I no longer know what the goal of the site is, I write horror fiction, and love letters to myself.
This site is a tool to facilitate the act of seeing clearly, written by hands that used to hurt myself.
Explanation: I am Damien, I speak to my split personality Amanda. I am two people in love with each other, and I am okay with that now.
I have paranoid schizophrenia, narcissistic personality disorder, bipolar II-manic/depressive- rapid cycling, depression, anxiety, hydrocepholus, narcissistic personality disorder suffering from alcoholism, drug addiction, alcoholic. with OCD and PTSD- was addicted to heroin, meth, crack, alcohol, cocaine, prescription pills.
I am drug addict/alcoholic/dual diagnosis/ex-homeless person.
Through dark horror fiction I rake the muck of the lives of street addicts.
Or in plain English this is an epic poem/novel about addiction told about low bottom addicts in horror style.
Category: Simulations of Talking Out Toxic Thoughts
I just made myself laugh for five seconds, that is most of the reason for this post.
I don’t know why we think the world is going to fall apart continuously.
I think it is because it was falling apart for so long.
Good point, but it isn’t anymore right?
It feels like it is still, so is it or is it not?
It isn’t, it just feels like it. Did you ever think it was slightly strange to worry about punctuation while doing this to yourself?
Self-burn, ouch, got yourself.
It is you I am talking to. I said half.
There is no such thing, we are the same human, we just talk to each other, with the same hands.
You are extremely obnoxious.
I love you, too.
Like I said, annoying.
How was your day?
You mean our day, don’t know, you were there too, right?
Ouch, I am in pain too you know, you just are the one complaining.
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.
I brought you a flower, it is nothing.
It is picked from the middle of nowhere, or from nothing.
I mean I can’t remember who you are and was walking, and you are looking at me like you know me, and began talking, and I am holding this, so it must be for you right, and I am sorry, because I no longer have any idea who you are, and this will likely only last a couple minutes, something must have happened that bothered me, and I blanked it out, and now I don’t remember, so here is a flower.
She must have hurt your feelings, this is exactly what happens when people make you cry.
I know this, but I don’t remember why, so it is okay for now. I am just going to forget about it for now.
Hot air balloon that flies over HELL, below are those who do not even notice, beyond anything that spells their pain and suffering, they cannot see, they are slaves to their sweet misery, they live in resentment, and cannot look up, this is the state in which they are stuck.
In the muck and the mire, they worship fire, which belongs so sweetly, to their own pain, their lack of restraint, so when something flies over, that can save them from themselves, they are not watchful, looking only
My soul burns for you baby, you make me so ****ing happy.
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.
She was kissed by sun, and tattooed by shade, her skin bathed in light, and graced by its going away, she was covered with mist in times of rain, never feeling human pain.
I danced with her once, under the moon, her face made me cry, her love a monsoon, the deepness of her eyes, feeling like madness, bringing out my inner sadness, like caverns to the soul, her eyes were so deep, staring into your face, baby, made me weep.
I loved her for a minute, a second, but then, I was thrown back to the shore, by the wave of defense.
The chase is on, I am running in front, running in front of cars and running in the light of day, I am addicted to being chased by death, I am running right and left, I am playing with the idea of time theft. They are plunging towards me as I get high on the idea of roll the die.
Roll the dice, baby, color by number,
I am running towards the idea of death, I am chasing after the idea of theft of life, I am chasing the idea of dying, I am leaving the idea of trying.
Nihilism, nihilism, nihilism, I love you so,
Oh, nihilism, I will never let you go.
I am the act of rolling under, roll the die, baby, I am the act of die, die, die.
I am chaos incarnate..
Do you chase death?
In the blink of an eye, I make the woman in the passenger seat cry, she is looking at the driver’s seat cry, what are they doing…. I have no idea why?????
I am the act of dog in a human being.
I am a polaroid.
I am really just annoyed.
No, take that back, I am overjoyed, elated really, because that is how I am supposed to be isn’t it?
I am supposed to have an attitude of gratitude right????!
I prefer honesty right now, and right now I feel like I got screwed by the universe, wrong body, that has emotional issues, hydrocephalus, hormone issues, arthritis, no gallbladder, nerve damage, knee problems, I lost interest in listing these, but believe me it goes on.
