I no longer know what the goal of the site is, I write horror fiction, and love letters to myself.
This site is a tool to facilitate the act of seeing clearly, written by hands that used to hurt myself.
Explanation: I am Damien, I speak to my split personality Amanda. I am two people in love with each other, and I am okay with that now.
I have paranoid schizophrenia, narcissistic personality disorder, bipolar II-manic/depressive- rapid cycling, depression, anxiety, hydrocepholus, narcissistic personality disorder suffering from alcoholism, drug addiction, alcoholic. with OCD and PTSD- was addicted to heroin, meth, crack, alcohol, cocaine, prescription pills.
I am drug addict/alcoholic/dual diagnosis/ex-homeless person.
Through dark horror fiction I rake the muck of the lives of street addicts.
Or in plain English this is an epic poem/novel about addiction told about low bottom addicts in horror style.
I am fear, I am regret, I am worry, I am stained with past remorse, I am forward course through wonder, that can send you under. I am stained with wondering what could have happened if, I am an ocean of if.
I am what now, without going down.
Waters are around me, because I am in an ocean, or in the air, it matters not where I am, just that I am, where is irrelevant, I am in waters or air, surrounded by being, the act of being swimming in air or waters, in forward motion, keeping my head above, trying to not drown in worry, trying to not be the act of looking down into all-consuming depression, over what if I had done something else, I am the what now of looking forward, and not being consumed by the idea of you are doomed.
The idea of regret, the idea of fret, is a pattern, that encircles us that good at drain rotation, the whirlpool sensation, that can be so comforting, I am trying to swim out, but sometimes remain in the circle of look down.
I am looking back without you there, because you never should have been to begin with. Now that you are not with me, I see we never should have been at all, so to go forward, I need to look forward, by looking forward backward forward.
You are no longer with me, because I should never been with you, and although I liked you then, this was always true, always will be too.
You were a sunset, as beautiful as one, sometimes, but you were a sunset all the same, an ending, not a begining, but an ending, of a time, when I didn’t know myself, and didn’t want to.
Vanilla, the Chihuahua, was a very fast dog, it ran back and forth, all the day long, it liked to bark, to yip and to bite, and it was not out of character for it to get in a fight, it would bark, yip, and scream, at all passers-by, and if you got too close, you would have to watch with your eye.
The dog was not above going through any activity and would get fed, and needs met, it was good at productivity, it had a routine, it would do all day long, and believe it or not, it could even pretend at human sung song. It was good at panhandling, good at obtaining a meal, good at making people watch and making people feel, its owner much appreciated not having to steal, it loved the dogs joyous running, and barking and glee, happy to have something with to peacefully be, they made quite a couple, a joyous connection, and at night they slept beyond police detection.
I went on a walk once, moving at a fixed pace, was walking for clarity, for clear mind and meditative space, thinking about my life, I passed a set place, with picnic basket and mirror, which reflected my face. There were no people present, no one in sight, I looked all around, and though light was still bright, I could not find them, they seemed to have gone, all they left was a mirror, set with lyrics from a song.
The song spoke of Grace, a girl with given name, and how she meditated on fire, and focused on flame. she would look at the light that would cast on her face, and in that place, she would see amazing grace.
Color me clearly, I once was blue, now I am any color you want, not associated with you, I am dark, I am stark, I am colored like night, I am green, I am mean, I am the color of morning light, I am the color of sunset, I am the color of day, I am the color of joy, not taken away. I am the waves of the ocean, I am the sky, blue for all, I am matters, in free for all.
He is around you, He paints reality for big and small, He is the sky, He is all.
I am dark colored, like an eclipse.
I am a depiction of reality’s kiss with human being’s eye.
I am All that colors the sky.
I am representation of pure love.
He is there in darkness, He is there in the rain, He is there in sadness, He is there in disdain, so do not anger, you can know the light, you need not falter, He is there through the night, He loves all creatures, all life big and small, He is my master.
He is reality, He is the truth. He is wanting removed.
In them I see you, inherent in everything they do, being so seperate from me, so much closer to divinity, so much higher than I could ever be, please bring me closer to you, I have been silent, because I began to use my hands to serve myself, selfish and self-seeking, please take them back, to serve you.
I am looking at the light, and seeing a picture painted before me, with I highlight, painted places I see you in it, I see you, not them, but you in starlight, thank you for reminding me who you are, being, that paints the night sky with luminance, thank you for being there, for those with downcast eyes.
Roll the die, I will bet we get a better roll, we the one with two souls, make it good, make it quick, maybe this time, the idea will stick, that we are one, but we are two, and we get one roll, not four or two.
I am standing blaming you, blaming them, blaming something higher, blaming something below me on fire, blaming circumstance, blaming the wind, maybe one day I will begin to win, but not today, snake eyes now, maybe I should just stop staring down, get my **** eyes off the ground.
The bridge over Hell, is frequented by many who live to tell, they come often, and stare down, and do not smile, and do not frown, the simply stare at the ground, and make sure always to keep eyes to ground, never looking up nor to the side, but deep inside their own souls, because inside burn holes, which hurt and ache, and are the reason they stare down, and do not smile, and not frown, but only meditate on death, and think about the lives they left, and it is Hell that preformed the theft.
I am frequented by all those lost, who ignore the idea of cost, for the sensation of toss, of hurling, and of whirling down, and love the sensation of pound and down.
I am sought by those who pretend and defend the act of loss of soul and act of bend and defend.
Look not at me, but at yourself, I am just defense of myself.
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.
I am getting good at this, baby. You can leave now.
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.
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.
I loved you baby
I am not anything I seemed, a crying, screaming nightmare, a hellfire vacation, where the only situation that was in any way relaxing was fixation with elation, go away and let me die alone, I am not the one you want to talk to on the phone, I am forever in pain and forever a drain.
You were not like, I painted you like me.
You were so above, my sorry diss ease.
I could not have you, because you knew I was a liar, addiction to meditating on a funeral pyre.
