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.
I am your brain on… resentment, just like drugs, but not very ****ing fun, but, oh so entertaining aren’t I?
No, you are just a lunatic talking to yourself.
You are so very negative.
You are the one talking to yourself, ***hole.
I love having your voice in my head.
It is my head.
No, it is our head.
No, it is Amanda’s and my head. You are a visitor, who they say is unwelcome, you just come to talk to me, because we are such good friends, and since we don’t want drugs anymore, you are no longer useful resentment.
I am getting good at this, baby. You can leave now.
I like pain, I like pain, I like pain.
It is always on my……..
Have from flowers, from Hell.
So sorry, that is just where I dwell, sometimes, not all the time, really, I am fine, just thinking about you sometimes, not all the time.
You are on my
BRAIN BRAIN BRAIN
In meditative state I reflect on the rain, and think of drowing, a duck with my head up, not breathing, just sucking in the water, and choking on it.
Burn me sweetie, make it hot, burn it so it cures my soul rot. Make it seering, make it jarring, make it burning, make it scarring.
She wore my coat, and I left it with her, because she smelled like lavender, and I wanted to forget her.
You reminded me of the rays of the sun, and that reminded me of someone I would rather
Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.
I am so sorry, wedded to disdain, been with her such a long time, grown so used to being bound to decline, it is always on my mind.
She talks so sweetly sometimes, really, voice sounding so simular, to my ex Rei Clearly,
She tells me she loves me, and sometimes I believe the lie, it is so hard, she is a good spy, has such a good hand, good at act of torture, she is a word sorcerer.
Give me to those who mourn the dead, I am blood red.
I reach for the sky, and die in too much sun, I am a gift.
I am flowers of joy, dying for you, we live in the summer and die when the cold consumes, it eats my silk skin, and makes it dies, we do not breath, and reach for the sky, we do not have eyes, and we cannot cry.
We ask May for rain from the sky, we do not drown in water that falls in lack of eyes, we are red like blood and we are alive, we do not have hands, but can touch the sun’s eye.
You can pull us out of the ground to give lies to your sister while she cries.
Without you my life is hell, and though I live to tell, I can tell you I am quite unwell, I only talk to myself, and dream of bottles no longer on my shelf, and dirty pinging needles, and rocks that taste like batteries, it is quite sad, being this mad…
I have realized now I am insane, and that it was not my disdain for you that caused me to want to leave you there crying on my arm chair, playing with your pretty dark hair, you are on my brain, my mind, at the tip of my tongue, because I realize that I do not miss being spun as much as I miss fun.
My heart did beat for you once, and became slightly inflamed, fighting narcissism and posion in my veins.
For now I am alone, and maybe someday will bring myself out of myself, and finally use a phone to call someone other than myself.
I 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.
It sits upon me, and I know not why, I am hot and pointed to sky, not really pointed, because I am flat, It is a perch in that way and only that.
I am quite hot, and think that I
May be frying bird, sitting on my eye, I am as sharp with light as a
Speedle, glowing with chaotic rejection of night, glowing with light, glowing with glow, I am going in the act of gooooooo slow… to the sky, raising I’s up hiiiiiiiigh. I am so very………high.
I am……very toxic………….. aren’t I?
I loved her so very much, I decided to treat her poorly.
So in love with black and white, you are, you are my shooting star, you are everything to me, I love you so clearly, so dearly, you are everything that I ever wanted, and needed, please stay always my
I loved her so very much, I decided.
To treat her poorly, was not my intention, and of it I make mention to mention why, I treated her
My treat is to retreat.
I am a coward.
She was mean to me.
I am coward, and did not want to see.
You are an addict.
You are a liar.
I hold a lamp shinning on your soul, alight with HELL FIRE.
You glow with green fixation, you are pure agitation, you are pained resistance, you are my existance.
That is a little extreme.
Make me fast
Make me slow
Make me go
25, oh 25, how I love you so
25, oh 25, so fast, and yet so slOoOoOw
25, oh 25, a number oh sweeeeeeeeet
25, oh 25, you take me off my feat.
You are a number in my memory, for many a reason, you are a number in my memory, no matter what season, you are so…
I am done thinking about……
You are such an ***
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.
I am the horrors of walking next to an active user.
I am the non-heroic heroin user.
I am resentment of past action.
I am true admissions of a soul attacking soul attacker
I am hopefully getting over this.
