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.
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.
Characters thus far
Joy
Diane
Damien de Soto
Rei Clearly
POV EXPERIMENTAL ALLEGORICAL POETIC METAPHOR FICTION
First person
Blog post style
Dark horror fiction
Through dark horror fiction I rake the muck of the lives of street addicts.
Or in plain English this is an epic poem/novel about addiction told about low bottom addicts in horror style.
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?
No.
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.
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.
Who would you like to talk to soon?
My mother is the most supportive person in my life, she is the one of the ways I even figured out I was transgender to begin with, she knew before I did, and when I was very depressed after quitting drugs and alcohol, she talked to me about the whole thing and helped by listening to me talk about how I felt. She didn’t suggest anything, just listened, actively and asked me questions, and I figured out the reason I was drinking and using had a lot to do with trauma from having hydrocephalus and various traumatic things like my house burning down, etc. and the fact that I was not accepting who I was.
I literally said out loud to her,
how I am going to be with men if I can’t forget who I am, and pretend to be a girl?
She helped me realize that one of the reasons I used, one, not the only one, was that I was denying who I was.
The woman referred to in the archives of this site as Diane, is my mother, who is with her husband for the weekend at the ocean. She is my best friend, the only one who stuck with me through my insanity and drug and alcohol chaos. I hope to talk to her soon, because the morning is awkward without her. We usually hang out in the morning and make eachother laugh. I thought of a couple jokes that only she will get.
And now this.
I am a bird with a song, and I sing for you, I am up all day long, doing what birds do, I sing not for you, but for them, but it makes no difference, if you listen all day long, I sing with relentlessness.
I am a word used in a weird way.
I scream in color, I scream in death and decay, I scream in colors that paint you took me away. Where your house is, is where I used to live, where bricks are laid is where my branches were, where the bricks lay, is where I was ripped away.
My reality is broken, it cannot be given back, my branches scream with panic attack, I cry in the attack of taken away, my branches screech for me, I bellow for them too, I am dying and it is because of you.
In the night you came searching, you came with a knife, with your friends you came cutting, you came for my life.
You cut me from a bush, you cut me clear off, not my leaves are dying, soon they will fall off.
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.
You should find out why.
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
AHEAD AND
DOWN
DOWN
DOWN
My soul burns for you baby, you make me so ****ing happy.
You glow, sweetheart… so much brighter than the sun.
The sun is falling, and night will come, and in the encrouching darkness, we are left, in the theft of day, and light’s cleft, you sit on a tree, looking at me.
I am wondering what there is even left to see. I am the act of dying of the idea of bee, I am the seed of hating the idea of me.
I am not going to lie, being close to half a year not touching drugs or alcohol is amazing to me, and makes me feel like this.
Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who is big, and makes me small? I speak of course to alcohol, and drugs that make me think I am tall, while I am really not myself at all, just a small, shrinking liar, with a soul that is on fire.
One hundred eighty two days in half a year, so in a month in five days I have been clean and sober for half a year, and managed to switch to nicotine vaping, instead of smoking a pack and a half of cigarettes a day. I also no longer gamble or panhandle, and have been going to meetings, and have been helping my family instead of making them worry. This is the first year in my entire life, I have followed through on any new years resolution.
If nothing else today, mental high five for that one.
Damien & Amanda
There once was a girl, who loved beautiful flowers, she would stare at them for hours and hours, she would wish she could be like them, fragrant, and joyous, like her name suggested. She always felt that her name was a lie, sometimes so much that it made her very sad, or even cry. She wished to a rose, or a being with anything but toes, a sea lion, a fish, not her, so sad and craving anything, but this, she wished for the bliss of the sun, her life had never been very fun, but she felt obliged to stay, not to take away the happiness of those around her.
She prayed every day, for something to give her a little bit of contentment, or even content to her life, that felt so riddled with questions and with strife. One day a voice, way up high, almost seeming to come from the sky, directed her brown eyes, to the flowers she loved so much, and she decided to begin to alter them in photographs from other people, that inspired her so, she altered the flowers, putting more light in them, thinking herself a painter with the paint brush of the stars, she put the love of a higher power in the things that made her smile.
Add vice, advice, add vice, ad vice
I am the creation of vice, through not taking advice, but instead adding vice, resentment
Or reason meant for getting betterment
better meant, betterment, a seperation, the constant situation, of my brain, oil and vinegar, bitterness, seperated naturally, by a brain that is good at alone, but awful at being party to togetherness.
What’s the oldest things you’re wearing today?
My perception, my perception
It is the oldest I have, my clothing is new,
My life no longer sad.
I have been percieveing with these eyes for 36 years, they have seen many things, experience love, hate, and fear. They are learning to know peace and serenity, but are not there yet, not sure when, or if they will ever be,
But it is my quest, and I am quite glad, better this, I figure than remaining
INSANE
My clothes are new, so this post is silly, as I think my skin is 36, and my soul lays somewhere in this flesh container I occupy, and see through brown eyes into a world that is painted by my perception, painted the way I view it, used to be colored with rage and jealousy, but now beginning to change, and everything going from stained to changed.
I am learning to change my perception, and my clothes, unlike when I was one of the homeless folks and I lived in old clothes, donations that were never really mine, now my clothes, although they are bought not by me, are new, but my skin is still 36, and carries with it the knowledge of 36 years of not being new.
Alone, a loner, a long er, which is a long extension of time, spent in the ER, or Emergency Room.
I have been there a lot, and been alone a lot, because of exactly that, now mind you my alone time has not been mostly there… it has been, everywhere.
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.
I am
Look at me, look at me, exercizing self-control, silly addict able to keep myself from plunging into dark vacant hole. I have done pretty good at keeping things out of my mouth or my veins, but really done nothing, other than simply abstain, and really done nothing except sit in a chair, and listen to people who have been here and there.
It is getting easier, I really must tell you, I am learning to love
Everything else, so very much, that was obnoxious I hate everything I say, and wish I had someone else, so badly, but not, need to maintain distance, because love makes me rot, my brain, my brain, I am still insane, and so very vain, and obsessed with myself, I need to stop this, I am getting on my last
NERVE
NERVE
NERVE
Switch Off.
End Transmission.
My life is a mess,
I am now cleaning up.
My walls are wreck, I am scrubbing the walls, with the soap of recovery, maybe the stains will come off.
It will take awhile, but I trust it will work, with the power of realizing I have been such a jerk.
I trust something higher, than I could ever be, with that power I run forward, trusting it makes me free.
I see with blind eyes, I was a liar, I was a thief, I speak of madness, with eyes that were beseeched, consumed by addiction, plagued by lack, they saw nothing but soul under attack, they did nothing, but pace through blank space, slave to addiction, aiming to erase.
They were the eyes of a blind man, a person addicted, they saw nothing at all, they were plagued by a calling, and ever present, siren song.
I am ironic, my existence was pained, drawn to a calling to dive down the drain.
Now I am different, in way less pain, I am getting there by resolving the still present conflicts in my addict brain.
This is not a small improvement, I don’t do small improvements, I do procrastination for 20 years, and then large improvements. I spent all of my life devoted to hard drugs and alcohol, and now I am so done, and tired of stroking my own fractured ego. I need a freaking life. I don’t hate myself anymore, so I am trying to make whatever changes I need to, and making amends with my family. My mother is a really good person, and is helping me a lot. I wrote her as Diane, because I resented the idea of being helped at all, but I am seeing clearly now that she is trying to help me because she loves me. I know now that needing help, and accepting it is a strength not a weakness.