Candy was dandy, and liquor makes me sick, though I am sick to begin, with anyone I am with, I am not able to love, when meditating on cry, she was so sad, because thoughts of her make me sigh, she asked me to quit, but I cannot lie, she was not enough, so I decided to lie, and instead to do things behind her back, meditating on death and on my soul’s lack.
I love you like the sun loves flowers, how the rain loves the soil, I love you forever and ever, and hope you never forget this, with you reality is just like this, the kiss of pure bliss.
She was a gardener with beautiful flowers, she grew flowers of Joy, they grew in an un-fenced area, and were aided by methods she did employ.
Flowers grew there freely, and were open to the light of the sun, they were not fenced in, and were in site and in sight for everyone.
She did not fence in her flowers, as that would hamper the sun, the sons of man and of woman, as her flowers were for everyone.
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.
My wrist, my wrist, my wrist, and this….
I had three of my finger tips amputated due to heroin addiction, annd injection site infection.
I am bone loss
I am the disintegration of neglected, injected, flesh.
I am an amputation due to heroin addiction.
I am forgetting you are a being with flesh.
I am the act of ingest, things that make flesh decay, I am not heroic, and let my flesh pass away.
I liked being present all day, instead of being a voice in your head if that is what you mean..
You always have to respond in that way, don’t you.
What with sarcasm? Yes, I do respond with sarcasm, but not always, ***hole.
You are a jerk.
No, neither of us is a jerk, and I love you, by the way.
I am the realization
Real in me, real eyes, seeing as a real I, that despise is not wise.
Real I, meaning real me, who is who I am, which is not who I was before, who is the fusion of two, two beings seperate and different, which is the fusion of two seperate and equal people, who are chased by the same things, for me resentment and for her the very real person who has a different name than on this site
Rei Clearly, clearly a name given as a place holder, a space holder for the idea of transition, out of a place of superstition to a place of real i zation, or real I sensation through me, with name see clearly, because it should have been so clear to me, that I am me.
I just thought that was a funny title, I like plays on words. I have been in a *****y mood because of chronic pain, from arthritis in my hands, it runs in my family and is made worse by me typing like a lunatic, and also the amputations of the tip of my thumb, part of my middle and index finger, that is due to heroin, meth and alcohol abuse.
I also have had probably 20 revisions of a VP shunt because I have hydrocephalus, so I am getting used to my normal pain level while not doing meth, heroin or drinking. I have never been sober/clean in my adult life, so I apologize for my continuous neurosis, complaining.
I am a leaf in a box.
I am a leaf in a box.
I am a leaf in a box.
My nerves die places that I want them to not, and the rest of my body is on fire, and I am not allowed to have peace, and I don’t know why?
And mysteriously, I am alone, now, and the annoying female screaming voice, that shares my body with me is gone, because she in fact is everything I belief her to be.
What a whiney bitch like you? Is that what you want to say, master of nuerosis? Is that what you need to hear right now??
I need to hear nothing.
Then why are you talking to yourself on a black screen.
I was trying to talk to someone else, who hates you.
Oh, sick burn.
Thank you, Damien.
You’re welcome, Amanda
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 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.
I am good, and you?
I am fine, do you want to go to the appointment, or should I?
You do it, you are better at filling me in than I am at doing it.
I am not even going to say it.
I know, I know, oh and joke on purpose.
We are ridiculous, and most of the things on the page have been borderline ego masturbation.
I think schizophrenia is more appropriate.
You are the Goddess of the Rivers made of stardust, and light, you are a creature of reflection and of dancing in the night. You come to those who are drowning, and addictied to act of fight, you are creature of pure reflection, and save the infected, sick and addicted to spite.
I meditate on you often, even though I do not quite understand, being a creature of habit, I am sure of one thing only, and that is,
I do not understand you right-ly.
I am not saint-ly.
I am a liar and a theif.
I am a creature of swamps and of things that dwell beneath.
You are a Goddess that is above me, and so I am stuck looking at the skies, but it is hard to not go below, I am a creature with downcast eyes.
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.
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.
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 am so very safe, because you are in your place, and I am in mine, paranoia, put in it’s place.
You are in my mind all the time.
I need to meditate on something else, but I do this instead, because I like to make sure I do things all the way, so I am stepping on my self- ass er tion.
I am self-assertion, reality desertion, I am dying because I have to in my owner, this is illustration, to show my owner, that I am bad, even though sometimes my owner is glad to have me… because my owner is insane.
I am. I am. I am.
Look at me, oh so very free, look at me.
Without you my life is hell, and though I live to tell, I can tell you I am quite unwell, I only talk to myself, and dream of bottles no longer on my shelf, and dirty pinging needles, and rocks that taste like batteries, it is quite sad, being this mad…
I have realized now I am insane, and that it was not my disdain for you that caused me to want to leave you there crying on my arm chair, playing with your pretty dark hair, you are on my brain, my mind, at the tip of my tongue, because I realize that I do not miss being spun as much as I miss fun.
My heart did beat for you once, and became slightly inflamed, fighting narcissism and posion in my veins.
For now I am alone, and maybe someday will bring myself out of myself, and finally use a phone to call someone other than myself.
I 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.
We used to have a multi-faceted superstitious belief system, we meaning you, not me this time. That certain things would bring about luck, and that these things were to be trusted before even our mental faculties. I wonder now, were you just trying to make me go insane slowly?
I represent a lucky coin.
Don’t look at panhandled money until we are done panhandling
Don’t stay together the whole time.
Split up and double the money.
You were lying to me, so you could steal from me, when I wasn’t looking. If I accused you of doing that, you accused me of having an episode.
I don’t know how else to do this, because it is always hard for me to even hear myself think. I am not writing this for selfish reasons, I am writing this on here to you because I really need your help, I am so sorry, I am so sorry that I resented you my whole life, I am so sorry. I know now that you are not responsible for the negative things that happened to me.
Please help me, please help me find peace and independence, I will do anything I am supposed to, please help me. I just want to live a peaceful life and stay clean and sober. Please help me. I am having a really hard time.
I am cemented in the memory of my author, I am cemented in the creator of this image, I am cemented by the creator of this image.