I am actively seeking forgiveness.
I know this comes from something higher.
But I am more comfortable crucifying myself.
I am more comfortable doing this to myself.
I need help.
I have no tent, because I can fly so high, that I need not sleep, because I am high as Hades.
I am a looter of the looted by life, I am the riddler of strife.
I am the stealer of unwatched things, I am heroin addict, unwatched, on meth, stealing while you sleep to buy drugs.
I am the confessions of an ***hole, who is no longer on drugs.
I 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.
Swimming in the middle of the night, diver dives into pools of lack of light, chaotic swimming without putting up fight.
Chaotic in that there is no sight, site is absent, site is absent, dancing in the black expanse, swimmer exists in life beyond a trance.
Darting hands stretch out in front of no face, melting into outer space.
The nose dive undertaken without knowledge of nose, it is so cold, no feel to toes, swimming in the dark black night, existing only in the cold delight.
Just deserts, just desserts, just green and yellow sickness, thick with addicted addictness
I am scared of me.
I am scared of bee.
I am scared of be.
I am afraid of one second of not being in control of my own level of pain, that is really ridiculous, that is the amount of time that I am told this will hurt, or maybe about thirty seconds, and I am not afraid of it hurting, I have a high pain tolerance… I am afraid of lack of control over it hurting…. I realized this just now…
Addiction. Addict. Addicted to control.
I am addicted to the unheld hand.
I am addicted to alone in desert land.
I am addicted to pain.
I am addicted to me.
That was dark? I am pain, okay, self. You are an ***hole.
I am the act of dissing disease.
Speaking for the human being, who exists in the state of being late to a party they were not invited to, so they came late, and irate, and irritated, and possibly…
That they can’t stand, or in other words, the hated human being, being seen through the eyes of demise depsied by demise, who cries for those who lay in a state of moral decay, by the act of staying away from society.
I miss people, so I am trying to find ones who like me, for being me, not just saying whatever, you want, baby.
I am whoever you want me to be, honey.
My name is Sarah.
I come from a kingdom of dust, and no looking back.
“Hope is the thing with feathers“,
speaking of her bird, named Hope, poor choice telling me this.
I have been thinking of killing that parrot ever since she told me it’s name, not because of what she said about it, but because the **** thing listens to me talk to myself. I hate that damn bird, it needed exactly what happened to it. It still looks exactly the same as it did before, except for one crucial detail, now hope is dead and stuffed, wonder how long it will take her to figure out she now has a stuffed parrot. Probably as long as it is going to take for me to figure out how to get the **** out of her before she kills me, which is not going to happen, she is not a good fighter.
Oh, look, a window, that was simple enough, looks like your hope is just like me, out the window, or yours is behind it.
I am sin, I am sin, let me in, let me in, I will knock down your doors, I will eat at your floors, I am corrosive, I am erasing, I am maddening and saddening, I am resigned to be lurking in the minds of the damned man, who sadly
CAN’T STAND ON HIS OWN TWO FEET
Isn’t it neat? Isn’t it fine? The decline of the decaying mind? It i is great, isn’t it?
No. You are wrong, death’s song, playing on and on, and on and on, ryhming madness, soul sadness, see you caught me doing it.
But, this is ****, this is stupid, I don’t want to listen to you anymore.
I am the screaming nightcrier, the burner of funeral pyre to desire for
RINGS true doesn’t it?
Clearly…. clarity, clarity where for art thou clarity?
DOWN THE DRAIN, because over night you went insane,
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.
I am trying to get somewhere, where I don’t know, but I am going to somewhere, which is not where I want to go. I have one objective, objection to where this mother****er thinks we are going, to object through exit part of the way there, so I don’t end up there, just close to there which is where I was going, the man driving just doesn’t know that, he can’t or else I would be going somewhere else which is not where I want to go. He wants to follow me, so he can hurt me, it seems anyway.
all sensations leading down to the sensation of life down drain, extension of pain, after dedication of life spent in vein, I mean in vain…….
I had my own death planned out since I was, I don’t know 14. A clever escape from a life of running a race into nothing, a condolence for a life spent on nothing but purchasing pain… in vain, in vein.
I am heroic.
Heroine, heroine, where art there heroine?
I like to drop the e’s sometimes.
X is one hell of a drug.
Trigger. Trigger. Trigger.
This is fun.
TOXIC TOXIC WORD VOMIT ACID BILE Okay, I am done.