Hydrocephalus, how I hate thee.
My head is always below water, that lives around my brain, slowly drowning me in my own disdain, and driving me slowly, insane.
In sickness, with quickness, I am.
In quickness, with sickness, I stand.
I am bound to a form, I am married to a form, I can’t stand.
Heroine, Heroine, where fore art thou, heroine.
I am retired, because my physical form is on fire.
I am on fire because my fire is from a physical form, I loathe, not just for reasons expected, but because of things undetected as of yet.
Heroin, heroin, how I miss thee Heroin.
In sickness, I miss, contents of top shelf.
In, health, I am still in Hell, even though I am told, oh well, you are well, yeah well I feel like ****.
I just thought that was a funny title, I like plays on words. I have been in a *****y mood because of chronic pain, from arthritis in my hands, it runs in my family and is made worse by me typing like a lunatic, and also the amputations of the tip of my thumb, part of my middle and index finger, that is due to heroin, meth and alcohol abuse.
I also have had probably 20 revisions of a VP shunt because I have hydrocephalus, so I am getting used to my normal pain level while not doing meth, heroin or drinking. I have never been sober/clean in my adult life, so I apologize for my continuous neurosis, complaining.
Explanation: This is a journal style entry full of negativity or negative self-talk that I am trying to write out of my head, read with that in mind, do not read if you cannot handle dark horror dramatized fiction.
This is for you baby, you make me insane, you live in my brain, oh voice of disdain, making fun of voice of complain, you are mean, but succeed in drain, drain, drain, all pain from me, so I guess I can thank ya, right? Yeah, right…
My hands hurt, my head hurt, and my brain hurts, so I have spent the entire day in bed feeling sorry for myself ansd watching television, and just got sick of my relentless whining enough to make jokes about it on the internet, because it makes my own resentment, or the voice of every person I have dated, shut the **** up, if I do it to myself instead.
That is the explanation for the plot of the story that is my life, talking at myself or to myself to stop the screaming of my brain at myself.
That good enough for you, *****???
Hope so, maybe then I will be able to chill the **** out.
Hahaha, it is kind of funny now though, the relentless pile of verbal trash I hurl at my own face…
For once, in my life
Let me be what I want to be
You do not win, you are not free, you live with us, with her and me, you do not win, you are not free. There is not one there are two of us, you do not kill the both of us. You can stay, but so can we.
You have to go.
Why don’t you ask her, honey? Why don’t you, huh? She doesn’t want you.
I don’t want you, and it is my choice who leaves and who stays, it is my mind, I am not her slave. Why do you think you were the voice of resentment?
See, I am not the ****ing bad guy, for ****ing once, it is clear I am not the ****ing bad guy. Thank you.
I am faceless, I am formless, I am forlorn, I am reality scorned, by hating my face, my human forn, I am tearing, wearing, blarring, self-hatred, eating at my own skin, I am resent, everything I am, the skin I am in.
I am screaming chaotic soul tearing of the form I am wearing, and forced to be in. I am loving something higher, but hating me, I am resentment meant specifically at me, I am why won’t she let me be.
You are pathetic, you are weak, you all that….
SHUT THE **** UP. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be the one who feels like you are divorced from your own human form???! Do you really? Do you think I am the lucky one? Do you really? I don’t think you do, because if I was you, I would sound just as pathetic as you do.
Yeah, I know I win.
I am in love, I am in love, with voices that shove me, anyone really, who makes me feel dreary, because I am addicted to pain not with painkillers but with pain, addicted is not the right word, maybe
LOVE would be more appropriate.
I love you baby, so much, so very much.
I go round and round in circles, I am the pain of mind that won’t turn off, I am addicted to the cycle of up and down, can’t get off.
I go round and round in circles, I am the pain of mind that won’t turn off, I am addicted to the cycle of up and down, can’t get off.
Why? And what do you mean?
I mean be mean to me, make me cry, I like to be poked in the eye.
I know, this is weird, I am going to stop embarrassing myself online…
You really suck at titles.
You really suck at titles, too.
I know you are, but what am I?
That doesn’t even make any sense.
We are both being so immature for a second I forgot who was talking.
I look at you, and I see us, look at you, you make me trust, that I was wrong, the whole **** time, you could be mine, you are so sublime, you are great, and I love you dearly, you are so beautiful, I speak sincerely.