I think the small improvement I can make is try being less of an ***hole.
That sounds like a large improvement, I don’t know. Maybe one day I will get my **** together. I hope so, I am very ****ing lonely.
Yours,
See Clearly
I colored you like your two loves.
She was a monster, my sweet turtle dove, she was so crazy, and loved black and white, she was a monster, with him she did fight.
I live the still life, I lay around and do drugs all night.
Your boyfriend was so dull, though you were so great, he just layed around, you two couldn’t relate, I don’t know what you saw in him, that’s a lie yes I did, he was your dealer, and you two had a kid.
I wish I could have had you, and so did, so you say, but because you refused to leave him, I had to go away, now you remain in all likelihood, still doing the same thing, not getting out, but instead giving in.
The addicted live in misery, they live in pain, the lurk in the shadows, they stand in the rain, the litter the streets with garbage and pain, they scream in the night, their lives down the drain, they have no hope, they are told they should die, and looking back it just makes me cry.
I am a moron. I just ran around for a half hour, cursing because I couldn’t find a nicotine vape.
Nothing is about me, everything is about you, I love you so much, love everything you do, if I speak this way, with this kind of language, no one will see the truth of why I live in anguish.
Nothing is about me, everything is you, I love everything you do, would do anything for you, everything I do is great, sorry you cannot relate, I am over the moon, beaming with perfection.
I live beyond detection.
LIAR LIAR
Sole on fire, of my shoe, step on me, make me a prisoner, I do not desire to be free, I live beyond blame, beyond shame, life in vein.
Heroin, heroin, hear me talk, I am addiction, I love to stalk.
I have already done it, it is complete, I have already started, I am on running fete. Defeat is in sight, so is victory, I am on a daily quest, and always will be, I eat with a spoon, no longer shoot fire, I am on a quest, to evade drug empire.
I am seeking to be, so joyous and housed, so free from madness, no longer a louse.
I am made of stone, I drink fishes, I am made of stone, I blow kisses.
Nothing can touch me, not easy to break, I am a woman, I aim with grace.
Speak to me clearly, tell me a story, tell me of darkness, make it real gorey, tell of things that you have no seen, make it about darkness, make it a bad dream, make it fictitious, make it pure fiction, speak it clearly, with very clear diction.
Dance with me baby, you make me so crazy.
Does it speak to you, what does it say?
Does it speak truth or talk of going the wrong way?
Does it flow through you, or is it on top? Is it forcing your tempature to drop?
Is it cold and biting?
Is it warm and inviting?
Is it surging with force?
In the flow of the river, lays death….
Let me flow over, let me through, let me change your tempature, pour over all you do, let me be on you, give me your body, let me change your tempature, lend me your body.
I am inviting, I am over you.
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 have known you a thousand times, but noticed nothing, not a thing about you, because I worhipped something that stripped all the color from my world.
You, and all like you
I told her and all like her, to stay away, far away from me, desiring nothing, other than what fueled me…
Pushing everything and everyone away, far, far away, now I am left alone.
I knew this would happen, and did not care, addicted to the now
Now now now
More more more
I complain, but know I did this to me, I was so joy us and O so free.
I was addicted to
I am alone.
I am right along side of you.
To be or not to be?
Distended and extended
I am a time eater.
Left with nothing now, I look back, because I am stuck in the creation of forward.
You are not the creator of reality.
I know, but I am the shaper of my future, or one of them anyway.
I thought myself to be oh, so joyous and free
Joy us and free, us, meaning me and me
I and I
I I
I am a being with the power of two, I am two people doing as they do.
I am always one in chains.
Hey, not true anymore.
Is it not so?
It is not so.
Free dom
Dom, in Latin means master
Free of master, I am a master of disaster, an acid blaster, shooting acid into my own eye, to make myself, own self, I own myself, cry
Cry, baby, why oh why?
Why did I hurt myself so?
Because you are oh, so very bad at saying no.
What are you doing? You sound like a lunatic.
I, no?
You mean, ‘I know.’
No. I meant, you sound like a lunatic, because you are participating, and I always sound like one, and who cares anyway.
I have been forgetting to do this, but caught myself thinking about drugs a lot, so here. There are no meetings on Saturday near me, so I talk about drugs on the weekends.
I think it is cool if nothing else that I am almost at six months, well sort of….
Peace
So becoming, so become, in becoming, we come undone.
I am a wall, I am a cage, I am the idea of nothing new on each page, I am your case, I am your form, I am the idea of forlorn.
In the begining it was decided, that you are you, and you cannot deny it. You get what you get, you give it all away, you are locked in a cage forever to stay.
I survived a deadly fire, glowing eyes rage much higher than flames or smoke could ever reach, on wings I fly not to be beseeched by scalding hot embers that lay beneath, my wings serve me and I reach heights unknown to human being, and due to this my dear it seems, I remain so far away, from flames igniting on that tragic day, when all you loved was reduced to nothing, and in this setting and pain stuffing, burned all that you had within you.
Sear me seer, sear me deep
I am all that lives beneath
I am all you seek to hide
Everytime you ever cried
Sear me seer, sear me deep
I am all that lives beneath
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.
Food speaks to me, it tells me to eat it, it tells me I will like it so much better than I can even imagine. This is probably because I am
INSANE
I am probably insane… I am actually insane.
I know this, but I wonder sometimes, if there is something to this, something real, if I am hearing something real, that is real to a small segment of people, but experienced collectively, in that it is the same experience shared by a very small segment of the population, so would that not make it real?
But, backing away, I am caught looking back at you.
I am taken back and drop my things and instantly start to start re-gathering them, while falling apart.
I am fine, I tell you, but you know I am not, you stand looking at me, while my face turns red hot.
What is your problem?
I don’t really know, and if I did, I can’t let it show, that I know the answer because I don’t want to tell you.
I miss you, but I do not, I miss you, with heart in not. I am just living a lie, because I have forgotten what it was like to live with you back then, and as much as I say I am fine and completely okay…
You are lying.
I know.
I am never okay..
You are lying.
I know.
I am meditating on pain because I am addicted to misery.
I am meditating on pain, because I like to eat my own soul.
I am mad. I think there is something wrong with me.
I burned these flowers for you baby, in real life and on here, because
I am ****ing insane.
I am lack of clarity, brought about by insanity and vanity, I am enchanted by misery, brought to you by ms.re, she was the last one to chose to see my face that does not wish to be alone.
You are not that sad, stop pretending to be.
I am meditating on times when I was.
Why?
Misery loves company.
You are trying to keep resentment happy? That is pretty dark.
I love everything about you, baby, so glad, so elated to have met you face to face, you are a creature of grace.
I am nothing, I am magic, I am an eye. I am a liar, I am crafter, I am wordsmith, I am an enchanter, I am the act of lying down, I am taking nothing standing. I am the idea of withstanding.
You are really ****ing arrogant.
Really, I had no idea.
That was great.
So am I.
Obviously.
I know, right.
Not a question?
Clearly, can’t you see?
***hole.
She was my lover, she was my girl, she was my everything, spinning round and round, and turning upside down, down side up, upside side down, round and over, and upside all around.
You meant nothing, you meant nothing, you meant nothing, you are nothing to me, leave me alone, leave me alone.
I am happy now, this is all in the past.
