I no longer know what the goal of the site is, I write horror fiction, and love letters to myself.
This site is a tool to facilitate the act of seeing clearly, written by hands that used to hurt myself.
Explanation: I am Damien, I speak to my split personality Amanda. I am two people in love with each other, and I am okay with that now.
I have paranoid schizophrenia, narcissistic personality disorder, bipolar II-manic/depressive- rapid cycling, depression, anxiety, hydrocepholus, narcissistic personality disorder suffering from alcoholism, drug addiction, alcoholic. with OCD and PTSD- was addicted to heroin, meth, crack, alcohol, cocaine, prescription pills.
I am drug addict/alcoholic/dual diagnosis/ex-homeless person.
Through dark horror fiction I rake the muck of the lives of street addicts.
Or in plain English this is an epic poem/novel about addiction told about low bottom addicts in horror style.
I was on a mission once, and now but not the same one. My mission before, was a stained one, of the undun spun heart of a dead girl, unfirled, unwhirled, spinning, in nothingness. I saved her, but she has moved on, and into a shared rent of a human body.
We are me, I am me, I am her, she is me, we are they. They is me. Amanda is dead, and I am her, and she is not me. I am sorry, but I don’t hate myself anymore, she wanted to go, she didn’t want this, and I do, she gave it to me. She was done, spun, spinning, spun, into a winding bind of gone for all time. She has retired, her soul was on fire, with remorse, so I took over, and now she is at peace, and at least, she can be a passenger now, I don’t know what this means.
I am no mission now, I just live as me, and her, but she, resentment is silent.
You are silent when I listen, you caw when I do not, I am listening to you my friend, outside my window where you are, though I cannot see you.
Talking to you is better than talking to them, them is a word re-arranged. Them is a word re-arranged.
I did not stain the rug, I did not I swear, I put it down, before the paint was dropped.
I am very careful don’t you see? How could you place the blame on me? I did not stain the rug, and it can be seen in this picture of a rug, that is a different rug, but looks like the rug I did not stain.
Someone with a name I will not mention stained the rug, and it was not me.
Along time ago in a place far away, I cleaned motel rooms and
Om. Sounds like meditation..
I should have cleaned the rooms in a calm manner.
Yeah, maybe then you wouldn’t have lost your job.
I lost my job because I came to work high ever day.
Did that cause you to behave calmly?
Does anyone behave calmly on drugs?
My point exactly.
I am you.
I know them is a word re-arranged, and it is word, that made me realize that it is no longer a good idea for stay up for two weeks at time.
What about them?
Who a word re-arranged?
The people? Which people? Everyone?
I am sorry to the every ones.
There are not multiple every ones.
I thought it sounded cool.
You sound like a tool.
I am a tool.
I mean you are being used, like everyone is being used at times, by the hands of the universe to help other people.
I know, but everyone is used this way.
Tool is loot backwards.
You are such a jerk.
I am not sure if I am, or if something is just changing. I have two competing sensations
1. I am losing my mind, permanently
2. My mind is finally fixing itself
I am not sure which one is accurate.
I am not sure of anything right now.
I have begun to feel comfortable actually, which makes me think I am in the process of awaiting some strange horrific malady. I will tell you this, I do not ****ing like this, and it is very ****ing uncomfortable.
Although, I think my family is doing better, I am using my powers of mental insight for good finally. I have started doing weird things to help my family get along better. I wrote a note to one of them that solved a dispute that they had with each other, and now they are getting along better. That is all I will say on this website about that, because I no longer have the gift of anonymity. I gave one of them this website address as a way for one of them to find out more about me..I had been gone for 7 years using and drinking on the streets, and in various hotel rooms, other situations.
I have maintained the anonymity of my real identity not just because I am a liar. I am a liar, but I also thoroughly ruined my life to the point where the anonymity is necessary because there are certain people who are very angry with me who I do not want to have contact with while I am trying to recover from addiction and try to make some sort of effort to be a decent human being. I have faced the very real ramifications of a life spent back and forth on the streets and in houses funded by unsavory methods. I desire the anonymity because there are certain friends I have that are very unsavory characters, who want to kick my *** for lack of a better word. I faced all the situations in this story minus actually having to hurt anyone. I wrote about that as a way to get justice in a fictional way, and get out repressed rage when what really happened was I had to turn the other cheek and feel like a coward because I walked away instead of standing up for myself.
The quiet ramifications of a life of pushing everyone away, or I am surrounded by silence because I pushed everyone away.
