I am the screaming nightcrier, the burner of funeral pyre to desire for

DEATH

MY OWN

MY PRECIOUS

MY DISCARDED

RINGS true doesn’t it?

Answer me

Clearly…. clarity, clarity where for art thou clarity?

DOWN THE DRAIN, because over night you went insane,

JUST TEMPORARILY

IS that so?

I ****ing hope so, I am going to go somewhere soon, so if I write this, you will go away maybe, and I will not have to hear you talking to me in front of other people.

DO YOU REALLY BELIEVE THAT??

Enough to do it.

You are disgusting.

GOTCHA, you are talking to yourself.

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I have OCD, along with the other litany of problems I have already listed here, heh. I got my hair cut, which is awesome because I didn’t have to pay someone in drugs to shave it all off because homeless people can’t cut hair, and I wasn’t so itchy that this would seem like a necessary choice, so yay me for getting my haircut and getting a normal hair cut so I don’t have to shave my head again. That sucked, I think I mentioned the whole mohawk **** thing… but if I didn’t some ***hole shaved my head into a split in half mohawk, and told everyone to look for mohawk ****.

Short sweet, and very fun for mohawk ****. I got a lot of sympathy, and a lot of free items.. and they found out the wrath of mohawk ****. Then mohawk **** needed to leave, because there was a rumor that I had a twin and one of us was a girl and the other was a guy and the only difference was the voice… convenient… till they found out we were both the same person and it was me beating my ass not my twin brother or vice versa… very bad con…

I threw my phone in the river at around the same time because I thought someone tapped it looking for mohawk **** because tricking junkies is a high crime… and people really give a **** about that kind of thing…. or something I thought when I was way too high…

My dad is a really great person, we had a really good time, he was talking to me about his life, making me laugh, and we went to a really good restaurant and I told him I am done with drugs and booze the rest of my life. I also got to make plans with my uncle to see him at Christmas for the first time in ten years, and say I was sorry for being a lying ***hole.

All in all a successful day for mohawk ****, or me with a shorter hair cut that looks nothing like that at all.

Peace

Damien.

I hate myself, I hate my voice, I sound like a **** when I say anything, condescending **** when I say anything, and can’t do anything normal

Like drink water. I just almost choked on an ice cube… ****.

I drink everything like alcohol still…. doing ****ing shots of water with ice in it. Like it is going to work faster if I drink it in five seconds. What the ****????

I do the same thing with everything, must make everything painful, like just take sips of water when you are thirsty dumb ***

I have been courted all my life, to dance with loaded gun or held knife at my Neck, by myself, on a shelf, which of course is what I think because, baby I ****ing stink, I smell booze, in heart and soul, still drunk but dry, sometimes I know.

I reek of anger, creaking madness, rocking back and forth epic sadness, dark reflection, not staring at mirror, but bashing crashing and dying in epic fear.

I am loaded gun, I am dark resistance, I am tragic, insistence, that though I am dry, I am GOD. I am responsible for divining rod, punishing me, I am insistence on trying to be my own

Maker

Breaker

Soul forsaken, breaking me, tragically, beginning to see how epic my failure is.. or simply that I am an addict who needs a higher power.

Facts.

I loved you, any of you who was with me, I thought… but now I don’t know, because it always ends the same

You are insane

THEN GO! I KNOW. I KNOW. I DON’T CARE. I DON’T NEED YOU. NEVER DID NEVER WILL I HAVE MYSELF

All you need is love..

All you need is to shut the **** up.

I need no one, but myself. I need to put the drugs and alcohol on the shelf, that is what I need to do, and I can’t do that with them, I can’t know that I am not going to do this again.

I can’t even be my own friend damn it.

I know, Damien.

I break up with me, every day.

I know, Damien.

I know, Amanda.

I know, me.

I know both of us.

I hate me too.

How the **** am I supposed to like anyone else if I can’t even look in the mirror, I hate everything and everyone because this sucks and it is hard, and you make me nervous because I know everyone is thinking the same damn thing that I think about me

YOU SUCK YOU SUCK YOU SUCK
You suck?

