressed in silk and painted delicately, she breathed, so gracefully, or so I thought, because I hated me and desired nothing but pain stuffing in address at world of pain stuffing into woman unreal, made of pain and a desire to blame me, for life unreal… or desire to not feel.
I loved my silk maiden, my Rei of the sun, it was me, who was lacking, a killer, a silent setting sun.
I painted her with colors of white, and me of read, telling you I killed people, when it was me I killed instead.
I realize now I had married death, and I am divorcing pain to save the life I have left.
I run from an eight ball, or a ball of drugs on a pool table, that is also symbolic for how afraid I am of myself, that I sought death and intoxication above being ****ing human.
Make me human.
Begin simulation.
GO.
I am running, which is not true, I am doing better
Look at me! Look at me!
I am so insecure, and I am sure that it will eventually go away, but I don’t know what to do about now, when I don’t want to drink or get high but I am so afraid of people poking me in the eye, that I do it to myself over and over because it feels so much better than you doing it, which inherently I know you don’t want to do anyway, but I like to show dominance through pain, because it makes me feel special and important and so very unique.
You reek of selfishness Millennial.
Oh, good one cheap shooting ****
You are an idiot.
_____________________________________
I am a flat line, drawn in the sand, killing insecurity with an imaginary massive attack of stop doing this now, forgive yourself **** it.
Okay, fine.
an abortion. I think that is why you were so easily banished from the story, because now I can’t hear you anymore, and I don’t think you are there anymore, and strangely, it feels better, maybe I am learning something after all, not just being an *** online. You were an inner demon.
Rei was Justin, you were their child or the child she could have had with Diane who’s name was Pat.
Demon slayer, I like the sound of that, because demons bug the **** out of me.
Okay, guess I am alone again.
NO YOU’RE NOT JERK
I knew that? But, I guess I forgot.
Of course.
Peace. I am okay now, and everything is about me, and I just hit my vape way too hard. Ow… dizzy.
Are you superstitious? Yes, clearly.
There is an eye in the sky and it is up so high, that I can’t reach it, can’t poke it
Can’t kiss it or stroke it…
Stupid jerk who strokes an eye?
I stroke an I.
Your gross, you stroke yourself?
Yeah, loser, you are doing it right now.
EGO EGO EGO EGO I go I go I go I go
ANSWER ME: Okay, here, I am very superstitious. I come from a long line of a family, who believes in
the evil eye
manifesting their own destiny through thought
being able to manifest it through speaking it out loud
being able to manifest it through thinking it
the power of positive thinking
the power of negative thinking
making lists that make things go away
incantations that make things go away
incantations that are positive self talk
the power of the number 10
This goes up to 11
I like even numbers.
I missed you, and me and this, and you having a life and not whining about everything.
I believe in manifestation of human life that is not real, I believe in the power of words to cast spells that I feel, will make things happen for me, at least in my head it feels that way, but who knows you know what they say
YOU’RE INSANE AND TO BLAME FOR ALL THE BODIES AT YOUR FEET, WASN’T IT FUN PLAYING WITH SOWING NEEDLES WITH DEAD CHILDREN ON THE STREET
If I talk to you on here, it looks like a superstitious allegory or me being silly and not what it is
paranoid schizophrenic
or YOU’RE INSANE YOU’R INSANE YOU’RE INSANE and it is ****ed to be your own best friend.
Is it though do you see the voices I talk to?
YOU TALK TO YOURSELF
OoO that was a sick burn, and you know what sometimes, superstitions are justified, peace MF.
I am a lightning bug, I am the darkness’s hug, love that glows in the darkest of night. I am the universe dancing with light. I exist for you and for them, and for myself. I am love on a shelf that is invisible, indivisible and divided in physical form, manifesting in light for the eyes of the scorned and forlorn. I come to people because they can see me, not coming at all, just being very loudly in a presence that can be seen by the eye.