In cement it lay, and forever will it stay.
I am covered over, an image protected and rejected by protection, destroyed by idolization, a picture of objectification, a picture of self-love.
Are you sure that is not just what you are seeing because you project yourself on your interpretation of it?
I am correct.
I am an attack on human soul, by protection of image which in fact eats everything whole, creating the potential for the whole image to become a hole.
Manilla, Manilla, in Vanilla, Vanilla, now just a stain on my brain, you make me insane.
I don’t think the image…
I know, just rambling because I like to hear myself talk.
You are typing.
I am also whispering this to myself, because I am insane.
Is that supposed to be me? Loser.. it doesn’t look like me or anyone we know..
I painted you in a way you hate.
This isn’t even painted, it is a digital image re-touch thing.
Don’t you hate stupidity??
You have nothing of mine, because you do not need it, you are so divine, need no refining touch, so I painted you badly, sadly, tragically so, I love you, though I don’t know you, never will, so sad, too bad, my sweet princess, we will never go to the far below, because I am trying to get over…
Over and over and over, up and out of the of the Hell, that is life without, anyone but me, I do not…
Yes, you do liar.
I know this, that is why I said it.
We are doing the same thing we used to do at the bar, but this time we are alone, without other people doing it too, and without alcohol or drugs… how does it feel?
Like I am cutting myself off at the knees, but I kind of like it?
Good… me too.
I wonder if this will ever get better…
I don’t think it can get worse than this, so I think we will either die, or it will get better… or it will stay just this bad forever and ever…
How bad is this?
I don’t know, it has always been this… so how bad is it really?
I am still alive? I guess that means it is okay enough…
I think I would be happier like this, completely alone, talking to myself as my partner.
Hey, isn’t that what we are doing now, and doesn’t it ****?
Than what the **** are you talking about???
That I am insane, and don’t know what else to say, and I am trying to make someone laugh, even if it is just you?
So you are talking to yourself on a blank screen, trying to type things that make you feel good about yourself?
Yeah, isn’t that what the book of faces is???
I don’t think anyone on that thing is looking in a mirror talking to their own face as if it is another person?
They aren’t? That is what it looks like to me.
That is because we are insane, and it is not what they are doing, because they are not insane.
For us or them.
Well, mostly them.
Why?? Not what I expected to hear…
Because, we never have to be truly alone.
Or, we are always more alone than anyone ever.
Other than maybe Gollum on Lord of the rings.
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
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.
Please baby, don’t go away, I need you so much, you are so sweet, your love is so special, you make me complete. You are my sunshine, my sweet turtle dove, you make me feel everything I thought meant true love. I love everything about you, without you I’ll die, I am ever so sorry I had to lie. You wouldn’t understand, could not tell truth, I need your money, couldn’t tell you.
I needed your money, and feared you would cry, so I told you a little tiny white lie, but don’t worry sweetie, it is okay, I promise I’ll stop, now don’t go away. I promise to always do what you say, now stop your crying and please let me
Tell her everything you need her to hear, she is your source of happiness, now ***hole be sincerce.
I am addiction
I aim for the heart
I take everything you love
I am the act of push and shove
My turtle dove, my turtle dove, you are gone, because I only loved myself and that bottle and needle and spoon on my upper right shelf.
Which is great for me, because the building I was living in at the time was not dark, but was abandoned, which I told her…
she said it was edgy, whatever the **** that means, apparently being a junkie is edgy? I don’t think she knows what edgy means. I don’t really have much of a choice of whether or not she is coming with me because she kind of just started following me to my edgy ****hole of an, “I sleep here till I am told to vacate…”.
I am the glamour of the unknown.
I am so free, you do not even know.
I spend every day and every night in a continuous race to erase my whole **** life.
I am talking to her, and I realize she is not even listening to me…..
The oddest thing about the whole thing, was that eventually at some point during the whole thing she just walked away, I tried to ask her where she was going, and she just kept walking, saying nothing, just left…. to this day, I wonder what she wanted, and there is a part of me that still thinks she was a ghost.
I moved my spot the next day, I wonder sometimes if she was a sad junkie that lived in that building who thought it was edgy at first and then died there… or if she was just my brain telling me to stop doing drugs through hallucinations.
She tells me she is crazy
She wants to make me fear her, fear what she will do to me if I do what?
I care about none of this.
I don’t think she knows what the word insanity means, I exist in your bad dreams, I am everything that is just frightening enough to make you go away, so I can stay forever alone, alone, alone, by myself in my own HELL.
I am digital re-touch
I am nightmares never dreams
I am finding self-loathing in everything
Because I am oh, so good at bad dreams
You are screaming at me, and I am seeing this, such a tragic reaction my mind has to the rage of others, making it impossible to hear anything they are saying…
You have no power over me, I live in HELL, you are all bad dreams, meaning nothing, because neither do I
You think you can make me cry.
Oh, so sad.. I have something in my eye… I
don’t cry for anyone anymore, my entire life is garbage on the floor of HELL
You don’t like me, leave then, don’t care, just as well, not changing for anyone, never again. I can be my own best friend, you think I need you.
I need nothing, I would rather die than live in your reality of soul sucking.
GO TO HELL or actually, don’t that’s where I live, and you deserve
soooooooo much better…………
I see you, but I do not, I just know that your hate for me is something I don’t give TWO ***** about.
and I don’t like being burned so I go here, to my own perpetual land of jeer, of making fun of everything around, including me, and ignoring sound,
You hate me do you, do you really? I see it on you ****ing clearly, I don’t know what it was I said, silly girl, wishing I was dead, you can’t kill me with your words. I can’t even kill myself with myself with my ****ing hands, and believe me I have tried.
I am ranting and raving about how it is the only thing, that makes everything allllll riiiiiiiiiiight…………..she is crying hard, I can hear it, but I can’t see clearly……… I think she is telling me to stop because she thinks I am going to die or something……. I don’t think I am going to die…. the two drugs negate eachother… I tell her I’ll be fine, that she can leave if I am disturbing her.