Looking glass
Looking glass
Looking glass
Alcoholism encased
Addict in blank space
I loved her with everything I had. Baby, oh baby, why did you not give me anything, when I gave you
EVERYTHING I
had
You were big and I was small. you were big and I was small.
She loves me not she loves me not she loves me not she loves me not she loves me not she loves me not she loves me not
I am the lie I am the lie I am the lie I am the lie I the lie I am the Eye am I Eye am I I am I
She meant nothing to me, lie
She meant everything to me, and I meant heroin to her.
My head, my head, my head was entranced with ideas of being dead, with words that were once said, with notions that should have long ago been put to bed, with the idea of being dead, with tragic dances of being lead to places that would make me
GONE
I am addict brain, no longer in chains, no longer addicted to disdain, learning to refrain from living in pain, with focus on the idea of retrain.
I love you, baby
Do you really?
Yes, clearly, sweetie.
I meditate now
ON
DIFFERENT
THOUGHTS
Or different things, like the idea of wings, and things that have them.
Will of the phoenix, will of the gods, flying so brightly, fighting all odds, you smash into nothing, you fight cold hard truth, you smash into everything, you are my youth, you have no mercy, you were a toy, you were elation, mixed with bitter attempts at joy.
I am a ball of writing agony, I am forever sad to see you go, say it isn’t so, so sorry, oh so sorry, to have to say no.
I long for you badly, think of you in mourning, I wish I was back when I was thoroughly enjoying…
Anything but this, anything but this, please bring me, anything but the sensation of perpetual hit and miss, I am no longer anywhere, anywhere at all, distilled by lack, and oh, so self-involved, I meditate on something, that wasn’t even my past, on an image of success, when I am flea bitten with lack.
I speak to you private, I speak to you in confidence, I speak to you in honest response which is unnatural for me, and you respond so naturally, and I did not realize it then, but realize it now, and am possessed with desire to in water drown, at the time, this was not possible, baby, oh baby, being where I was, and ever so crazy. I loved you darling, don’t care what they say, I wanted nothing, but with you to forever stay, but I was stupid and drowning in devotion, so I devoted my time, to one who tried to take me
DOWN
DOWN
DOWN
I am now living under
GROUND
GROUND
Well in a basement, really, or a bedroom, but I spend a lot of time, here, thinking of you, and wish I was with you drinking a beer.
So, I think I remembered why I hate myself.
Oh, did you really? Do you see it clearly now??? Oh, master of the art of never coming down, off the pedestal you placed yourself on????
You realize you live in her soul too, how does that reflect on you, voice that shouts about everything I do, you are part of them too yes, but why do you act like an infestation, a manifestation of everything they are not.
I don’t know maybe it is because I have been shoved and pushed around, any time the two of you needed something so useful during the act of coming down.
Well, where were you after that, after your so selfish caring act? Where do you go when you aren’t being, like you describe, if your pain is not contrived, let me see through your eyes, which are theirs, not your’s, by the way, at least I borrow, not try to take away.
I never did that and you know it.
Yes, you did, you just don’t show it.
I made this for you.
You mean you made something for yourself.
I just needed to hear from you, I am not sure why.
It’s because you haven’t talked to me much today, because you were busy ego stroking.
I guess.. I think…
I don’t mind, I still like you.
Okay, just checking. I have a really bad headache.
I do too, because we are the same person.
I know this.
I just felt that needs to be said whenever you complain to me about things I am dealing with and not complaining about.
Hey, we are the same person.
Self-burn.
He was such a good boy, or so they thought, until they gave him the toy, not just any toy, but the best toy in the world, or what he thought was the best toy in the world.
Roy loved horses, of courses, of courses, anyone would love horses.
Ray loved to bite at its legs, so it had none, like most horses I know, say it ain’t so…. don’t you know? don’t you know? A horse with no legs is no good, so Roy simply thought, that he would bite them off, so he did without a thought, and off they came, and then the toy was lame, and Roy switched to a softer toy, shaped like a sandwich.
What does that even mean?
I liked how it sounded, rappers do it, why can’t it be done with horror, and actually all letters you write me are severe, because they are severly disturbing to average people.
That is actually very true.
I know that is why I thought of it.
Not everything you think is true.
Name one thing.
I am not a drug addict, I just like heroin and can do it responsibly this time, if I just don’t drink. This is actually something you were thinking today. How do I know, because I was thinking it to.
I am a box that never should have been opened.
I am trying it one time, and never again.
I will never do it two days in a row.
I can just drink one.
I can just have three.
I will start at five.
I will start at 12.
Severly, means harshly, and I think that a lot of us talking to each other, can be considered harsh, which is why I like you.
You like me because you have to, because I am you, or half you, and you are in love with your whole self which is half me.
Sick burn.
She tells me, she thinking this area, looks like drinking elephants, I wasn’t thinking about drinking at that moment, but instantly began thinking about drinking when she mentions the elephants, we both start laughing, we are sitting on the ledge, hanging upside down, and looking at this, hanging over the edge, my head hurts from blood rushing to it, my head hurts easier than most peoples.
I laugh and lean forward to kiss her, she pushes me, I am good at falling backwards, for about 30 minutes she thinks I am dead, and for about 30 minutes I am searching for people with booze or drugs under the bridge. She screams down for me, and I come back, some guy gave me something, and I make some stupid joke about drinking like the elephants.
She forgives me.
She looks really good in my shoes, she lost hers looking for me.
I am forever reminded of you Ruby, whenever I think about elephants, which is right now, and yesterday when I saw some earings that looked like the one you lost that day.
She tells me, she thinking this area, looks like drinking elephants, I wasn’t thinking about drinking at that moment, but instantly began thinking about drinking when she mentions the elephants, we both start laughing, we are sitting on the ledge, hanging upside down, and looking at this, hanging over the edge, my head hurts from blood rushing to it, my head hurts easier than most peoples.
I laugh and lean forward to kiss her, she pushes me, I am good at falling backwards, for about 30 minutes she thinks I am dead, and for about 30 minutes I am searching for people with booze or drugs under the bridge. She screams down for me, and I come back, some guy gave me something, and I make some stupid joke about drinking like the elephants.
She forgives me.
She looks really good in my shoes, she lost hers looking for me.
I am forever reminded of you Ruby, whenever I think about elephants, which is right now, and yesterday when I saw some earings that looked like the one you lost that day.
She stole your money, and I’ll give it back, little do you know, this is all an act. We tricked you, baby, but you don’t know. I wanted your attention and your friend did know. Now you are sitting thinking she left you here, she is buying something of which you won’t here. I covered for her, because without her, I would never have met you, and after today won’t see you again, and this I bet you, so right now, I will tell you anything you want to hear, and yes have anything you want, I have it here.
I don’t know when she will be back, she did not tell me, and yes she will be back of this I assure, I implore you please relax, your insanity and anxiety is such a tax, I love your voice honey, and love your face, I have something that I am sure will make your pain slow pace.
Okay, she is back no go away, and if you are ever in need you know where I stay.
I am watching you
And it makes me so very sad, to see you standing in a place so bad… painted as it is with death of day, a place I am sure from which you should stay far away, given such a pretty face, so tragic it would be for it to be stuck in this space, the place where we have come to haunt, to murmur curses and sadly taunt, the beings that come from above ground land, where I am sure your sweet form must be from and stand on the lands that are populated by better folk, not us my dear, who down here sulk.