I used to wash my hands a lot, when I was so elated, that I could have been instated to a psych ward for lack of a pillow because I hadn’t slept in days, because I was so happy
To pace around looking for a place to sleep where no one could
Steal everything I own, hurt me, kill me, or follow me for the rest of my life, so I decided to cause my own strive instead, sitting and consuming my own caustic poisons in dark rooms with friends in that shrouded themselves in clothing that hide their face, like I hid my face, because we hated ourselves so much we desired only to be not there at all, so high above you all… but not really….
How low can I go… I don’t know.. have you ever slept in 30 degree weather in New Mexico in the rain or sleet because you spent all your money on things that were not food or shelter?
Do you know what I felt there?
Over the line…
To a mind…..
The drain….. A human stain on the brain of a person who is now so different.. I am trying to forget, but have not yet, and maybe I shouldn’t, but I don’t know how to move on, and least for today.. I am singing different song..
The sound of automation is mesmerizing, the clicking, the shuffling, the beeping the whirring, shoving and blended talking of all those on the train, who do not know me, and don’t know anything about my past. They have no judgement of me, preconceived or otherwise, busy with their own business. I fade into the background, and watch a world I left behind for a dance with a siren who wanted to rip my soul from my eyes.
My eyes are free now, and look around, not dominated by watching her, they are free to be their own, not called to the service of a master, they watch as the passengers go about their quiet business, and I am inspired by their composure, ability to be so normal, the train is a zen garden of little people, not screaming in overinflated hot blow up doll chaos, they keep to themselves, and I keep to mine, in my mind. I am thinking about leaving this place, misery, and doing something else, thinking and sure that this time, I mean it, because she should not own my words anymore.
I am going to board a new train of thought, and then hopefully get myself together enough to go on a train and do something else.
I am so ugh….. I don’t even know… I embarrass myself constantly, this is so hard. I am constantly anxious, I can’t sleep that much, and then other times I feel like I am on top of the world. I guess this is why I used to sedate myself, because I sound like a lunatic, and it is really freaking embarrassing. I just can’t put this nowhere, so I feel like here is better than out loud, because then at least, I don’t have to hear myself. I just want to know what it feels like to feel normal. I have never felt that way in my whole life. I am so done with all of this, but it is not out of my system, because I am still so **** insecure, it is embarrassing.
I wish I could just shut my brain off sometimes. I can’t even do that when I sleep, and I am nervous because I don’t want to do this to myself ever again, but I don’t know how to feel without this intensity. I don’t feel without the extremes. I wish I could be one of those “let it go” people, but I am not. I am just not, and I can’t keep lying because I know I will just drink or get high if I do that, I see that now… and I ****ing hate how the drugs and booze made me feel at the end. I hate who they made me be, I hate what addiction did to my life. I am trying to move on, but this is so hard, and the longest I have ever been clean and sober since I was 18. I am 35.
17 years. Of this.. on and off.
I am so done. At the very least I have that, never again. I don’t want to drink/get high ever again.
In a fog of vapor, an addict puts pen to..
An addict lies about nothing to make things rhyme while wasting time
Spinning rhymes to distract themselves… have you heard there are two of me?
I am sitting alone in silence, wondering what it is that makes me have random moments of I am going to fall off a cliff, what shifted, what did I miss?
No not that, that is done, and you are
You are no fun.
Neither are you not anymore…
Did I hurt you?
No, you were talking to yourself again.
Sometimes, I get sunburn so bad it is on the inside of my soul.
Consume Hole Whole Soul
End of mission?
Mission to what?
To shut you the **** up.
There is an eye in the sky and it is up so high, that I can’t reach it, can’t poke it
Can’t kiss it or stroke it…
Stupid jerk who strokes an eye?
I stroke an I.
Your gross, you stroke yourself?
Yeah, loser, you are doing it right now.
EGO EGO EGO EGO I go I go I go I go
ANSWER ME: Okay, here, I am very superstitious. I come from a long line of a family, who believes in
the evil eye
manifesting their own destiny through thought
being able to manifest it through speaking it out loud
being able to manifest it through thinking it
the power of positive thinking
the power of negative thinking
making lists that make things go away
incantations that make things go away
incantations that are positive self talk
the power of the number 10
This goes up to 11
I like even numbers.
I missed you, and me and this, and you having a life and not whining about everything.