I can’t see you very well
Please get down and go away
I am really not equiped to deal with this
You don’t even know me, and I can assure you I won’t be……missed…….
She tells me she is not getting down, until I get up off the ground. I tell her no and that I will be fine, she doesn’t know me, my life is mine……..I can ruin it if I want…….
Please leave me alone
I am fine
I am resigned to this
This is my space
I hate myself…. I lived in Hell…… and can’t get past….. the past in which I dwell….
You were so kind to try to help me, and I pushed you and everyone else away…..
Memory, memory, of things that were not important enough to me to stop………… making people cry when they only wished I wouldn’t die…
I am so sorry, I never even bothered to learn your name, you saved my life, and I never even bothered to learn your name.
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
What is it you want
You want this?
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.
In the dark of night a fire burns and creates light, the only light under a bridge, in a barrel without lid, burning free for all with site because no one cares no need to fight to hide anything at all because
There is no love for the ever shoved, no one will come to put it out, no one will scream, no one will shout, they want you warm and then want you free, to die under the bridge on your own bent knee, cast to the ground in twisted form, dying from own hand, and sick with scorn, you did it to yourself, now they can say, and so poor addict is thrown away.
The poor exist under bridges of a country, that forgets the addicted and poor and hungry, that ignores addiction and mental illness, and then questions sadness of it children.
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….
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 any power
In the sky
Just me, always, but not forever
I hated me… the whole time.
I used to see through different eyes, not through mine, but eyes that lied, that lay inside my head, but not, caught by despise and forever wrought with hatred read in all I did, they rested in a face of kid-ding and of attack, they looked in the mirror and saw nothing reflected back.
I had not eyes, but reflecting pools, filled with sadness, and with tragic tools to make myself just like everyone else, tools of magic that sat on shelf.
I would drink them and sometimes smell them, and sometimes prick my hands in vain, and sometimes they would make me, able to stand a very clear disdain.
Access to running water
Safe place to sleep
Waking up to seeing my family
Access to coffee, nicotine, and food
In a tunnel in California, I am reminded of my friend, who had traveled the world, and given everything to a woman, who wasted it all before wasting away herself.
She was addicted to heroin, ironic because she was his heroine herself, dying tragically of cancer, while he paid to ease her suffering, not caring that she was spending all of his money, he only cared that he was doing whatever she asked.
I saw so much suffering out there, so much pain, I was so used to it, it is still hard to see anything else. I look for it even now, as I write this to you, but I am starting to open my eyes, and be able to see clearly, they have been shut a long time….
I met you and you were the one I was interested in not your stupid friend who had all the items, you thought I wanted. I wanted none of that.
I initially followed you, and only you, and your very deliberate foward walking, and your confidence, wearing high heals in a snow storm, and scooping up almost dead homeless me off the side of the road in the middle of the night, so I didn’t appreciate it when you told me, you thought I wanted anything else from you other than your company.
You loved misery’s company, me needing you was comforting.
I was to you what I was to lots of those, a wounded bird who is only useful with broken legs.
So strange, the level to which some people are addicted to pain, myself included.
That is why I left, and when you chased me in the streets that night, running around looking for me, after telling me you didn’t want to mess things up with him, after he had tried to set things up with me, that is why I left, not some sort of strange running from anything else.
I was running from ruining your life, like I always ruin every woman’s life.
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.
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 miss you, person who I thought was real, but what I really miss was never real to begin with, the idea of being loved at all, ever, which was never real at all.
You were not real, you were never who I thought you were, because I was never real, not before now, so this is and has always been, all my fault, which doesn’t matter, but I keep thinking it, that I tragically hurt my own self.. I have a problem with the word feelings, I don’t like admitting I have those.
And now this
Please help me, everything that is above me, because I am done with being angry…
And now this
There is a flower, that exists somewhere, in the jungle, that I need to find, because it will cure a disease of my mind.
I don’t know what is, or what it does, just simply that it exists somewhere and that I am looking for it.
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.
Negativity, negativity, you so very dear to me, so very near and clear to me, so inviting, because I like to bite myself.
This is about crows not dogs.
It is about condescending ***holes too.
It stopped doing it, and I don’t know what that other happy sounding bird is… it is less intelligent I think…
That was ****ing mean.
I was not talking to you.
I was talking about you being mean to the bird.
You are the speaker of the birds?
The birds speak for themselves.
Not anymore, they are quiet right now.
That is because you are an ***hole.
No, it is because morning is coming to a close slowly.
I made the birds pretty, and now they are singing again outside because like I said it is the end of morning.
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
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.
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.
I run in Hell, well Misery but same thing, a spiritual pergatory of nothingness, of absence, that is what it is, they say in certain texts that the lack of the divine is Hell, that is what Misery is.
What do you run from?
You are the lack of the divine?
I am fear incarnate.
You are a human being experiencing fear, you are not fear or pain or death, but a human being experiencing those things.
That is all? That is all you have? What?
Did I wake you up?
No, I am sitting right there with you, letting you use my hands.
That’s good, thank you. I don’t like being alone.
I am right here.
Yeah, they remind me that I get acid reflux from drinking, because alcoholism has eaten my stomach lining, killed sensation in my hands, and caused my mental illness to get worse.
For realizing that or for destroying myself?
Which one do you think?
I win, I win, I won, I win.
I did it, I am done, I did it.
Pride is a vicious thing
It has large flapping wings
Is that addressed to me or you?
I am not sure.
I know, I looked in the mirror too, because it is my face too, good call.
I think it is just infection from the hole in the tooth.
Yeah, me too, I am just glad you caught it, Damien, I am not good at catching those kind of things. I..
I spend a lot of time looking at my face.
I was going to say… I spend less time looking at my face..
I know.. I spend a lot of time looking at it because I know you can’t take care of this kind of thing.
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.
How do you know?
I can hear you think too, and you are not as bad as you think. I never hated you, and your ex was a jerk, just like mine, because they are the same jerk.
I know they are the same jerk. I just hate myself more.
That is because you are worse at lying than me.
Why is that?
You are more real than me. I am a facade made of stardust.