There is still time, you can still turn around, you don’t have to be a lurker on this tragic ground, you need not listen to my partner’s voice, just run away, you have a choice.
She’s got cash, you fool, let’s help her out, she might help us, if we don’t make her go without, so shut your mouth, don’t make her run, come on, dumb ****, let’s have some fun.
Now I am sorry baby, but to get out of here, you are going to need a guide and she is right here, my friend, my friend, she is great, a true sweetheart, with such a pretty face, I’ll be right back, and you will laugh, she looks like me, she is my other half, she will make sure you will be fine and away you’ll go. I am someone you would rather not know, I am sure you will be just fine, look here don’t cry, sweet one, take a beer, go away, baby I am not good with your kind, I am resigned to live in life of decline, so no I don’t have what you thought you need………..
He told me something
Spoke so clearly, told me that he loved me dearly, he had such a beautiful voice, so I felt like I had no choice, but to make him
CRY CRY CRY
I love you sweetheart, hope you
DIE.
You are part of an empire of chaotic obsession with death that seeks the theft of youth by making them afraid of the idea of truth, so they stick themselves with
PINS AND NEEDLES
Sowing into themselves cushioning, that cuts out everything they are, everything they were before, making them sure of nothing other than that they need endless replenshiment of something that is not food, not water, not shelter, or warmth but
GIVE ME MORE LOVE
I am the act of shove, I am the act of push, I am take everything you have.
I am addiction, I am all consuming, I am ever entombing, I will eat your
SOLE
Of your shoe because your real soul belongs only to you, please
Remember that.
To See Clearly, In deed, I Cation by Ms. Re
I am a strange change in the wind, as you begin to realize everything you have ever realized is
ERROR
He tells me birds are not real
Error
He tells me that someone he knows has told him that they heard me say birds are not real.
Error
He tells a story about how my friend told him I said birds are not real after participating in a joking conversation about birds not being real, but instead robots in the sky. He thinks this is funny and laughs with me and my friend.
My friend thinks I am funny, she thinks my take on her hippy stoner questions are funny, she realizes I am trying to make her laugh.
Elizabeth thinks you are insane.
She does? I do not recall Elizabeth ever saying this, and if she did say this why didn’t she say this to me?
They call me spare change, I am the act of re-order everything you know.
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.
Pathetic
apathetic
energetic
Some other things with ****ing etic, I am bored with it now.
I rotate between thinking, always constantly about things that bring me great joy, because I am a pain worshipper, previous addict of things that made things so much……………..more toxic than they were without them… but for a secondn I….
I am a perpetual war story, of a lunatic who likes to meditate on ideas of DRUGS
That is very unhealthy.
It is your mind too, ***hole.
I am not responsible for anything you think.
You are responsible for what we think, and you are a participant in this conversation.
I am a path that focuses on doing something bad, that makes me oh so very sad, so sad that it is an excuse, please excuse while I do something awful in front of everyone who can see me slowly killing myself, but I am only doing it to me, so I am doing
NOTHING WRONG
Wow, that was harsh, hate yourself much?
That is the thing I hate most in the world.
We are not a thing.
Describe a random encounter with a stranger that stuck out positively to you.
I used to work at a sandwich shop, and this story is a story about two encounters that I had at this shop on the same night one positive, one negative, the positive was the last one, and it is the one that stuck out the most because it appeared to happen to negate the first one, almost as if it was because the universe knew the first one happened, which is what I think… because I believe that there was something higher than a human being protecting me from the first encounter.
I was the night clerk at a place that made sandwhiches, like I said in the paragraph prior to this, one I am restating this as a way to remember this…
I worked there from 2 in the afternoon until one in the morning most of the time, this day I was only scheduled to be there till ten, until a bunch of strange things all happened on the same day which all lead to the postive experience in the question.
1. We had a man run into the store who had been beaten up by some random guy in a truck that had been following him because the person in the truck hated gay people, the person knew me, knew my situation and knew that the place I worked would allow him to stay there until he could safely get a ride from his mother home, which we did, and he was able to safely get home. All proper procedures were followed and the man was able to be seen off by the authorities into the hands of his crying mother.
2. A man came into the store an hour before I was about to close, and demanded that we make 100 sandwiches, which we did, without asking if he had the money to pay for them, because he looked like he did… He was well dressed, and looked like he was not the kind off person who would do what he did…
He leaned over the counter, and looked me straight in the eye, and told me I was going to sell him all the sandwiches for a dollar. I said I could not do that, and looked to see if the gas station guy had left yet for the night, because the guy smelled like booze, which could have been reason enough to throw him out.
He then proceeded to ask me a very strange line of questions.
He demanded to know whether I believed in the Christian god, being very clear with me that it was the Christian god he spoke of.
I told him I am Catholic.
He asked me, what my god had done for me recently…
I shrugged, trying to get out of the conversation…
He then asked me if my god could replace the money missing if he took the sandwiches, I said I didn’t think so… He told me he thought it would be like Jesus and the fish thing.. I stopped speaking… at this point he tells me, he is of the belief that most people have chosen the wrong side, and that his god, the Christian devil is preferable.
I stop talking, thinking the man is probably intoxicated and in some kind of stupor.
He eventually leaves, and I close.
2. I get home and at this point am done with the whole thing, and am greeted by my ex, the one who I have not spoke about much on here, who tells me that I have a strange visitor.
A man hugs me, and tells me he saw the whole thing at my job, and that he applauds the way I handled it. He tells me that he knows I did the right thing and says he has seen the man reward people for breaking the rules of their establishments if they give him the items for one dollar.
He tells me that he followed me home to make sure I was alright, in his car which is nowhere to be seen. He laughs, says he is glad I am alright, gives me a hug and wishes me well, and I go upstairs, from my window I can see the man driving away, even though I could have sworn that there were no cars around.
I am sitting staring at the ground, in this memory with lack of sound, lack of presence of anyone around, simply staring down not up at the plain old ground. I am thinking about nothing, that is a lie, I am thinking about
Her, as I am usually thinking about her, but not the her that I usually am thinking about a different one….
I heard this voice…. a strange voice, long ago…. this is a memory… this whole thing… not just this part of it…
THE NARRATOR IS INSANE
You don’t even use my name now…. that’s kind of ****ed up
You have too many names to keep using one or the other.
I have two, and one of them is yours.
Point taken.
Are you going to finish your story?
No…… I think I will just leave it with this……..
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
of
Errrrrrrrrrrraaaaassssssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
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
Wanting this….
What is it you want
You want this?
Why?
She talks to me for an hour, and for an hour everything is alright, she has to leave in the morning promises to come back, promises she actually meant everything she said.. I know she is lying…… I am nothing but a night of adventure.. I am nothing but the desire to deny potential…
I am the glamorization of a life of loss..
I am the glamorization of the freedom that is the chains of addiction..
I never see her again because heroine’s do not save heroin addicts…
I have to save myself……
Maybe if I do… one day I will see someone like you again.
I am standing on the beach alone, or so I think… It is the middle of the day, but it is misty and the ocean gatherers have cleared about because it feels like it is about to rain, the mist is thick and penetrating, cold enough that I am beginning to be unable to feel my fingers. The water is warmer than the air, I wade into the water, and allow the water to warm my tingling skin, and strangely feel someone, somewhere looking at me, strange….