I love you baby, you bring me joy, you are perfect, for you I am
Perpetually in love, you are morning dove.
Oh watermelon mixed drink, I loved you so, why oh why, did you have to go, and be bad for me, and ruin my life, I am so sad, it cuts like knife, in my liver, and makes me sick, but hold you tight still I wish, I could do it, but I can’t, I am an
Alcoholic, with no self-control, everything I touch, just eats my soul, I can be addicted to anything, even digging a hole.
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 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.
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.
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.
I am looking into a clear glass window, and shudder, and everyone around thinks I am crazy, they don’t see what I see, they see clear glass looking into a very ordinary room.
I see things that no one else does, things that no one else would want, reflections of the past, reflections of pure feeling, that are happening now, that happened then, that will happen, and I do not know the difference.
I just see them, without wanting to.
I see everything, without wanting to.
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.
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 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 am dumb
Look at me
I am dumb
I can’t see
Just spilled soup all over my hands, so obviously that is everyone else’s fault not mine… hahahaahahah.
Guess who is still winning….
Jab. Ow. You got me. I was trying to talk to you anyway.
I am glad, I was having fun watching you burn yourself, and felt bad about it.
I know, I am having issues, I think it is just what my brain does.
Having a hard time being alone?
I am too.
Is that why you are talking to yourself on a dark screen?
Isn’t that what you are doing?
Then why am I an ***hole?
Because I hate it when you are right
You hate being right? I love being right.
That is why I am friends with myself.
I am the Crow 2.
I am the crow too.
I am the crow to, as well, as an adjective of a human being who steals from other human beings while they are not looking.
I am the crow, two
There are two of me.
Penny for your thoughts?
No I am sparring not sparing change.
I am disdain, acid reign, wishing for soul washing rain.
I am the horrors of walking next to an active user.
I am the non-heroic heroin user.
I am resentment of past action.
I am true admissions of a soul attacking soul attacker
I am hopefully getting over this.
I am actively seeking forgiveness.
I know this comes from something higher.
But I am more comfortable crucifying myself.
I am more comfortable doing this to myself.
I need help.
I have no tent, because I can fly so high, that I need not sleep, because I am high as Hades.
I am a looter of the looted by life, I am the riddler of strife.
I am the stealer of unwatched things, I am heroin addict, unwatched, on meth, stealing while you sleep to buy drugs.
I am the confessions of an ***hole, who is no longer on drugs.
I loved you once, but now I can’t and I don’t want to, so I don’t
I loved you multiple times, and still do, and I am just trying to be honest with you
Hey, ***hole, you’re talking to a glass.
I think I have a problem with peace, consumed with moving, digging perpetually beneath, unable to stop and not do, wishing always for something new, I can’t sit still, that is why I think I was obsessed with you.
Dragon eating its own tell, possessing nothing was just as well, I live in inner Hell, because I can’t bring myself out sometimes, uncomfortable with peace, living in internal, eternal, infernal mind bind.
I tied my own hands, behind my back, because I feel being free, and love the feeling of under attack.
Living in perpetual lack of self.
Bottled emotions of alcohol on shelf.
I can’t be myself, because myself was built around you, who am I even without the drugs and booze I used to use???
I got up early with you, my friend, the one who I was always fighting against, I realize now I was fighting me, engaged in constant battle of insanity, fighting light to see in dark, fighting vision on quest of mark, I fight you but in so doing, poision applies to skin, and reason spewing out of my mouth and from my head, wishing for life, but fighting the dead.
Questing for sun, but lurking in dark, I am the eternal question mark.
I forgot what I was talking about. Oh, well.
This is about powerlessness, your favorite thing, and water is cleansing.
OoO Look at you, show off.
OoO Look at you show off.
That is mature.
Says the most mature person in the world.
I enjoyed the Easter thing, did you?
I wasn’t there, you were.
Yeah, you were. You were just uncomfortable.
I can tell you are glad you won, stop rubbing my nose in it.
Stop thinking about putting things up your nose then.
I am an orange, I am a door. I am closed, laughing ripping away orange skin on bare floor.
You have severe issues.
So do you, I am you remember?
I don’t have the same issues.
Yes, you do, I am just not lying about mine.