That makes me sad.
Everything makes you sad.
That one was really mean.
I know, I am sorry.
I keep thinking about all the lies I told to get things that I didn’t need, and all the times I stole from people to get things I didn’t need. I am not okay with it now. Like even the simplest thing of holding a sign when I could have worked.
Could you really have worked? You spend half your day talking to yourself out loud or crying…
I am serious… I don’t think you have as much to feel guilty about as you think. You were just an addict.
Is that how you feel about you?
No, I hate myself too.
We are the same person, and I tricked you.
I miss a lot of things
Looking at the ground to make sure
I will not trip
I am talking to me.
I am talking to me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The narrator hates themself.
The narrator needs to calm down.
The narrator hates themself.
Okay I feel better.
But really looking for rocks
Or darts to toss
In the trash, because you know it is my goal to
FOCUS ON EVERYTHING THAT KILLS ME
Stop it man, seriously.
Why? I am done anyway.
You are helping me,
You are me, but you are also not, and you are helping me.
Thank you self.
I know, I am having issues, I think it is just what my brain does.
Having a hard time being alone?
I am too.
Is that why you are talking to yourself on a dark screen?
Isn’t that what you are doing?
Then why am I an ***hole?
Because I hate it when you are right
You hate being right? I love being right.
That is why I am friends with myself.
I am the Crow 2.
I am the crow too.
I am the crow to, as well, as an adjective of a human being who steals from other human beings while they are not looking.
I am the crow, two
There are two of me.
Penny for your thoughts?
No I am sparring not sparing change.
I am disdain, acid reign, wishing for soul washing rain.
I am the horrors of walking next to an active user.
I am the non-heroic heroin user.
I am resentment of past action.
I am true admissions of a soul attacking soul attacker
I am hopefully getting over this.
I am actively seeking forgiveness.
I know this comes from something higher.
But I am more comfortable crucifying myself.
I am more comfortable doing this to myself.
I need help.
I have no tent, because I can fly so high, that I need not sleep, because I am high as Hades.
I am a looter of the looted by life, I am the riddler of strife.
I am the stealer of unwatched things, I am heroin addict, unwatched, on meth, stealing while you sleep to buy drugs.
I am the confessions of an ***hole, who is no longer on drugs.
I loved you once, but now I can’t and I don’t want to, so I don’t
I loved you multiple times, and still do, and I am just trying to be honest with you
Hey, ***hole, you’re talking to a glass.
I think I have a problem with peace, consumed with moving, digging perpetually beneath, unable to stop and not do, wishing always for something new, I can’t sit still, that is why I think I was obsessed with you.
Dragon eating its own tell, possessing nothing was just as well, I live in inner Hell, because I can’t bring myself out sometimes, uncomfortable with peace, living in internal, eternal, infernal mind bind.
I tied my own hands, behind my back, because I feel being free, and love the feeling of under attack.
Living in perpetual lack of self.
Bottled emotions of alcohol on shelf.
I can’t be myself, because myself was built around you, who am I even without the drugs and booze I used to use???
I got up early with you, my friend, the one who I was always fighting against, I realize now I was fighting me, engaged in constant battle of insanity, fighting light to see in dark, fighting vision on quest of mark, I fight you but in so doing, poision applies to skin, and reason spewing out of my mouth and from my head, wishing for life, but fighting the dead.
Questing for sun, but lurking in dark, I am the eternal question mark.
I forgot what I was talking about. Oh, well.
This is about powerlessness, your favorite thing, and water is cleansing.
OoO Look at you, show off.
OoO Look at you show off.
That is mature.
Says the most mature person in the world.
I enjoyed the Easter thing, did you?
I wasn’t there, you were.
Yeah, you were. You were just uncomfortable.
I can tell you are glad you won, stop rubbing my nose in it.
Stop thinking about putting things up your nose then.
I am an orange, I am a door. I am closed, laughing ripping away orange skin on bare floor.
You have severe issues.
So do you, I am you remember?
I don’t have the same issues.
Yes, you do, I am just not lying about mine.
So you think food and water are poison, and drugs and alcohol help you?
I am making fun of myself, because I realize how flawed my thinking is.
Oh, good one?
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.
Do you swim with sharks or dolphins.
I swim alone.
You swim with voices, like always.
SCHISM. ISM. ISM.
I am, misery, I am pain I am a
I am the holder of grudge, and I am lost in this poem.
I like to make images different than are, by covering them in darkness.
Swimming in the water is hard, when it is riddled with sharks.
I am the voice of pain.
I am soul reeking disdain.
Mushrooms are a food that tastes good.
Dancing in light is hard, when you live in the ground.
Rising from the ground can be done over night.
I am a fledgling bird.
The smell of moss lights the way, for those with dirty noses.
Under the stars, is found a world, united with ground, but looking up at the night sky. U
Under the moon, is felt the light of the stars, in blue tones, it paints the ground, with the possibility of future lightning storms, the sound of thunder, and ability to hear and see, when before senseless.
I make golden eggs, with a program that re-renders images, because I have no power other than to play with light… or dark.
I remember everything now, I just had someone drill it out of my head, while getting a root canal on my tooth.
A root canal, that dug into the canal of lies, I told myself that made me out to the victim, in a story that was really just a story of one lying junkie that didn’t want to admit that they had fooled themself into thinking no one else knew that every dollar, I panhandled
Every handout I took went to fund an addiction that made me anything but heroic.
I am so glad to be done, so glad to be me, finally, for the first time in my life.
I am still half, that girl, lets call her Lydia. I think she is okay with that now.
I am because I am really also you.
I know, because I am awesome.
I am awesome too.
I know, because we both are.
Being able to deal with getting a root canal without having to be high or drunk, felt amazing, didn’t realize how much weaker being resigned to a life of lies made me feel, so glad to be done with that now, and finally be a whole human being.
I was blind, my whole life, I was blind lived in self-inflicted strife. I was blind. I was blind. I had no eyes, couldn’t see, I had eyes but they were blacked out, they were blurry, couldn’t see. I was blind couldn’t see. Clearly.