There is nothing to our actions, we exist as we always do, doing what we do because we do it
We look forward because we do
Do not make this about something larger, we are not what you lack
We stare forward into the distance
It is your own soul that you attack
I could have sworn there was no one there.. but I can feel it… a human being staring at me.. I look around and still can’t see anyone, but can feel the warm presence of someone there. It feels like I am being watched by someone, maybe from far away. I look around at the birds, and they are still, not moving, not making any sounds. They stand perfectly still, as if watching someone too….
I remain standing there for I don’t even know how long, and at this point, I am not sure how much time has passed by, but I feel like I can hear the birds thinking to me, they do not think like human beings do, they think in a sort of group think, collective conscious, letting me know that nothing abnormal is going on, at least not with them.
I distinctly feel someone behind me, and look around, I still see no one, but I swear I can feel someone watching me. At this point I am so unsure of the time, and so overtaken by this strange sense of urgency, I leave the beach and run up to the nearest sign of humanity, of any sign of life, I find a white fence, and thankfully for a second, while I stand choking on my own aloneness, my own discomfort, trying to get some sort of semblance of normal feeling, I again feel someone standing behind me.
She crouches down and looks deep into my eyes, her skin glowing with an unearthly angelicness…
You heard them to, she says to me, not with her mouth, she thinks it at me, she thinks it over and over frantically, with a desperateness that lets me know that at least for this one moment, there is some peace in my universe of aloneness, that for one moment, even if it is just that one moment, someone, even if they are kidding me, even if they are making fun of me, is existing alongside me in a hallucination…
She starts laughing……….
I start laughing…. and for one moment, one moment in my entire life, I know what it is like to have someone who understands me.
I drop my wallet, I drop my wallet and look down, and wouldn’t care… I wouldn’t care, except there is something in my wallet that I think I need so I grab it and it falls out… she looks down and walks away………
I ruin everything in my life.
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.
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.
″‘Precious, precious, precious!’ Gollum cried. ‘My Precious! O my Precious!’ And with that, even as his eyes were lifted up to gloat on his prize, he stepped too far, toppled, wavered for a moment on the brink, and then with a shriek he fell. Out of the depths came his last wail precious, and he was gone.”
J.R.R. Tolkein The Return of The King
J.R.R. Tolkein, The Two Towers
“Misery misery! Hobbits won’t kill us, nice hobbits.”
Do you see you?
Yes.
I see me too.
Put me in, try me on, I make everything easy.
I make life, black and white.
I make every fight yours.
Always and forever
You are the winner
Always and forever
And so we go, below….
I put things in that make my caring spread thing.
I put things in that make me want nothing else, except my own needs fulfilled to have my precious needs fullfilled.
I put on airs to make me not care when you touch me that way because it brings me closer to getting what I want, my precious…. my precious…..
I want you so my precious
Do you see me clearly now?
Do you see how
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSYYYYYYYYYYYY
It is…….to lose oneself…. in want…..
I did this weird meditation thing, so this reads like hypnotic thought:
This partially PTSD flashbacks that happened during a thunder storm.
I am here, but I am not, I am here, but I am caught, I hear you, but I don’t, I exist, but I won’t ever be quite as exactly here, as you, whatever I do, I am not exactly where you are. I exist very far, far away, and also always right next to whoever I am next to. I am next to you, but I am not, I exist, but I can’t exist the way you think I can, we are never exactly in the same place.
I am right where I am, sort of, kind of, but I also exist distantly extended throughout space, drifting faceless, over many different times, many different places, that I have been throughout time. I see them all simultaneously.
I am drifting, drifting, drifting.
I am over and over split between places, parts of me, everywhere I have ever been, spread thin, spread out, far from each other, peices lost throughout the universe.
After spending the night in jail for public disturbance charges, a man gives me a ride to Galveston Texas. I have no idea before getting there what the story is behind this town, only that I vaguely remember hearing a Glen Cambell song about it back when I was still riding around in the back of my mother’s mini van.
He asks me what I am doing in Houston on the way there. I tell him I am trying to get out of Houston, he laughs and says he understands why. I tell him he doesn’t know the half of it, and he laughs, saying he does too, and that he used to be a security gaurd somewhere around here. He asks me if I am carrying anything he needs to know about in the car. I don’t.
We drive and right now I don’t remember how long it took, because I probably passed out from exhaustion while this story was occuring.
The next thing I remember occurs months later, because I was not driving my body, Amanda was.
The person I am with at the time, whom I am no longer with…. and I are walking on the highway… she is screaming at me about something.. in this memory I am not sure what she is screaming about… I know now she is angry because I was extremely drunk and got arrested and she had to comen get me out of jail again.
We are walking to get out of Galveston, and to go somewhere called Crystal Beach, which sounds…. nice… for idiotic reasons.
Standing in front of the mirror, as a child, not right now, not here.
Well, obviously, you are not a child right now, right here.
Are you sure?
Yes, even though you act like one, you are not one.
Unfortunately, because I would be the funniest child ever.
That already happened, and we were pretty funny, if terrifying is funny.
I am the creature in the bushes.
I am my own nightmares.
I am denial of self.
I am life spent on shelf.
I am a child standing in front of a mirror, staring into space, or looking in a mirror, or staring into space.
I see my face now, not then but now.
I was afraid of this person that looked kind of like me, but older that I said had done things I would never do, because I was eight and doing heroin was bad.
I think now that I might have been able to see me now, but that is probably some delusion or something.
I used to hate you, standing over here, seeing you as potential cash.
I am the ever bounced check on my own soul.
No longer bouncing, just burned and tossed in the trash.
I am in debt to you, for having fed someone with hand-outs.
I look at you, and you seem so peaceful, glittering with love for one another, in a way I have never had love for anyone or anything.
Your laughs and voices telling stories of times shared, not taken.
Glances shared paint your lives with love and joy, which I don’t understand, not yet, being a glance stealer, not a glance giver.
I am not good at seeing anything, but at looking and casting doubt and disdain, and living in pain, an excuse for cowardly escape.
I am seeing you now, and realizing you always have been stronger than I ever was, because you need eachother, which means you can depend on eachother.
You look to eachother for strength instead of finding strength in sticks and stones.
I have chased myself around this house, all around, up and down
Up and down and
In and out
Of this house
With a doubt
In perpetual doubt.
I am vastly incompetant.
I am light
N-ing
I am not light but the perpetual ing
I not God.
I am not lightning
Not divine, just human being running all the time towards realization
I am not God, just sad human being, that had an addiction to power, and lived in chaos, finding peace in letting go of reigns and watching the rain with peace.
I am extremely happy that they are doing okay, which is partially because I have stopped being such an ***hole.
I hadn’t realized how much my ridiculous narcissistic behavior affected my family until recently, because I didn’t think of anyone, but myself. I am trying now to also think of them, because as much as I like to think I live in a vaccuum, people care about each other, and even though I used to not care about anyone, but me… it is only fair that I start to care about them, because they care about me.
My brother taught me this, kind of… some of it came from each of them. My mother, my father, and my brother. I have a sister as well, and have since being back in this house made peace with her, but she lives far away, so I have not seen her to make ammends with her.
I am not supposed to be doing any of this yet, but I am good at jumping off cliffs, so I feel like at least it should be for a good reason.
Damien
Are you claiming to be a god?
No, I am saying I was doing what the universe told me to.
I pushed a fox out of hole, and he died because I am selfish, or was anyway, I think someone ate him.