I exist because I exist, not for you, just as this. I say things because I say them, and you hear them because you hear them, you happen to be here at the time I say them, casting them into the dark night, for no one, but also for me and if by chance they are seen by you and they help you then I have been a lantern, which is not my intention, because I desire to only be me, screaming in reflected light, because I am only a lightning bug, a light in the night, that is present because it is, I am not guidance, and if guidance is found, it is found by accident, and by something that speaks through you to you and is reflected on me, and that is okay with me, stay bright, oh night, with love from light.
I don’t know why I can’t say anything I really mean without being incredibly mean, I mean to say I do not know how to disagree and guess it shows because I either hide or kill and don’t like no’s or yes-es or opinions that differ from mine, and prone to silence or telling lies, and so I have been resigned all my life to sit and stew and not dare ever talk to any of you, because I fear my biting tongue, and ever present lack of resistance, utter insistence on being right and love of the act of fight. I am a jerk, a pain, a whiner a crier, a lover of war, of pain and fire. I am mean and I am ruthless, but my arguments you see are not with you, I do not hate anything you do.
They are with me, and what I lack, and my constant desire for attack and death smack. I do not know what to say, so usually I just go away, sit alone and drink or use, and my soul I sear with cold abuse, I am trying but I suck at this, I do not want to do this, and I miss things I never had because I live in fear and I can’t stop because I can’t drink beer or shoot up drugs, and it is not solved with getting hugs or sitting peacefully on rugs or talking to people you say will help me, they do not know the hell it is to be me
I am just simply without words, and I mean it when I tell you it really hurts living alone because you can’t do life, living in constant strife and being tempted to cut with knife, the very fabrics of your fragile life.
I am trying but I can’t right now seem to see what makes you so happy and so free, I am stuck to sit and to think that maybe if I cannot think of anything else, at least I know, I am trying, hope it shows.
I can change my voice to sound like a man or woman, it is like nothing you have seen coming, I am my girlfriend and my boyfriend, person with four hands that will convince you that is someone who is me is after me, and will stand there laughing, while screaming please save me, he is after me! I am a master of deceit and lies, crafting whole worlds based on the idea of woman despised when I am really man with blurry eyes.
I am the one who is beating me, I speak only deceiving me, everyone already knows who I am, they can clearly see me, spinning webs and telling tales of loves lost and ships sailed that never sailed because they don’t exist, I don’t own a boat because I have lived my whole life in spendthrift style, grabbing at purses with feigned smile. I am so sorry, I am desperate, I had a hard life and just need this little bit of cash to buy a train ticket, so I can get away because he is after me, meanwhile he is me and laughing
I am the one who was always crafting reason for passing blame and shame
because I needed drugs not hugs or shrugs or doves or hope or peace or love or bliss I wanted simply this
HEROIN, a sweet kiss of death an maybe some METH.
I am trying here, I am not a good person, and live now in fear. I am sorry for what I did and mean to say in attitude of a little kid, I was so sad don’t you see? The one I was really fooling was me.
I have maintained the anonymity of my real identity not just because I am a liar. I am a liar, but I also thoroughly ruined my life to the point where the anonymity is necessary because there are certain people who are very angry with me who I do not want to have contact with while I am trying to recover from addiction and try to make some sort of effort to be a decent human being. I have faced the very real ramifications of a life spent back and forth on the streets and in houses funded by unsavory methods. I desire the anonymity because there are certain friends I have that are very unsavory characters, who want to kick my *** for lack of a better word. I faced all the situations in this story minus actually having to hurt anyone. I wrote about that as a way to get justice in a fictional way, and get out repressed rage when what really happened was I had to turn the other cheek and feel like a coward because I walked away instead of standing up for myself.
Damien
The quiet ramifications of a life of pushing everyone away, or I am surrounded by silence because I pushed everyone away.
I hate it because it reminds me of what a failure I am, I have lived most of my life, lying to myself. I am unhappy because I am alone, and have spent my life drug/alcohol seeking. I do not have any friends, my friends I had are all dead or don’t talk to me anymore, so I sit alone all day and write on here and I hate it and love it at the same time. I love that I am no longer surrounded by the negativity I was surrounding me before, which I don’t want, but it also reminds me what I have missed because of my choices. I chose to dedicate my entire life to drugs and alcohol a magnum opus of failure. I am alone all the time forced to reflect on all the bad choices I have made.