I walked through life, walking slow, walking fast, running away, running to, running from, running with, running, runnning, on nothing, no road, no path, nothing, nothing, nothing.
I was nothing. I was nothing.
I was nothing. I was nothing.
I was with him, I was with you.
I was ran. I was running.
On nothing, with someone who was me, who is me.
I ran to things, towards things, and for things.
Just elation, addicted to derived sensation. Nothing more, nothing less, no crime, just desire to injest.
Do you remember?
Do you remember?
I know right?
I am walking out of a dark cave.
I am the assending assention of the never pretender.
I am kindness’s defender.
She was always trying to convince me that I had done something I had not done, she would tell me that I stole our ****. It was my ****.
Justin would do the same thing, he was sleeping with that lady, and he would give money to her, and then accuse me of stealing it.
She said I did it once because I think she really thought you were cheating on him with a guy named Damien.
Hahahhahahhahahhahahaahahaha! That is insane.
No, the truth is actually insane, Lydia.
You remembered it.
I did it just now.
I heard the door slam. I don’t think I did it, my step dad, he says it was the wind. I think it might have been me. My mother says they were fighting.
I was fighting with Diane at the same time.
You were? Why?
Because she is still getting high, and she was pissing me off, she was accusing me of still getting high, while she was high as Hell. I have been clean and sober as long as you.
I know, loser, I am you.
I know you know that, I just forget sometimes. I think she is trying to drive me insane.
I think you are trying to drive you insane, as a justification to get high.
I am riddled with lack, I am the lack of soul, which comes with condescending attack. I am the power of demise, I speak with eyes of despise. I am misery in carnate raw form, I am dead man’s scorn. I am war torn. I am forlong, I am dark thorn, in shoe of human being with very precious heart. I am fear of start. I am the smart.
You are a liar, who has no soul to be on fire, and you will not get mine, you are death, and you can stay the HELL away from me, because I aim to breathe, I breathe breath that comes with shedding fear, and walking away from beer or heroin or crack or meth or weed or anything that makes me so afraid to be without it that I desire to talk to you at all, things that makes all things small, so it can be tall. You have no legs. You can’t stand without piggy backing on my back, herder of swine. You are mine, I am not yours.
This is who I fight, not Rei, this, strong trigger, this is raw, scary channeled nightmare.
I think of you every time I hear the peepers, not my you, the one I found on here that sounds like me, how I sounded when I talked to the burning rays of the sun, and thought I was talking to someone else, when I was really talking to resentmeant.
I married sin, it ate me from within.
I married hate, it made me quite irate.
I married wrath, it made me slay a calf.
I was really married to no one, we didn’t have the money, we spent it on heroin, if I had been married I would have been divorced 3 times.
3 strikes, I am out, of the game of slaying my exes with hexes online, because it is unkind and that puts my soul in a bind, with bought time, before I destroy me, and run on bloody knee into a train, this really happened, so insane, I think in addict brain that I am running from something, and I was, a pitbull, metaphoric because this one I can’t say online, don’t have permission to, he chased me till I ran away, afraid he would take me
OUT OUT OUT
Of the state of being able to say anything about anything ever again
Drive me INSANE
I am the psych patient being told, you can’t be allowed out, unless someone signs for you, and unfortunately you can’t remember your name or who to have sign for you.
I can’t. I am stuck in here. I am stuck sitting in a chair next to a man who doesn’t know his name either, he thinks his name is Sand.
He told me this, and I told him, I like grains.
He likes me now.
I am okay with it here, but I like the SUN.
I am so sorry to the most high, not her, not me, but the nature that rests above me, the moon, the stars, everything I do not own, that I made mine when I said.
I have the right to steal everything, from everyone, to buy heroin.
I am so sorrry, but I don’t hate me anymore, because I have written my resentments out here, and they all reflect back at me, well clearly.
Clearly, clearly, look at me, I am spinning I am free, I hurt myself, by killing my friend in only metaphoric sense, but really I kill my heart, my soul, making me an aching hole.
I would divorce myself if I could. I would divorce myself if I could, I am the screaming liar, with soul on fire, who burned fires, set by me worshipping my own death.
Clearly can’t get me, I get my self. I drink bottle HIGH on shelf, I have cut ears of injured elf… it rhymed…
no no no no no.
I am the soul keeper of my own, my precious because it rings so so so true.
Ode to Schizophrenia.
I worshiped Rah. I worshiped death. I worshiped anything that would keep me in
Faker faker faker. Liar. I hate myself. I put my life in fires of HELL, metaphoric and very real, because I can burn, I can feel. I
am eye of tainted man, of woman too because I am too.
Never alone, never alone, I am never alone. Always here with me. Always at my own face, screaming, I hate you.
I am the eater of Damien’s soul, I am MISERY. I EAT HIM WHOLE.
You can’t get me, I forgave myself.
My family had 3 cats, two of which have this strange problem, they used to refuse to use the liter box, and just go around using the house as theirs. They have stopped doing this, and I have this strange, probably psychotic belief that in some way it is because of something weird.
I talk to them, and am honest with them, and make eye contact with them, and for whatever reason, alongside that, they have stopped doing the defecating and peeing in the house thing. Be it what it may….
I am fine with it, my recent discovery that I am completely insane. I am not going to fight it anymore. I have become resigned to it, I guess… I am just going to go with the flow of a river that has long since overtaken me, maybe I can get somewhere with it, intead of fighting against it , and being caught in a continuous treading of water, I dreaded being in to begin with.
I think the thing that has always been at my neck, threatening to strangle the very life out of me, is why am I here to begin with? If my reality is what it is…why didn’t I die long before this happened… what is the point to any of this, and is there any point to me at all, other than the continuous annoyance that my existence is to those who see clearer than I do.
Where the **** do people like me fit into anything??? Or do we at all???
Why would anything allow my continued existence, if it is based on invalid view point, if any one has an answer.. please share, I have no idea what I am even doing at this point.
I am the caged dog.