That’s what you think?

That’s what we think. They think. I think.

Do you think this is fun for anyone, who the **** would want to be around this? I don’t even want to and I am this…

Then stop doing it.

Oh.

What makes you most anxious?

I named myself See Clearly because that is not what I do, I do not see clearly at all, because my ego it is tall, or it used to be I mean, because I am a liar, a whiner and a wine-r, or not really because I prefer whiskey, or anything that is risky like heroin or meth or how about crack or death? You know things like those, things you stick in mouth or nose, or suck through glass, because I want to die, and that’s not true, what I really aim to do is..

Get the *** away from all of you, because you make me anxious, because you hate me, or maybe I do.. I don’t know… but I feel it when it you look at me please ****ing go. I am telling you go away, **** it! I hate the idea of panic and judgement, I hate you and everything you meant

To say, but didn’t, I can hear you thinking **** it, or maybe that is me? I don’t know the difference…

I guess… it’s me… what makes me anxious is me…

and addiction and lack of control and framed photos of animals in suits..

His name was Chris which is ironic, because he is a christian, so I think it is a set up somehow, like somehow someone is sending someone to spy on me and naming the characters they send after me in mocking style, because obviously I am that important right? Didn’t realize at the time, how ****ing narcissistic that was, and it is only now, that the paranoia is starting to fade, that there is not some secret plot to take me down specifically, because I am just a lying drug addict alcoholic, and I am not sure why being a serial killer sounded better than that… I have no idea.. it made me feel less powerless… I think.

I am very angry at myself about all this, because looking back at it, I realize how much of *** I was… how even though I thought I was always getting ripped of and deserved so much better, how much better could you expect your life to be when you are con-artist who panhandles for heroin, and basically tries to make people afraid to not give you money. I used to make 200 dollars a day doing this, the key was to look like you are going to rob them for more than they give you freely, and then if you get caught, you are a pretty girl, and you change your voice, and Damien is your ex boyfriend who put you up to it, and he hits you and you just want to get away.

I was such a piece of ****.

Damien

I love ya, hunny, and it shows, or showed, when things were going well, you know? When we were loaded with lots of cash, and didn’t have to worry about you stealing my ****ing stash, but now I am sorry sweetie, gotta go,

Because you know what, sorry, baby, we’re in a rut and as much as I love ya, you ****ing ****! I hate your stupid ugly guts, so take my money sweetie, I don’t need it, hope you like it, hope you keep it for longer than one day, because sorry dear, I am staying away.

I am walking to California, and so my dear, I am going to warn you if you come near me, I can say I will bite your head off, and make you pay, because I have a rare gift don’t you see and sounding like guy I still have these? So now with the power of two in one I am pimp and whore with loaded gun.

I will take out your eye, don’t touch me ****er, and if you say anything I will make sure your luck

Is in the ER ER ER ER

Damien/Amanda

I used to look in the mirror and see myself, and I would look into my own eyes, and swear I could see me winking at me, and then I would black out and become someone else, and wake up doing and saying things I didn’t mean, that were not violent they just didn’t make sense, and I never hurt anyone physically, but just embarrassed myself, and I think that is what this is all about, it is about the fact that I have something wrong with me that makes people look at me different, and it is easier for me if that is because I caused it. I preferred to scare people away, before they ran away because I lash out at people, think things that are not true and am literally always living in a reality that in some way is not real, it was easier to be completely unreal, and violent towards myself and hate others, so I could fund things that took me away from how I feel.

I built my life around drugs after getting my degree, I literally gave up at 21 and was content with getting hammered and then doing coke and uppers and then my ex and I broke up the first one that I lived with, and I ripped him off for 950 dollars and bought heroin.

I lived with this person who I used with for 3 or 4 years, in a glorified trap house, and then moved out because he ripped me off with another person who lived with me on the streets till I started getting ripped off by him and then left and walked from Oregon to Cali.

The stories you will read on here going forward are mostly from Cali. I lived on the streets there for a couple months by myself. It was very interesting.

Damien