I lived as a homeless person, squatter, bum, panhandler, conartist and petty criminal for the last 17 years. I was on a constant mission to fuel only my addiction while obtaining a master’s degree in public policy which I have used as a way to skirt the law. I have not committed any serious crimes. I have panhandled, lied, cheated, gambled, and conned my way through life. That is the truth, the full truth and no lies.
Damien.
I am finally coming to a place in my head, where I realize that I am not going to continue the very toxic behavior I have continued my whole life, the bounce back and forth between love and hate the universe, my fault their fault thing. I am accountable for my actions yes, but I am finally coming to a place where I can say, if you don’t like me get away from me, very freely, and without negativity or resentment. I am doing what it is best for me, my feelings are all very real, I am just insane so I am prone to astral projecting the future.
Okay now that I got that out of the way.
I think I am going to start trying to figuring out what to do with the rest of my life. I am not sure what that even means, I like the writing again, I used to do this as a child, but fell off the face of the earth when it comes to doing anything productive for 15 years. I am trying to get my life to a place where I can take care of my own needs without having to commit crimes to eat and pay for a place to live, like I said before all very real, this is all actually happening, this is where both me and Amanda are, I am just where she wants to be people wise. I am how she sees herself later with who she sees herself later with.
Damien
I am finally beginning to like myself for the first time in my entire life. I have never liked myself my entire life, I did not realize this till just recently, I hated me, so I was constantly defending myself to myself, I did not realize these were not always schizophrenia, but personal demons that were very different than the voices, they are easier to deal with and have started to subside now that I have begun to remove the toxicity from myself and my life. I am so happy to be free of all this. I am so happy to be free from everything that was making me so miserable, every day, and it’s so silly because a lot of it was me doing it to my own self. I realize that now, but the thing is the position I was in was partially responsible for everything I felt, not in the taking away accountability from me kind of way.
I am accountable for all the things I have done, but that does not mean I need to destroy myself over it and resent others for the things I am doing to myself, with my own hands. I am sorry to those that are hurt by me, to those who I metaphorically killed, because I am not a real serial killer, just a personification of addiction and manifestation of the guilt of an addict who did not realize how much they did not have to put a mask on the truth that they blame themselves for everything.
I was Amanda, but I am becoming myself, Damien de Soto, take it or leave it. I have never killed anyone, just facilitated the death of addicts through never saying stop using when we were getting high together, my daughter is real to me, in my world of future, but she is not real for Amanda yet, and I hope you understand what I mean by that I was not lying when I said anything I said, but rebuilding a soul for a life that I thought was already over, as Amanda and built for me, her future self, I am very much real because these are her real thoughts and feelings, and my family represents families she just recently new and one specific child who she never stood up for because she was getting drugs from their parent.
When asking what I did about my daughter, I was relieving a past feeling of resentment. Amanda called child protection services on someone who she had dealt with in the past, because she did not like what was going on in that house, and she and I were asking the universe if it was done out of resentment or if that was truly the right way to handle it. I think it was, she secretly does too, we both hope the kid is alright, although we never followed up to see if they responded to our call.
Thank you for your support it means the world.
Damien and Amanda, but mostly Damien.
I just went to a meeting, and had the most intense experience I have had in my entire adult life, better than any high I have ever experienced, better than any good day, any high, any feeling I ever had that was what I thought of as love, I am amazed at the power of just being honest right now, and was just lifted up by an entire room of people who are my friends now, and I didn’t even realize it. They care about me, and actually like me as a person, and I have never had that in my entire life. I have never had friends that weren’t business associates that were tied to a life of well… you know. I am blown away by the power that honesty has. I am so free right now, from everything that was racing through my head yesterday. I think I am beginning to understand what the whole serenity thing means.
I realized that a lot of the time, I get caught and stuck on something,
They tell you not forget the past, so I got over-focused on it. I think I am realizing that there is a middle ground for me, and I see it, and it is great. I feel so much better now. I am finally beginning to feel like there is hope for me after all. I am so happy, but will inevitably be back and forth about this, I am told that is normal.