The streets of this country are riddled with screaming, every street corner, ever cover of darkness, is surrounded by the screaming criers of the night, who scream in languages only some can understand.
They talk to me, clearly, not her name, but meaning I understand them, and they speak to me in plain English, because that is the language of the country I am in, unofficially.
We talk of survival, not manipulation, but survival, of who is the best person to ask for money, who will likely hand over a dollar, I am good at this, good at awkward prolonged eye contact, I help them, my fellow nightcriers.
I miss them dearly, clearly, not her name, **** her name.
They are just like everyone else, except their lives have been riddled with danger, and because they are addicts they used or drank about it, and the judgement of others, bothers me endlessly.
I am 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
I used to have this hate for this one cat, that poops in the bedroom I sleep in, that is not mine, so I had no right to be mad at the cat, but I used to think he was doing it to me or at me, because I am ****ing insane and everything is at me or to me.
I now remember something hilarious.
I have vomitted in almost every state in the US, in front of people in broad day light, when I was homeless we used the whole world as our toilet because we did not have inside bathrooms.
I am literally this cat, and have metaphorically done what he is doing, I just have to clean it up because I am metaphorically cleaning up the bed I made.
Facts.
I am tragic recolor,
Color me, clearly.
With clarity.
No, with madness, or the use of your ex’s name in a backward will exertion about clarity.
So about insanity then.
Who are you fighting.
No one, just playing around.
That is all.
I am sticks and stones,
I break bones, but I am better at poking eyes of those who don’t know how to leave well enough
WELL ENOUGH
My cage is an internal cage, a cage of lost mind, of entwined, with the vines of furious design.
WELL ENOUGH
WELL ENOUGH
ENOUGH
WELL
Alone.
I am sorry, I am insane, I am in pain, I am acid rain, I am soul disdain of my own making and continuous breaking, taking liberties.
But the fool on the hill sees the sun going down
The Beatles, “The Fool on the Hill”
And the eyes in his head see the world spinning around
I once told someone something very strange. They were complaining to me about their ex ALL THE TIME…..
Hey ***hole…
Yeah, just realized that too..
I am sorry by the way, to anyone reading this, who still hasn’t decided to not read it, because you can, because I am annoying.
Why do they need your permission?
Noted.
This post is now about something else. Moving on.
Peace.
There is someone there, who has bad intentions, because they are simply there, and everyone has bad intentions.
There is someone there, and I don’t like them, because they have bad intentions, because everyone has bad intentions.
I am afraid of myself.
I am afraid of being back in padded rooms, which I have been in before.
I am afraid that whenever you help me, it is one step away from the constraints on my arms to help myself.
Control myself, accept the things I can’t change…
I ruined my own life, and I am trying to fix it, and people are trying to help me, stop ripping their heads off with words.
I think everyone is out to get me, because I am an idiot, or that is what it feels like sometimes… both of those things alternating not simultaneous, never simultaneous, unfortunately…. not yet at least. I can never remember when under insane delusion, that I am prone to insane delusions and that as much as it seems like people are out to get me…. just realized why my ex’s hated that wording… they are not out to get me..
That kind of sucks.. because now I have to admit I was ***hole fighting the universe my whole life. I did the right thing and apologized, and it was very humiliating.
Peace.
“Since we’re all going to die, it’s obvious that when and how don’t matter.”
― Albert Camus, The Stranger
A reply, that defies anything that I thought I would say,
It matters now to me, not to anyone else,
That is not true.
It matters to others too, because it would matter to them, if they did, and to the sky if they did, so it must matter if I did.
People notice things.
Animals notice things.
If God were dead, which I don’t believe he is, then we can be what we want, and I do not want death
No end, my friend, no end.
The rushing waters of a flowing river, flow not chaotically at times, at times they do, but at times they stop and reflect in technicolor, cast on, by the light of the sky, that can be peaceful or full of thunder or full of nothing.
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.
Ahahahahahhhahahahhahhhahahahhahahahhahhahahhahahhahhahhahahah
I am the horrors of walking next to an active user.
I am the non-heroic heroin user.
I am resentment of past action.
I am true admissions of a soul attacking soul attacker
I am hopefully getting over this.
I am actively seeking forgiveness.
I know this comes from something higher.
But I am more comfortable crucifying myself.
I am more comfortable doing this to myself.
I need help.
ahhhahahhahhahhahahhhahahhahhahahhahhahahhahha
I have no tent, because I can fly so high, that I need not sleep, because I am high as Hades.
I am a looter of the looted by life, I am the riddler of strife.
I am the stealer of unwatched things, I am heroin addict, unwatched, on meth, stealing while you sleep to buy drugs.
I am the confessions of an ***hole, who is no longer on drugs.
I 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 know…
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?
Yes, learning.
Thank you?
You’re welcome.
That is all.
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.
On a quest for fire, a bird bird undertook a dark journey, flying through chaos, it flew through woods, and met many things, including things that were of no good, and that a bird never should meet. It flew with those things, and at those things, and nested with those things, for decades. In swamps, in plastic bags, in garbage. It ate scraps, it flapped through oil, it cawed out to no one.
It flocked with everyone, it flocked with no one. It flew towards the sun, it cried. It cawed. It fell. It broke it’s wings.
But none of that matters, because it built a nest that someone found, and threw watching the silly bird…
Some had the idea to dip a bird nest in gold.
I just almost fell down the stairs, because I always do things twice, even if I don’t want to because I have OCD and one for me, one for you, but I think that is no longer necessary because I almost fell down the stairs because of it, addict.
I like to do something till just before the point where it hurts me, or the point where it hurts me and I know not to do it again, because then it will really hurt me.
I think I used the wrong word. I do things that hurt me, and I know they will, but I am an addict and I think this time they won’t and that maybe I will do something different and experience a different kind of nicotine sensation, or maybe like always, I will almost fall down the stairs, from vaping.
Alcoholism
A child in their teens poses a question in this novel I am reading, that I feel compelled to answer, because I feel it applies to me.
Had all those homeless people in the parks and subways of Manhattan, just not paid attention in class?
Lisa Unger, Darkness My Old Friend
No, Willow. I paid attention in class, I have a MA in Public Policy and graduated with 3.43. I have an minor in philosophy, and my BA is in Political Science, which I graduated with a 3.2 in because I was drinking heavily the whole time.
I paid attention in class, but realized that Political Science caused me to drink and use drugs, but it is the only subject other than fiction and Philosophy that interested me, because it was about the nature of man. I found myself with nothing to do with my life because the system was criminal, or I thought it to be, so I decided if I could not get behind it, I would slowly die, on the streets. I am not a brave person, but I am recovering from mindslaying fear, and going to use my writing to do something positive eventually.
This is who I fight, not Rei, this, strong trigger, this is raw, scary channeled nightmare.
I think of you every time I hear the peepers, not my you, the one I found on here that sounds like me, how I sounded when I talked to the burning rays of the sun, and thought I was talking to someone else, when I was really talking to resentmeant.
I married sin, it ate me from within.
I married hate, it made me quite irate.
I married wrath, it made me slay a calf.
I was really married to no one, we didn’t have the money, we spent it on heroin, if I had been married I would have been divorced 3 times.
3 strikes, I am out, of the game of slaying my exes with hexes online, because it is unkind and that puts my soul in a bind, with bought time, before I destroy me, and run on bloody knee into a train, this really happened, so insane, I think in addict brain that I am running from something, and I was, a pitbull, metaphoric because this one I can’t say online, don’t have permission to, he chased me till I ran away, afraid he would take me
OUT OUT OUT
Of the state of being able to say anything about anything ever again
Drive me INSANE
Permanently.