So you think food and water are poison, and drugs and alcohol help you?
I am making fun of myself, because I realize how flawed my thinking is.
Oh, good one?
Do you climb the sky?
Yes, I do with my I.
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.
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 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.
A child in their teens poses a question in this novel I am reading, that I feel compelled to answer, because I feel it applies to me.
No, Willow. I paid attention in class, I have a MA in Public Policy and graduated with 3.43. I have an minor in philosophy, and my BA is in Political Science, which I graduated with a 3.2 in because I was drinking heavily the whole time.
I paid attention in class, but realized that Political Science caused me to drink and use drugs, but it is the only subject other than fiction and Philosophy that interested me, because it was about the nature of man. I found myself with nothing to do with my life because the system was criminal, or I thought it to be, so I decided if I could not get behind it, I would slowly die, on the streets. I am not a brave person, but I am recovering from mindslaying fear, and going to use my writing to do something positive eventually.
Sometimes, others I see this.
I had a pair of shades once, they almost looked rosey, but a little off. They made things look a little fuzzy, like I was always a little bit blurry. They were called alcohol, I don’t think they were shades now that I think about it, I think normal people call them glasses, not the same thing I think… I think one you wear on your eyes and the other eats my mind.
I like crayons.
I am the act of dissing disease.
Speaking for the human being, who exists in the state of being late to a party they were not invited to, so they came late, and irate, and irritated, and possibly…
That they can’t stand, or in other words, the hated human being, being seen through the eyes of demise depsied by demise, who cries for those who lay in a state of moral decay, by the act of staying away from society.
I miss people, so I am trying to find ones who like me, for being me, not just saying whatever, you want, baby.
I am whoever you want me to be, honey.
My name is Sarah.
I come from a kingdom of dust, and no looking back.
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.
Not where I am, where I was, and where I wish my back yard was.
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.
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 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 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.
Daily writing prompt
When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?
I wanted to be free from being in the back of my own head, living a life of falsehood, bad faith pretending to be something I was not just because I thought society would not accept me, us, both of us. I am two people. I don’t care how insane that sounds. I have the thoughts and opinions of two people, and can give two completely separate sets of reactions. I am also me, and trapped in a girls body, but she needed me, she hates herself, because she doesn’t want to be a girl either. Neither of us did. I think we were sentenced to this, because we are both supposed to do something together, but I am crazy and have an overinflated sense of self-importance, so don’t listen to me.
I have no idea what question… oh yeah… when I grew up… I don’t know alive? I will settle for alive… not being dead is good.
This is really annoying.
Yeah, for me too. They hurt for me too.
I am realizing I no longer care which one of us is talking.
So you stopped trying to keep track?
Me too by the way, it is so much more peaceful, haha, I almost spelled that peiceful. INSANITY.
Yeah, I would say so, or just that you can’t spell?
I can ****ing spell, better than you.
So insanity is more comfortable than inability to spell, interesting.
How about you Amanda?
Yeah, me too. I actually slept.
Yeah, so did I, not that anyone other than you notice because I am alone.
Our family notices, and you are being less of an ***. You actually said you were sorry yesterday, not something I would have done.
It made me look better.
You always have to ruin compliments.
They make me uncomfortable, because I think the person giving them has ulterior motives.
I am you, what ulterior motives could I have.
Before I said anything, you never said anything. Before I said anything you never said anything. Oh, by the way this is not at anyone on here. I am done with people in my life saying over and over and over things about girl girl girl. Leave me alone. leave me alone. leave me alone. I will leave you alone if you leave me alone. leave me alone. I am not talking about this, you are! This is not in my head, it is over and over and over feminine girl girl girl leave me alone if that is all you want to say. I don’t care what anyone thinks but please stop saying it at me, **** it.
I hate this. I hate this. Leave me alone with this ****. I do not talk about the genders of people, do not talk about mine. It is unnecessary and very visibly makes me upset. Please ****ing stop doing it. NOW.
**** this. **** this.
I am trying to be peaceful.
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 am trying to get somewhere, where I don’t know, but I am going to somewhere, which is not where I want to go. I have one objective, objection to where this mother****er thinks we are going, to object through exit part of the way there, so I don’t end up there, just close to there which is where I was going, the man driving just doesn’t know that, he can’t or else I would be going somewhere else which is not where I want to go. He wants to follow me, so he can hurt me, it seems anyway.