Thank you for listening to me.
It means the world.
Damien
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.
We are talking while I watch Rei do the rest of my drugs out of the corner of my eye, Chicken tells me he is named that for his skinny legs, but also for a show that had a similar name for a place where things that were similar to my friends chicken business where made and sold.
I am learning from chicken how deeply he hates the world that he is in. He tells me that he only does what he does, to deal with what he hates about himself, he is a self hating gay man, and in love with my friend Richard, who Amanda sleeps with so that she will get certain things, while I am dead, or asleep, either one, same damn thing, it is okay because I don’t remember it, so it didn’t happen right? Isn’t that how it works? That is just what they tell me, in places where people go to say things to people who are supposed to care.
Or aren’t you a bit paranoid? Don’t you think that is a bit… far-fetched?
No. I don’t.
I don’t at all.
“Wherever they burn books, in the end will also burn human beings.”
– Heinrich Heine
EXPLICIT CONTENT: Post uses poetic analogy for the addict backed into a corner and told to drink, when this happens we sometimes attack like a killer or a vicious dog. This is metaphorical only, I have only ever killed anyone with my silence, not saying anything as my friends died in active addiction. These are allegories in all gory glory.
We are in a basement, a base meant for debasement of everything I have ever come to know to be true about myself. I am looking into the eyes of a woman who I used to know, I still know her, but I am choosing to forget this right now, not now but then.
Rei hands me a bottle, it had booze in it. I think she is handing it to me to drink it, it is everclear, funny name for alcohol that makes you so unclear..
I get pissed, so I put a cloth in it soak it in alcohol, by dipping it in the bottle, the smell of it disgusting, I hate it. I am sickened by the smell and want only to get it off my hands. I light the rag on fire, and she tells me the girl who sits in front of me wants me to drink it. I have been up for five days, and I would have known that what she is saying is not true, had I not been high, and been thinking clearly not thinking under the influence of things that cloud my mind.
I throw the burning bottle at the woman’s feet, Rei thinks I did this to burn the woman alive, and laughs. I was aiming at the book on the floor, the **** had a copy of a book about alcoholism at her feet, hating the irony I want to burn it.
The girl burned alive, because I can’t look in the mirror.
I watched because I couldn’t figure out how to put it out.
Where they burn books, they will, in the end, burn human beings too.
Heinrich Heine, Almansor
I was writing a book, by myself, and my ex got involved in it and made it about us, like everything had to be, about us.
She was writing a different story, an allegory, a sermon, a plot device, for a human being, to be controlled like a character in a story, because she knows the obsession I have with words, and wanted to stick a pen in my eye, so I could no longer see without her help, then bound to her I would not be able to leave.
I am writing a book of my own, about something, although I do not know what it is anymore, because I no longer have any idea what life is anymore, so I need to figure that out first.
I have been burning books my whole life. I have had 3 copies of the book from the meetings that I go to, and I have burned all but two of them. I have burned The Bible, because I thought God would stop yelling at me if I burned His book.
I have burned every single book I have ever written, I have written like five of them. I put this on the internet so I couldn’t burn it.
I could light my computer on fire, but it doesn’t belong to me so I guess that is what has save this one. I am done burning books, I no longer need them for kindling, because I am no longer a homeless addict, running around the streets doing drugs and drinking. I would not burn the first half of this one, that she wrote with me, because as much as it pains me to say so, I still love her, she is just flawed and toxic for me.
I am going to start reading books instead of burning them. Maybe then and only then will I know what all this means.
In case anyone is wondering after the public display on internet of my complete meltdown, I do not miss her at all. I am realizing she never loved me because I never loved me, so I am done with relationships, until I can learn how to walk again. I feel like I broke both my legs and have been trying to pretend they haven’t been broken for 15 years. To avoid permanent paralysis I am going to stop walking at all with anyone, walking meaning dating, and a metaphor used because dating is supposed to be a walk outside one’s self. I need to be within myself right now.