I hate it because it reminds me of what a failure I am, I have lived most of my life, lying to myself. I am unhappy because I am alone, and have spent my life drug/alcohol seeking. I do not have any friends, my friends I had are all dead or don’t talk to me anymore, so I sit alone all day and write on here and I hate it and love it at the same time. I love that I am no longer surrounded by the negativity I was surrounding me before, which I don’t want, but it also reminds me what I have missed because of my choices. I chose to dedicate my entire life to drugs and alcohol a magnum opus of failure. I am alone all the time forced to reflect on all the bad choices I have made.
I lived as a homeless person, squatter, bum, panhandler, conartist and petty criminal for the last 17 years. I was on a constant mission to fuel only my addiction while obtaining a master’s degree in public policy which I have used as a way to skirt the law. I have not committed any serious crimes. I have panhandled, lied, cheated, gambled, and conned my way through life. That is the truth, the full truth and no lies.
I love you too, honey. You are an amazing girl, my lack of ability to interact with you has nothing to do with you, I have never had anyone who needed me in my entire life, I was selfish to not even think about the possibility of you existing, there were periods of time when Rei, your mother and I, I am sorry, I am new at this whole thing….
There were periods we did not speak, and even though you came out perfectly, I know that during this period of time your mother was using and was not of clear mind. I knew nothing of your existence before I met you. I still know very little about it. I think your mother knows more because she doesn’t think I can handle it. I am so happy you exist, you are the light of my life and I wouldn’t be able to see past my own hands on this keyboard if it weren’t for the existence of you. You made me see what I was doing, how I was destroying your mother, and have taught me so much more about forgiveness than I have ever thought possible. I love you, sweetie. I am terrible at showing it. I am avoidant because I am having a hard time.
This has nothing to do with you. I am hoping I can get your mother to show you this because I don’t want to ask you to read something on here. I am extremely ashamed of the hard life we gave you because of our horrible choices. I am working my hardest to progressively fix all the havoc, I am just very bad at this.
I will do anything I can to make it up to you every day of my life going forward. I do not want to fail you ever again in the way we did before or any other way.
I love you hunny.
Please forgive me.
I think I am in the process of finally clearing a long term MRSA infection from my body that cost me three finger tips. Most notably half of my thumb on my right hand, which was a ***** because that one was my fault entirely. I refused to go to the hospital because I was enjoying getting high.. I have been an idiot most of my life. I thought I could clear it on my own by using bleach and peroxide, which I used to literally seer a hole into my scalp through which you could see my skull, no lie. I am insane, in my defense… I was very high for all of this, and had no idea that I was literally digging a hole in my head with a pair of pliers.
I am just happy I am not insane today, the further I get away from meth and heroin/crack/acid/booze/painkillers/cocaine the better. I am tired of spending hours trying to kill myself slowly.
You can’t tell I did that, looking at me, because obviously, that matters narcissistic ***.
I don’t know why I felt I needed to share this.
I also grabbed a blanket, because if I am going to be a pile of disgusting, weeping chaos, fuck looking like I don’t get cold. I am not touching what I said yesterday. I don’t remember what it was, but remember enough that I have made the decision to not look at the archived post. I don’t care that I don’t remember…. now I remember… fuck.
I really have to pee, but I am afraid of mirrors, and everyone is asleep and there is a mirror in the bathroom. I don’t want to piss my pants, but don’t want to look in the mirror, I am afraid of demonic possession alright… because that would be a problem, obviously… it might make me into someone who kills people they know and doesn’t remember things….oh right…
Well… hold, on. Oh, right you can’t see me.
Back and I remembered to wash my hands, and they are not bleeding because I only did it once, oh small steps. Literally only about 2. My bathroom is very close to my computer, I don’t know why you need to know that.
So you can hopefully kill me in the middle of the night and I don’t have to live in shame and guilt, oh yeah the whole people in the next room thing.
Okay, that is all you need to know.
I have been weird all day, that is why I have been writing as Damien, he is who I am when I feel this way. I have always had a hard time with the idea of sex, I have had a lot of sex, for profit, and was intoxicated for every single sexual encounter, I always thought I was intoxicated because I was uncomfortable with having sex at all, but I was never uncomfortable with women, and right now as I am typing this the idea of never having to be with a man again in that way is the most liberating thing I have ever felt in my life.
I am extremely Catholic, and very stereotypical about it, and have always thought that caused me to be weird about sex entirely. Or I thought I was trans because of the whole Damien thing. I don’t think I am, I have been looking into the idea of two-spirited, that makes sense to me.
I think I am finally releasing that I drank and used drugs to be able to be okay with how I felt about me being in a relationship with a man, sexually.
Dude, I am so relieved. I feel like I had an anvil taken off my chest.
Maybe I am actually, Damien and Amanda was always a facade.