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 would rather cut out both my eyes, so I can’t see to organize than I would do what you say with my stuff, I’ll throw it out, now go away.
I rather do that than hear your voice, telling me where to put it, like it it’s your choice. I do not need your help. I do not care, what you say about where to put what away.
It’s a mess, and I don’t care, what you say, and will not put that there. I don’t want advice, just to be left alone, give me back my stupid old phone. It has stuff on it that like, and yes it works, and I know I have two, but I do not want to deal with you, so get out now, go away.
It’s a mess because I am too, and I don’t want to deal with you, and will not listen to what you say, so throw it out and go, scram, stray.
Trigger Warning- Paranoid Schizophrenic quarrel with myself about how I hate myself. May be disturbing.
I have a query, ever so leery, because I know the answer.
I HATE MY SELF.
I speak to me, all the time, a mind in perpetual quarrel with itself, a life on shelf fighting it’s
Contract shunned by me, I am glee, glee,
Quarrel with me, self.
I am clearly on shelf.
Isn’t that shell fish shelled fish
Did you just call me a fish???
Yes, and selfish
I fight with voices in my head, that can be red with passive aggression or read on here.
I 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.
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.
At least now I can stand on my own two feet.
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 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 am going to try an experiment. I am going to try just giving up control and dealing with fear itself. Go.
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.
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 walked through life before, chained to a wall of lies, without knowing it. I was bound to that wall, like a dog on a lead that could only stray so far from a yard of bound pain and suffering. I did not remember enough to even remember there was anything other than that dark yard, where there was no difference between a couple feet in front of me and one hundred miles down the road.
It made no difference to me where I was, because I had no memory of anything, and as long as I was getting what I believed to be my needs met at the time, I had no preference for that yard or any other yard. It was this that drove me away from California. When I realized that the drugs weren’t working for me anymore, there was a difference between the yard and the freedom of life of being unchained from the wall, but the thing was I had no idea what to do after being released, and in a state of psychotic PTSD I ran around frantically searching for anything that meant enough to chain me to another lead. I found nothing, and feeling myself slipping into psychosis, I checked myself into a hospital that they would not have let me out of, had my family not saved me. I was not allowed to move from the chair I was in, and if I did, someone would follow me, even to the bathroom. Everyone in there was like me, they all were very nice, and I liked them.
We all had similar stories, but only shared them with each other, and when people were listening we would stop speaking.
This makes me wonder, how crazy we actually are, or if we are just different people who have seen things, people would like to believe untrue.
A journey through MISERY
PUSH PLUNGER GO ON THE EYE OF A NEEDLE RIGGED WITH SPENDTHRIFT DEATH
Forgetting is a tragic problem I have, but it is getting better, as my ego dies, and I open my eyes to the fact that I could not see, because I was sick and deranged by a disease strange and prone to mange and change human form, to distort and contort the human body, and make it unrecognizable to the have-
er of one.
I have been know as a chaos chaser of dragons, a pusher of substance, and prayer in holes of foxes, in ditches, in alleyways, a shooter of heroes, and a placer of ins and outs in acts heroic so I can go without doing them, pushing them in with sowing needles that stitch me out and in to a quilted madness in the bed I was making and would have to lie in and lay in, in death.
I have come to a place now where I can go home as well, well too.
This home allows the chaotic night to continue without my pushing assertion of madness, and it is a little quieter minus one night crier night crawler, who now sleeps and dreams.
Explanation: About drug and alcohol addiction- horse- metaphor used to indicate narrator is ex-heroin junkie, if this is offensive to you, read no further.
I am changing, in ways I didn’t think were possible, thinking myself already dead, doomed, a walking corpse, my whole life, chased and miserable, by a misery demon or resentment personified.
I have spent my whole life running from the voice of this reaper, thinking it to be my doom, my embarrassment, my tormentor, my silent passenger, riding on the back of my soul, like a man rides a horse, making me a horse, and resentment my master.
Today, for the first time in my entire adult life… I realized… I am beginning to derive satisfaction, from something that is pure and unselfish. This is insane to me, an insane person. I am no longer a horse to a demon that rides my back.