I am so lost I can’t get lost in anyone else’s eyes, because people only see reflections of people, reflected light cast to the eye in shadow, and this is too dangerous for me right now, because I am mostly in shadow, having never actually looked in the mirror, I don’t know the difference between me and a lamp, and I think this has always been my problem. I think I was so crazy because, I did not even know what a human being was, because I had been told my whole life, it did not matter what it was, because I wasn’t one anyway, being a monster addict, with paranoid schizophrenia and a split personality.
I am going to try to learn how a person like this can do something positive with their life, because I refuse to believe the only place for people like us, yes the royal we, is on the streets screaming into the chaotic night.
I am so sorry for anyone who worried about me, because of my loud public spectacle, at least I get it in my own room this time, on this on this blog only.
Which animal would you compare yourself to and why?
I like the Lion King a lot because I like things that don’t take life seriously, because I don’t want to take it seriously, even though I take it more serious than I need to, and put myself through hell because of it.
I wish I could be the kind of person who is able to laugh at the darkness the way I pretend to but I do not actually think the darkness as funny as I pretend to. I just do that because it is easier to do that than to cry out loud and hear myself sounding weak in front of people who are strong enough to realize that being strong means feeling the very things that I consider to be weakness, and being a human being who loves and feels fear, and lets other people hurt them, and hugs people and is kind. I am not good at any of these things because I like to do what I want when I want, because I am selfish and an addict. I am not a bad person, just crazy and I am trying every day to be more like those I admire, the kind people of this world, who act with bravery and give hugs and love life, who laugh and love and share and are kind to each other, I am trying to be like you ever day because you inspire me to be better than I have ever thought I could be. I love you guys. I love every single one of you. You inspire me to be better than I ever could be.
I am thinking about leaving Rei, for the time being anyway. I am sorry for the very public, fighting through me talking to myself. She left and I am alone now, my daughter is with me asleep on the couch. I don’t know what I am going to do, and there is way more to this then has been revealed on here, and I might change my mind in two seconds, but I don’t think so.
Later.
Damien
To anyone reading this, I am having a major meltdown, I am sorry. I just can’t do this……… I am not good at being human. I am so….I feel awful, I feel like nothing I do is good enough. I just want to lay down, and have someone tell me it is alright, but it is not okay. Nothing I did is justified, but can’t you just please forgive me or leave me? I just can’t do this.. I am in love with you, and I am sorry for who I was, but I can’t change any of it, please stop… I am not good at feeling things, and I am trying my hardest, I barely just admitted I have feelings. Please stop ripping my heart out. Please. I just barely admitted I had one. I am so sorry, please stop. If I say I am sorry over and over, how many times do I need to say it before you stop? I am a bad person I get it, so please just leave me if you hate me.
I am sorry I was with someone you don’t like. I am sorry for everything, but I am a person too. Please. I can’t do this anymore. I just… I can’t do this….. If you hate me so much because I was with her just get away from me.
I love you, but I can’t do this, I can’t hate myself anymore.
I am done. If you are going to do this to me. I am done.
Damn it.
I will be back with an update later, I am exhausted, and I don’t even know what to say.
Damien
What? Be like you because I am not and that is so unfair, especially since I am supposed to be the evil narcissistic jerk, isn’t that what I am? Right? I am the one doing this to me? So let me do it to me and leave me alone? And if you hate me so much leave me alone. I am a wreck, we have been over this, so leave me alone. I am not going to pretend anymore to not be. I am done doing things you tell me to do and then having you tell me to do something else, pick something.
I am who I am and if you don’t like it, I will leave.
I hate this.
Leave me alone.
Damien
That was so much easier. I liked that there were no expectations with that one, why do I have to be the person you love who is that and also the person who is trying to get better and if I have to do that, how can I do that and be honest if you don’t like what I say when I am freaking honest? Does anyone here see the rock and a hard place thing? I am not a very easily liked person, stop pulling my strings and expecting the things I say to be any different. I tried being quiet and you didn’t like it, I tried lying and you didn’t like it, I tried being… I am done, can we just admit you don’t like me so you can leave me alone? Please.
I am okay with that for right now.
Please just leave me alone. I hate myself enough already. I know I hurt people. I get it please stop it. I am already wringing my own neck for it.