I am the psych patient being told, you can’t be allowed out, unless someone signs for you, and unfortunately you can’t remember your name or who to have sign for you.
****
Run.
I can’t. I am stuck in here. I am stuck sitting in a chair next to a man who doesn’t know his name either, he thinks his name is Sand.
He told me this, and I told him, I like grains.
He likes me now.
I am okay with it here, but I like the SUN.
I am so sorry to the most high, not her, not me, but the nature that rests above me, the moon, the stars, everything I do not own, that I made mine when I said.
I have the right to steal everything, from everyone, to buy heroin.
I am so sorrry, but I don’t hate me anymore, because I have written my resentments out here, and they all reflect back at me, well clearly.
Clearly, clearly, look at me, I am spinning I am free, I hurt myself, by killing my friend in only metaphoric sense, but really I kill my heart, my soul, making me an aching hole.
I would divorce myself if I could. I would divorce myself if I could, I am the screaming liar, with soul on fire, who burned fires, set by me worshipping my own death.
Clearly can’t get me, I get my self. I drink bottle HIGH on shelf, I have cut ears of injured elf… it rhymed…
Hahahhahhahahhahhaahhahhahahhahha
no no no no no.
I am the soul keeper of my own, my precious because it rings so so so true.
Ode to Schizophrenia.
I worshiped Rah. I worshiped death. I worshiped anything that would keep me in
inner turmoil.
Churning oil.
Faker faker faker. Liar. I hate myself. I put my life in fires of HELL, metaphoric and very real, because I can burn, I can feel. I
am eye of tainted man, of woman too because I am too.
Never alone, never alone, I am never alone. Always here with me. Always at my own face, screaming, I hate you.
I am the eater of Damien’s soul, I am MISERY. I EAT HIM WHOLE.
Ahhahahaahahhahahhahahahha
You can’t get me, I forgave myself.
I realized, real eyes, resurrected, because of you partially, speaker
I forget often that I can have more than negative effect on the world. I feel the positive effect of others on me, but it has been a long time since I have felt me doing anything that seemed that positive for anyone else. I am very insecure I guess.
I missed interaction with people outside meetings and my family, I am not good at making friends, usually only pushing others away.
I am trying to figure out how others do this, how they exist in a world without the connections made through need. I am only good at aqcuisition of things I needed, that I no longer need, so while I am good at making connections, I am not good at getting beyond the point that people know who I am, and you gave me hope today that I might be able to do that, thank you.
I am so excited about literally what I just wrote up there, two root canals, not that I want them, but that they are root canals, and not two extractions. I thought I was going to have to have two teeth extracted, and I don’t care about how that would look, whatever about that. Change is good..
I am excited because I knew it would hurt and I knew that I am going to deny them giving me pain killers. I told the doctor I was an ex heroin addict to out myself on purpose, so they wouldn’t give them to me.
I am excited that I actually did the right thing about this. That’s all.
I spent an entire meeting, sitting and rocking back and forth, or talking to myself, or laughing out loud, because I am having a hard time not being on my meds, which I have not been on for 10 years… they are an anti-psychotic, which I subsituted with every drug imaginable, and every drink imaginable. I think I am finally feeling what it is like to be a paranoid schizophrenic on nothing, and it is managable, but not very easy. I am not doing horrific at it, which should tell you something about how much better it will be, once I am properly medicated, and back to seeing a therapist, which will happen in a couple days.
To any of you going through the same thing, keep going it gets easier, and I am here for you if you need me.
If I can say anything, it is that if I can do this so can anyone else! I am crazy, and will tell you it is getting way easier for me, and most of the time I am somewhat content. It will get easier for you, whoever you are, too.
Clearly See See Clearly
Apparently, and I knew this, but I did not know how bad it was. My memories have become so disjointed from the reality that is experienced by other people, they are no longer trustworthy enough to be considered anything more than a continuous dream state, and I do not know if this is fixable…. I am assuming that it might get better with time, but I am not sure, and I am not sure I care at this point.
I do not know if I should care, or if it is better to just accept the fact that I am untrustworthy narrator of my own life, and that everything I believe is suspect.
I think I am alright enough with that, it is what it is, and I think it is better for it just to be accepted that way, then to try to fight for dominance with a universe, that I no longer exist in or see eye to eye with.
I wonder, and this is the reason for this post, if there is any validity to my reality at all? I wonder if my reality or the reality of the insane exists alongside the reality of most, and if we just notice different things, because that would be a lot nicer, than to think that my whole conception of the world is fictitious.
I am okay with either one, I guess.. because I have to be.
Oh, well. Life goes on.
My sacrifice, self-sacrifice is a lie, told to me to justify a constant taking, grasping, stealing of joy and mercy or it was, and I am describing what it was not is, as a reflection.
I drive stakes into my arms, a vain act, of pain, undertaken to sacrifice myself to myself to myself for myself. I eat my own soul this way, so that I can say help me I am in pain, and you can see I am, so you help me, and isn’t that insane?
I am stepping back and releazing the harm, that I inflicted making myself my own personal Jesus, driving dirty stakes, forsaking the idea of something I claimed not to believe, but call on every time I fall. I
Was addicted to being hero in everything, when I was simply a heroin addict, jabbing myself with needles, not driving stakes of self-sacrifice into my hands.
I am learning this now, so I can turn this around, and do something else, just don’t know what that is yet.
I throw stones at no one, pelting words into the darkness of night, because no one can hear me right?
Do you know what you do?
Blind rage is a cage of the mind, locking down the heart of a human being into animalistic state, clawing for escape in every direction.
The hands that seek to allow its release, thought to be the hands of the captor, and in madness, the claws of the caged dart back and forth, poking the hands of their releaser, jabbing at their hands, with bones they have to pick with someone else, themselves.
I am begining. Nothing else, just starting over from the begining.
Our dog hid under the table all night, and followed me around, which is strange, seeking protection from me, when I have always viewed myself as the storm people seek protection from
The thunder and lightning, were my grandmother’s favorite thing in the world, she would drop everything she was doing to go and sit and watch storms. I am reminded of how horribly I treated her, when she was dying. She was an addict too, just alcohol instead of heroin, and I was in the begining of heroin use, so I resented her for having an addiction that everyone could openly see, and knew about. She was a large part of why I left, or my resentment of her, and my family’s varied response to her versus me.
I didn’t understand what made up so different, my drug of choice being different only in that it was illegal.
I forgot my heroin use came after her death from cancer or COPD, or some variation of the two. I forgot what my family went through with her, because I didn’t go through the same thing. I only cared about me.
I apologized for this tonight, so I kind of feel better about the whole thing.
Small steps.
I am not quite sure if “normal” people worry as much as I do, or even if other addicts or other mentally ill people do, I worry every second I am awake, but I hate sleep because I am afraid of death, I didn’t know that, and just figured it out writing this. That is a lot of why I am doing this, I wanted to know who I even was. I was so caught up in defending myself against the attacks of my exes, I forgot who I even was, or maybe was never anyone to begin with. I have never been alone for longer than a month, always partners in crime with another drinker/user and always co-dependent on that person vice versa, we always existed in a symbiotic way, fueling eachother’s addiction. The worst was with Rei/Justin. The entire relationship centered around drugs, at least for me, I think they hate me as much as they do because of that, because at one point they really loved me, and the more that I think about it, while I emulated love… I never loved them as much as I loved the person I left to be with them, whose name I won’t say online because she asked me not to.