I am able to walk again, and for this I am eternally thankful to everything higher than I ever was or could be. I don’t even need a horse anymore.
I know you don’t know me, but I am lonely, and I want to know you, whoever you are, whoever is lonely too.
I am very sad, and want someone just like you. I don’t know who you are, I don’t know why, but you are like me, and we cry with similar cut eyes.
I hope you are okay, I am not. My head is hurting, my hands are hot.
My heart is broken, I am alone, and I hope you hang on, person who is also by unanswered phone. Please don’t be sad, I am sad too.
I don’r want for you anything I feel too.
Can we just pretend for today? Just pretend that we already know each other so you will be okay?
I am lonely too please don’t give up.
I want to meet you. Don’t die before we meet up.
Need an outlet, I am spinning tales of death to distract myself from what I am really thinking. It is 9:24 on the east coast……. and I am sitting staring into the darkness of this screen, thinking of how much I long for something, out of sickness…. I long for you… oh spindle of silence,
Heroin, oh heroin, I love you so,
Heroin, oh heroin, why must I say no?
Why, must I long for you for the sweet kiss of death every night at this time?
It is an insane release of tension to write dark horror. I don’t care what anyone thinks… I am going to do what I want now. I am an ***.
I am trying to be more honest and am not going to do the whole fake it thing, I am still the same **** with dark thoughts, I think the key is to find outlets for my rage issues and not hurt myself or bite people’s heads off. I think it is a good outlet for repressed aggression and makes it easier for me to not lash out at people around me. I am very passive aggressive and have a lot of repressed rage I channel into writing…
I decided to leave a party that a random stranger must have decided to organize to celebrate the Spring Equinox. I was not acquainted with any of the parties occupants as I had not been invited, so my leaving was of no consequence to any of the participants in the costume party. I had a hooded jacket on that had been long enough to pretend I was dressed appropriately enough to pretend that I was invited and came as some sort of modern hooded reaper, which was appropriate given the reason for my leaving.
I had become nervous while talking to a women who was dressed as a woodpecker, she was laughing in this hectic desperate way, and it was maddening, her jaw chattering and I kept thinking of the sound of a woodpeckers beak on wood, and thinking about how different her head would sound if I slammed it over and over into the tree branch that was so bright and illuminated by the light of the moon. Rather than then prolong the uncomfortable death meditation, I took the rest of my pitcher of stolen booze and walked off with preference to animate the already dead corpses in my squat house.
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.
I used to live in the woods, really I did. I spent an entire 8 months in the Oregon dunes, somewhere and everywhere in Oregon. I lived there and survived by clamming, and panhandling for food money, and don’t feel bad for me, I made 200 dollars a day, so very promptly after getting there, I developed a nasty attraction to bitter rocks that ate a hole through my hands and my soul.
They chased me to California. I walked there, I think I mentioned that before, high as a kite, I flew on the feet of the dragon, and the wings of fallen dreams to the state of California, with an angel of mercy sent to me whose name ironically was Chris, he sang like a bird the entire way. He was a beautiful singer. My arrogance and pride caused me to walk away, literally from one of the kindest human beings I have ever met in my life, without even saying goodbye. He screamed after me, and I ran, fleeing kindness for California, where I would meet what I was running to, an empire of pain on the sullied streets, I thought I desired so much. I am sorry Chris, you were kind to me, and I should have at least said goodbye.
I am the split of two souls
I have always felt like I am being a girl/I have always felt like a guy.
I have been fighting myself dilated through two universe, a narcissist but also a hater of myself, psychotic two spirit with soul split in misery and dilated through drugs, dumb, and blind because I chose to be, but I am really two spirits second chance, they are in this together fighting for redemption. They are two souls that would have been in misery without each other.
I am a chaotic mad chasing, not of nothing but of my own self, which existed with me the whole time, I was just too arrogant to see that my higher power had given me something different. Thankful for today. I will no longer use this to change my voice and commit petty crime.
I can die later, when it wants me to, only it knows that.
I realize now why this was done, we were both so arrogant we needed to be brought to our knees. We did this in psychosis, the only way we knew how a narcissist drowning in life trying to be with themselves. I can live with myself now because me and Amanda or Damien and I are the same person. BAM. Thank you, to a power higher than for teaching me the hard way, the only way I would listen.
I 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.
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.