I don’t get it. I don’t know why I have to punish myself so they can see me do it and then be happy that I am being punished.
This is not fair. I don’t get why I should have to be happy to be punished, I get that I did whatever I did and they are mad, but I am a human being too, a horrible one but how am I supposed to change if they think they can just step on me all the time. I am so lost and done and sad.
I just don’t anymore. I am so sorry, please stop tormenting me about it. I get I owe everything to everyone, so just take it and leave me alone. I need nothing. I just want to lay here and not have to pretend to be okay. Is that okay? Is it okay that I am not okay? Why do you want me to lie to you if you don’t want me to lie to you? I am not okay. I won’t be till I am. That is it. Leave me alone if you don’t like it. I don’t care anymore. I get it. I don’t like me either, so just leave me alone please, why do you have to keep rubbing my nose in the fact that I am a bad person, I know I am, please stop. please just leave me alone.
Damien
I don’t understand how she can tell me she is like me and just shut off the desire to get high/drunk and I can’t. I constantly am stuck in this cycle of get better/get worse.. I don’t get it, and it is making me hate the people who love me at least when they don’t get this. I don’t want to. I want to get better, but I am just so back and forth all the time and they want me to move forward, but it is alright for me to say honestly, this is just how I am currently feeling and I am trying to process it, and it doesn’t matter for the second how much you want me to get better, this is the first time this should be about me, and if you don’t like what I am saying leave me alone. I don’t want to talk anyway.
I want to be left alone, by them at least. I don’t want to fake it till I make it anymore, it doesn’t work for me. I don’t care if it works for them. I don’t get it. They just don’t get me, they pretend to, they say they care, and then they demand I do things on their timeline or maybe they don’t. I get wanting me to get better, so just leave me alone about it and I will. I can’t do it the way you want me to. I can’t make everything better right away. I am sorry, and if you don’t like it, leave me alone.
Please.
Damien
I have always been back and forth in my own head with ripping people to shreds and calculating the exact right thing to say and delivering it to the person, and then thinking I am holier than thou for doing it. I am trying to learn to just say what I feel, but it is really hard for me because I know what they want to hear and have gotten so used to manipulating people to get what I want. I don’t want to be like this anymore, but it is hard. I hate receiving anything but accolades, which makes me hate myself, because I hate how I sound. I know I am narcissistic, I get it. I wish my brain would stop beating me over the head with it, and I wish I could stop blaming myself for being honest, because if I do what I always do and go back to saying the right thing all the time, I am going to just reward myself with getting high or drunk and I don’t want to do that either. I wish I could divorce myself. Haha.
Damien
Elliott Smith, Between the Bars
I am having a really tough time, going back and forth in my head, I think is because this is the longest I have ever made it in recovery, I am writing this for me to remembering how much I hated meth at the end.
I need unpleasant reminders sometimes: Trigger warning about coming down from Meth
I am standing outside in the rain, it beats down on me, pounding against my hot sweat drenched skin, it feels good, mixing in with my sweat drenched meth soaked fire skin, that itches so badly I want to rip it off.
My clothes cling to my body reminding me that I am human and a prisoner, in a world with locked doors, I am smoking a cigarette, praying over something that does not deserve a prayer, do not let it go out because I bummed it and bummed the light to light it and don’t have another one and if it goes out, the 10 minutes of peace I have before figuring out which bridge to guard for the night while clenching my teeth and hoping to find a person selling the antidote to my upness… In other words… please don’t take my ten minute delay.
I need this yellow light of slow down of
Traffic beeping so loudly in my brain, I can’t hear anything anymore, the rain mixes in with the screaming of an *** that’s drugs were clearly better than mine, ****.
For a second I envy his madness, and then remember, that I have been up for five days, and they aren’t even working anymore and I need to find a ******* downer…
And some booze, and a lighter, and this isn’t fun anymore, I wish I could lay down without feeling like there were roaches all over me.
I hate my life. My jaw hurts and if that **** doesn’t stop screaming I will stab him… Did I say that out loud or in my head?
Did I say that out loud or in my head?