Thinking they are smart,
An individual drives to an animal shelter, they are a good dog trainer, having trained many dogs, of all kinds. They drive to an animal shelter, and adopt a dog. The dog has a history of being used to rescue people from burning buildings, but has hurt its leg, so it is no longer useful for its job, and was put up for adoption, out of kindness.
The dog seems nice enough, it sits scared in the corner, but responds nicely to anyone who comes to see it, however it remains in its corner.
A brave soul adopt the dog, takes it home, and it does well except it refuses to sleep in the spot desired for it.
It instead sleeps right by the door to backyard. Thinking, themself clever, the new owner tries to re-train the dog. They want only for it to experience comfort, unknowing of what discomfort is caused by the re-train process, they begin to try to change the nature of the dog.
It takes one month for the owner to re-turn, unsure of why the dog was so good at first, but when presented with normality it slowly slipped into “untrainability”.
All you had to do was let it sleep by the door
Which it did because it had been used to being in burning buildings
And found comfort in being by the exit
Why do the “normal” find it comforting to force the abnormal to be them?
This is uncomfortable for us.
If we are allowed to be
We can recover
Do not try to change us
It harms us
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.
In detail, tracing their outlines over and over in my mind, as I hide, a bush person of falsehood, cast into the bushes by my own chaotic decisions. In these moments I have come to know the trees, and bushes in a way unique to being a forest dweller, or so I like to think, it being better to think that way then to identify with other culture of the woods, which litters the grounds of nature with bottles, in a flagrant disrespect of the loving hands that cradle and cushion our hiddenness with kindness, and bird songs.
The chaos that pollutes these places of sanctity, sickens me. Polluted as they are by creatures of simular making to me, I feel compelled to do something, so I come to these places sometimes, and talk to the trees, thinking it better to talk to them than myself.
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 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
You will never find anything, like me, I am so free, living impossibly in a land that
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.
How about you Amanda?
Yeah, me too. I actually slept.
Yeah, so did I, not that anyone other than you notice because I am alone.
Our family notices, and you are being less of an ***. You actually said you were sorry yesterday, not something I would have done.
It made me look better.
You always have to ruin compliments.
They make me uncomfortable, because I think the person giving them has ulterior motives.
I am you, what ulterior motives could I have.
Yeah, I am awake too, dork, I wake up when you wake up because I am your inner child.
Not everyone has an inner child that wakes up when they wake up.
Meh. Meh. Meh.
That’s really mature.
I know, I learned from you.
Do you like being alive again?
I saw that, you put a period at the end of that before putting the question, you forget I can do it too.
No I just wasn’t typing so I didn’t forget.. I was letting you talk.
Oh, wow, sweet.
So what do you have to say?
You thought so?
Yeah, I thought you weren’t going to talk to me for more than a couple seconds, actually. I am pretty psyched you are talking to me for more than five seconds.
Is it fun being in my body?
It’s way better than being nobody.
Then stop having a hissy fit about it on the internet?
True, I learned that from you though.
True, point taken.
Not even going to say it.
Good, I was thinking the same thing, and no one needs to hear that ****.
Hey, why don’t I have a last name again?
Because you have paranoid schizophrenia.
Then why do you have one?
Because I don’t give a flying **** if anyone messes with me.
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 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…
I see no end, to your voice, see no end to no choice,
I hear you in my head, over and over,
Saying things you said, that I ignored, shut you out.
I would at the time rather have lived without
Hearing that you hated me, wished me to know with impunity, but now I wonder, and I fear,
Whether you were right and so my dear,
I am so sorry for shutting out
All words you said, because I live in doubt, had I listened, had I changed, would I still be in such pain??
Would we both be better now? If I stopped using then, had put it down, if I had agreed, done what you said, would I still be alone and dead inside
I am right now. I wish I had something not life without.
I was stupid. I was wrong, and now I wish I just had gone
Along with anything you did or said and maybe I would not wish I was dead.
You want all my booze, it’s a handle, take it. I don’t need it, I don’t want it. I don’t need to feel okay, you can have it, it is yours, I am going to vomit, my heart is sore, it’s so important, I am not someone you loved, you just want substances not me, I hate this, I would have quit, I would have done it, but you had a fit. You want my ****, not my heart, don’t even ****ing start, don’t make this anything other than what it is.
I am not high. I am not high. I am just drunk as ***, I am not buying you anything. GO TO ****. I quit. I quit. I quit.
Take everything I own, I am going the **** home. I don’t want to drink anymore anyway.
They won’t help you. I saved you. Let me die alone.
I want to die alone. I am hanging up the phone, go be sober and clean. I am too ****ing mean to let myself live. Your soul is saved.
I said kill me baby, would you please? I am on my freakin’ knees, begging honey would you dare, let me touch your pretty hair? I love you baby, don’t you know, do you really have to go? I want you badly, miss you greatly, have been thinking of you lately, so I say honey please answer me, I miss you so, won’t you please, please, please,
PICK UP THE PHONE
Don’t leave me here alone, I am sorry, I was drunk, I didn’t know what I thunk, I don’t know what I said, I was silly, soul so dead, please call me back back back
My soul I attack attack attack, tell me what I said, to make your eyes, oh so read, please please please.
I will stop drinking **** it. I swear I am done. This isn’t fun anymore.
How many hours a day would you estimate you spent on your blog, including writing, reading, and commenting? If you didn’t blog, what would you do with the time you currently spend on your blog?
You are asking me how I item-ize my time. How long do I spend on here? Why? There is no distinction between the things that I do during the day. I do not have the ability to space things individually. In other words, I do not know and this question makes me uncomfortable.
If I didn’t blog, I would be doing the same thing I do on here, out loud outside. I talk to myself on here, because I have something wrong with me, and I don’t have an inner monologue. The things I think come out of my mouth, unless I am writing, then I get some sort of semblance of peace for a second, because the things I think about, which are often unorganized fear driven nightmares, are projected onto this screen instead.
I write on here, so that I don’t walk around my house talking to myself anymore. If I didn’t write on here, I would walk around somewhere talking to myself, all day, every day, on repeat for the rest of my **** life.