I am still partially in love with her as well, but she is still using, and I am so done, and she is done with me. She was always able to pay for her habits legally, she has her ways, and didn’t like my less conventional ways, so when she would kick me out I would go get high with Rei, and one day we decided to go to Cali together.
All the music I post on this site is thanks to my ex, the one before Rei. I loved her, stil do so much. She is the most beautiful person I ever met in my whole life, and she doesn’t even know it.
Rei was just as self involved as I am, which was great at first, because it made me feel better, but we were always ego sparing, except she was not willing to walk away at first, I am.
I always was, and it drove her nuts.
I miss California a lot, which is pathetic because what I am saying is I miss my lifestyle in California, I have an adrenaline issue, without something causing adrenaline release , I create problems on purpose to cause adrenaline release, another thing Rei/Justin hated and my other ex loved.
We used to throw glass bottles against our doors at our house, just to have something to clean when we were bored, and wanted to get rid of them before anyone saw them. Oh my god, I miss her.
When I say I miss California what I am really saying is I miss living on the streets and not caring about anything, because I am weak and this is hard.
Even if you don’t believe what I believe, the whole God or god thing, what I will say is this.. for me the reason it helps me is because in the Christian tradition the use of the character or real person Jesus, makes it possible for me to meditate on the idea of someone doing the right thing no matter what when faced with adversity, which is the opposite of what I do, and as much as I say I don’t care, that is the source of all my self-hatred the fact that I know what I should do, and do what I want anyway. That is one of the driving forces behind why I am doing any of this, I got tired of justifying being a bad person. I thought it might be simpler to just do the right thing.
I was always arguing with my higher power about if they only knew they would have done it my way, until it hit me that if I believe what I believe, and I do, then they know what to do because the outcomes have been weighed and the right thing produces the most desirable consequences.
That really bugs me out, and made me have a hissy fit about it, about the lack of the point of everything for decades. I figured that one out at 8. I almost died during nuerosurgery at 8, and grapled with the meaning of life from then onward.
I am tired of myself.
Peace
Damien
If you don’t want it, let me use it?
No.
We had a deal, and you said you would let me use it at least sometimes? Remember that? I save your life, and I get to a person sometimes???
I know, but you’re going to **** up my life.
You’re life is already ****ed up, and no I am not. I am just going to.. look I don’t know what I am going to do… but we had a deal, and don’t be an ***hole. I shouldn’t have to explain to you what I do, as much as you shouldn’t have to explain what you do.
It’s my body.
Wrong. It was your’s and then I saved your life, in exchange for you use of human form.
That’s ****ed up.
You made the deal.
I know and now I regret it.
Well, it’s reversable.
How?
I kill you right here, right now, where you stand.
Seriously???
No.
Fine, that was funny, so take it, but don’t give it back with tickets, and this time don’t leave and leave me in jail to pick up peices.
Drunk in public is not even a serious charge.
I don’t care, waking up in a flooded cell naked, sucks.
I don’t like wet clothes.
Neither do I.
Fine, deal?
Yeah, see you later.
It’s all for you, Damien.
The Omen
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 hand to 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 am sitting on a street corner, watching everyone walk by, making eye contact with people with nice clothes on, for just a second and then looking away, this being a better technique than most people’s “Can you spare any change?”……….
YOU SOUND LIKE AN ***HOLE..
Yeah..
They don’t understand we are just addicts who do not want to screw anyone over, we have to because we are slaves to our addictions, most of us feel bad about it. It perpetuates the addictions of most of us… We use and drink to be able to sleep and think because we are addicts and then we end up, or some of us do anyway, out of the street, having to panhandle, steal, lie, and some of us gain some sort of semblance of pride that comes from being good at it. I am good with words, I liked doing what I did not because I liked being a liar but because I like playing with words.
There are hundreds like me, thousands, who failed and get some sort of semblance of control from panhandling vocally, or writing clever signs, or sitting outside with a sign for 12 hours and making 200 dollars a day.
I am, by the way, an ***hole, but I am trying to change now.
I used to think, this was a command about getting coins, a vessel being something that held coins, this being my alcoholic mind making things up that make no sense. A vessel has never been something that holds coins, instead being a large boat, or a hollow container used to hold liquid.
So of course, me being who I am, thought that it was supposed to hold coins, or booze money, or money for other things that are the same things, because it doesn’t matter, I can be addicted to running and make myself sick running till I feel like I am going to pass out, and tell myself that I am doing a good thing, because it is only running right?
Or the time when I figured out you could experience.. hey.. how bout I not do that? How about I say something positive for a change, instead of being on a failing ship that is falling because I loaded it with fools gold, how about I say something posotive and turn the fate of my ship around, right? Clearly See not will asserted See Clearly right?
Having fun talking to yourself?
Clearly.
Positive self-talk, my style. 😛
I can do it too, I just do it this way.
I am learning that the truth is, I am just so damn arrogant that I thought my way worked, even though clearly it does not, and I have been taught that recently by people who love me, and have way more knowledge of what is true and real than I ever did doing things on my own.
I am learning to change vessels, to get off the failing ship, failing because it ia loaded with spare change meant to buy things I don’t need, and take the advice of friends who love me.
They were telling me the truth the whole time, I just wasn’t listening.
I am not privy to the truth yet, I am too **** arrogant to know anything that even resembles that, but I am working on seeing and if I can do that first maybe I can finally find out what truth even means, because I have had my eyes shut my whole **** life and someone just turned on the freakin’ lights, so I will figure out from here I guess, but at least I know what I am dealing with now, and that I can’t freaking do this alone anymore, because I didn’t realize this alone. It took people I know with flashlights to help show me the way out of the freaking darkness, towards a light in the sky that may illuminate the path away from a failing vessel full of fools gold.
I
British people are great, free wallop meaning alcoholic drinks, but also meaning the same thing that wallop already means which is to strike someone very hard. That is perfect. It perfectly describes me when drinking, violent. It perfectly describes the deviant reaction of my brain to an addictive substance, which also being a slang term for an alcoholic drink.
Best prompt ever. Done. Thank you wordpress.
Now this.
I am talking to a reflection of pain
It is telling me trust me, baby, I will make life risky. I am hearing this, and thinking I am bored, and a game sounds fun so, lets go, and I can’t even imagine wanting this now so, no.
I wake up, hearing a street sweeper, my head rested against the glass door of a convenience store, I have 30 minutes, to get my stuff out of here, before the cops come and tell me it is illegal to sleep outside, and then make me leave, which I was doing anyway, and they make it take longer.
It is extremely hard to roll a sleeping bag up with a police officer asking you why you can’t do it faster, and trying to explain how you are missing the tips of three fingers, while listening to him laugh about how
“Well maybe, you shouldn’t have done drugs then!”
I know that now, didn’t know that then…
This lady comes up and asks me what I am doing, she is making this harder.
She tells me I need to get a job. I am somewhere else in my head thinking about how I wish I was a turtle, so I say,
“Do you know how long turtles live?”
She thinks this is some sort of veiled threat, so now I have ten minutes to get out of here, before the it takes one and a half hours and a ticket to get out of here instead of 20 minutes.
**** me.