That too….
Screw you too, I am talking to myself, because I am crazy, and it’s raining and no this is not your bridge!
I will stab you!
Oh, yeah bite me!
Write a letter to your 100-year-old self.
Dear Self,
I know you forget this often, I love you. I am not saying this out of some weird desire to do something deviant, and stroke my own ego. I know that I sometimes forget that I am human being, that I have feelings to, so I hope that this finds you not in that state of mind, which I imagine it will because of how I feel right now. I love you, self. I am not saying that to be psychotic, and I am not doing it out of mental illness, I am doing it because I am trying to put a post it on my own fridge in the future. I want you to know that no matter what happens, whatever ways you fail, things can always get better if you just keep trying. I know this now, so I know you know this too. I just wanted to remind you that you love yourself. This is not weird or wrong. It is something everyone else does, that I forget to do because I used to use it to make excuses to hurt myself because I am an addict and alcoholic.
That is just who you are. It is no different than having ADD. It is a disease that causes lack of ease and makes you think things that justify doing things that are irrational like killing yourself with something that poisons you, because you have a deviant response to alcohol because of an allergy your mind has to it, like being allergic to oranges. Don’t hate yourself because of this, you are allergic to latex, do you hate yourself because of that? No. Same thing.
Love you.
Yourself.
I really felt like I was drowning under the weight of my own self-hatred. I felt like I had my hands around my neck all the time, strangling myself, to prevent anything else bad from coming out of me and infecting the world, feeling like I needed to be punished for everything I had done when I had no idea what I was doing. I blamed myself for everything that had happened but I also resented a cold, hard, world that I believed to be cruel at me specifically.
I believed if people only knew what I had to deal with they would know why I did what I did, so I started talking in the meetings, about my situation and trying to get people to understand what I did was justified, justifying it to myself, without knowing that no one had asked me to justify my decisions, they already understood that I had done what I had done because something is wrong with me, and they have the same problem, and get it even though they are unique, and yet the same. I didn’t get it until today. I am not unique or alone, I am just an addict and alcoholic and I don’t need to hate myself anymore, I just need to try to be better and that is enough.
I am so happy I realized this before killing myself.
Damien
I didn’t realize until very recently, the mental shackles I always had on. I thought I was so free running through live without an obligation, and not obliged to help anyone, making no ties with anyone, so they couldn’t do anything to infringe on my freedom, the most valuable thing to me. I don’t think I have ever understood what the word freedom even means. I thought myself free because I had nothing, no obligations, no friends, no home and thought I was the most free person in the entire world. I was so wrong, man. I was the most shackled person in the entire world, I was chained to something that wanted me completely alone.
It wanted me to hate myself, telling me I was insane for feelings of being someone born in the wrong body, telling me everyone hated me, that I was wrong about everything, my taste in everything was a symptom of mental illness, had me believing I was not someone worth saving because I was not worth it.
My resentment of the whole thing has caused me recently to lash out about it at meetings and I have been met with the strangest thing. I expected to be shut down, put in my place and then told that I had to bend to some system, to which I was to be shackled and inevitably fail at upholding. The strangest thing I experienced recently, is that I was completely wrong. I know that is weird to say now, but I didn’t feel that way before today. I thought my life of deviant behavior was met with the punishment of sobriety. I even felt like this when saying things that sounded inherently positive on here, thinking myself just lucky to be alive and bending over and doing whatever they said to do like some lost dog.
I know now I have been freed today, and the rest of my life, by the realization that the shackles came from resentment not the meetings, and they were taken off by sobriety and the meetings I am going to that are saving my life, by letting me know that I am not unique, I did not fail in any unique way. That is amazing. It is not a punishment to be where I am, it is a very rare gift, and I am so thankful for it. I have a friend in every individual in the rooms of recovery, because even in all our uniqueness we are so very much the same, and they accept me instantly, without excuses. I don’t know what to say. I am so happy to have realized this before I killed myself over the guilt I felt.
I will inevitably go back and forth about this, but I know this in the back of my mind now, and it has saved my life in amazing ways, thank you to everything and everyone that helped me get there.