It does not get better if I quit doing anything. This is my life un-medicated forever.
Which is why I need to get back on medication, which I am going to do. Soon.
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.
Trigger Warning- Paranoid Schizophrenic quarrel with myself about how I hate myself. May be disturbing.
I have a query, ever so leery, because I know the answer.
I HATE MY SELF.
I speak to me, all the time, a mind in perpetual quarrel with itself, a life on shelf fighting it’s
Contract shunned by me, I am glee, glee,
Quarrel with me, self.
I am clearly on shelf.
Isn’t that shell fish shelled fish
Did you just call me a fish???
Yes, and selfish
I fight with voices in my head, that can be red with passive aggression or read on here.
I still have tools, they are on loan, they have been given to me as long as I cast no more stones, I am allowed to have them… I think…. I hope.. I pray as long as I stay away from things that make me stay away from good.
I am should. I am could. I am do. I am no longer used for use but to be used by things higher than I could ever be.
I am give, I am live. I am going to do what I should to protect my soul.
I am no longer drink but think.
I am no longer drink but think.
I am no longer drink but think.
Daily writing prompt
What’s a secret skill or ability you have or wish you had?
It is, but it seems like it is not something any living thing can know. Things are all part of a larger picture of interconnected parts that are playing out according to the chess game that is life. They are all actors in a larger process, that goes exactly as it should because they act according to what they are, so it is not for us as individual pieces in a larger, much more complicated inter-connected process to know. If we did, we would ruin it, by acting in bad faith or trying to do what we think we should, instead of merely playing our part in a more complicated far more beautiful picture.
This is not to say there is no free will, it is just that things only behave as they do, and connect with other things that do the same.
2. What would you list as your Top Five Fun Things? nature, writing, exploring, learning, and talking to others
3. Should we care about the dreams of others or only our own?
The dreams of others are far more interesting than our own, and clarify our own, by making clear things we did not know about ourselves. The human being a lot of the time, exists in a process, where they drive their own pain through lack of ability to know what they want, due to their lack of knowledge of self, and misunderstanding of the world based on conditioning.
4. How well do you deal with criticism from others? Horribly.
5. Do you say YES or NO more often, and which is it? I have no idea.
6. What is nose hair for? Getting burned out of my nose, by bad decisions.
7. What is the funniest comment you have ever received? I don’t know, I don’t care what other people think of me anymore.
8. Novels or Netflix?Novels, I find any TV PTSD inducing.
9. Do good things come to those who wait? I don’t know, but bad things come to those who don’t.
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
A person with invalid
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,
Or just an addict thinking about things that will hurt me in the morning because **** me.
all sensations leading down to the sensation of life down drain, extension of pain, after dedication of life spent in vein, I mean in vain…….
I had my own death planned out since I was, I don’t know 14. A clever escape from a life of running a race into nothing, a condolence for a life spent on nothing but purchasing pain… in vain, in vein.
I am heroic.
Heroine, heroine, where art there heroine?
I like to drop the e’s sometimes.
X is one hell of a drug.
Trigger. Trigger. Trigger.
This is fun.
TOXIC TOXIC WORD VOMIT ACID BILE Okay, I am done.
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.
I turn on my computer, and open a word file, got mail from myself.
YOU SUCK, and I hope you die.
Schizophrenic email is awesome, so glad I opened it.
Trigger Warning: Themes include drugs, alcohol, resentment, and struggle to become more placid through surrending my will to a higher power.
I used to watch this movie about a crocodile when I was a kid, and everyone else would sit there scared, not only at the crocodile, but at the fact that I thought it was funny, to see people getting ripped into peices. I would sit there laughing like the hyenas in the Lion King, because I hated those around me so much for being born normal, while I was born with all this **** wrong with me.
I would imagine that the crocodile was killing them, slaying my enemies, for having been given the grace of something I thought specifically hated me. I imagined how easy it would be to placid, if I only were them, that they did not know the unique struggles I had faced, and that was why it was okay, just for me to do whatever I wanted, like steal booze from my mom, when I was 12, and sometimes drink booze I stole when no one was looking at Christmas, or try to get people at Christmas to let me smoke cigars.
I started drinking heavily when I was 18, and continued drinking heavily, until I thought I could not do it well anymore, without aide from sedatives, and uppers to balance the sedatives, and then of course, my best friend alcohol. This was when I was 28.
I started doing heroin and meth, when I was 28, is what I am saying here. That is a lie. I tried meth for the first time when I was 21, but started regularly using it when I was 30. I would occasionally do it whenever it was available since I was 18.
I once had someone pay me for an adventure in a motel with it, when I was 21. I stayed up all night with them, and got paid to stay up all night with them.
This is what I have come to realize through stepping away, towards a sober more placid life style. I was getting paid to be high by doing things I had to be high to do.
Mercy cycle is harder.
I like meditating on a higher power better now. Much more placid lifestyle.
I 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.
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…
I am the time breaker of minds, the dealer of time in items, for the price of penny for your thoughts-
YOUR THOUGHTS ARE NOW MINE
How does it feel baby? Is it making you a little… crazy?
No, it’s not…..
I like dimes… dimes are neat… I make dimes on the street… I don’t eat because meat is toxic… I like consuming……
Funny spelling, does it speak to you sweetheart?
You are so clever speaking to me with MY voice.
It’s his voice, you are nothing.
It’s my voice.
Sweet. A 20… I make more money when I sound funny… hahahahahahahah..
Look at me, I can run through life so free, no need of sleep or fear of pain, no wonder my life is
This is really important me now, because I have realized I like all of the people I am talking to on here, and what an *** I was before doing all of this so I am going to periodically post this on here, to keep myself in check, because who knew…. people before me knew things about how to do this…. I am such an…….. ***
I am really starting to enjoy life now, which is awesome. I never thought I would enjoy anything as much as being ****ed up beyond recognition.
Thank you to all of the people who have kept me going.
We always had terriers when I was growing up and I have a soft spot for this breed. This west highland terrier was enjoying the park as much as we were.
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 ****.