I believe in manifestation of human life that is not real, I believe in the power of words to cast spells that I feel, will make things happen for me, at least in my head it feels that way, but who knows you know what they say
YOU’RE INSANE AND TO BLAME FOR ALL THE BODIES AT YOUR FEET, WASN’T IT FUN PLAYING WITH SOWING NEEDLES WITH DEAD CHILDREN ON THE STREET
If I talk to you on here, it looks like a superstitious allegory or me being silly and not what it is
or YOU’RE INSANE YOU’R INSANE YOU’RE INSANE and it is ****ed to be your own best friend.
Is it though do you see the voices I talk to?
YOU TALK TO YOURSELF
OoO that was a sick burn, and you know what sometimes, superstitions are justified, peace MF.
That was so much easier. I liked that there were no expectations with that one, why do I have to be the person you love who is that and also the person who is trying to get better and if I have to do that, how can I do that and be honest if you don’t like what I say when I am freaking honest? Does anyone here see the rock and a hard place thing? I am not a very easily liked person, stop pulling my strings and expecting the things I say to be any different. I tried being quiet and you didn’t like it, I tried lying and you didn’t like it, I tried being… I am done, can we just admit you don’t like me so you can leave me alone? Please.
I am okay with that for right now.
Please just leave me alone. I hate myself enough already. I know I hurt people. I get it please stop it. I am already wringing my own neck for it.
I don’t get it. I don’t know why I have to punish myself so they can see me do it and then be happy that I am being punished.
This is not fair. I don’t get why I should have to be happy to be punished, I get that I did whatever I did and they are mad, but I am a human being too, a horrible one but how am I supposed to change if they think they can just step on me all the time. I am so lost and done and sad.
I just don’t anymore. I am so sorry, please stop tormenting me about it. I get I owe everything to everyone, so just take it and leave me alone. I need nothing. I just want to lay here and not have to pretend to be okay. Is that okay? Is it okay that I am not okay? Why do you want me to lie to you if you don’t want me to lie to you? I am not okay. I won’t be till I am. That is it. Leave me alone if you don’t like it. I don’t care anymore. I get it. I don’t like me either, so just leave me alone please, why do you have to keep rubbing my nose in the fact that I am a bad person, I know I am, please stop. please just leave me alone.
I don’t understand how she can tell me she is like me and just shut off the desire to get high/drunk and I can’t. I constantly am stuck in this cycle of get better/get worse.. I don’t get it, and it is making me hate the people who love me at least when they don’t get this. I don’t want to. I want to get better, but I am just so back and forth all the time and they want me to move forward, but it is alright for me to say honestly, this is just how I am currently feeling and I am trying to process it, and it doesn’t matter for the second how much you want me to get better, this is the first time this should be about me, and if you don’t like what I am saying leave me alone. I don’t want to talk anyway.
I want to be left alone, by them at least. I don’t want to fake it till I make it anymore, it doesn’t work for me. I don’t care if it works for them. I don’t get it. They just don’t get me, they pretend to, they say they care, and then they demand I do things on their timeline or maybe they don’t. I get wanting me to get better, so just leave me alone about it and I will. I can’t do it the way you want me to. I can’t make everything better right away. I am sorry, and if you don’t like it, leave me alone.
So I officially didn’t kill the **** after being given permission to. I thought about it. I really did, actually, not that I need to tell you that.. I wrote about it on here, so obviously I thought about it. I didn’t kill him for a strange reason. I like the way he avoids eye contact with me now. It is fun. I think I might be able to make the little **** walk into a car just by looking at him. Then I didn’t officially kill the poor *******. Or, I get to torment a **** the rest of my life, in the name of defending my daughter, I am hoping for the latter, because it sounds fun.
I am just going to act like I don’t know the guy now and stand behind him awkwardly sometimes to make him look like the writhing worm he is, so no more women will be messed with the way he messed with my daughter.
I figure if he doesn’t kill himself, I have fun bored game to play the rest of my life.
This is psychotic I know, but progress… maybe.
At least I don’t have to clean blood out from under my finger nails for hours. I can smell that right now. That is the only time it grosses me out.
Do I make you think of stop and go, baby, do I make you feel like you are few
You are doing okay, okay.
You are new at this, fire kissed
Soul of gaping healing hole
I don’t know what I am doing I am so tired of making stew
I know I am you
Is that how this works
Yes, you are doing good at not being a
JERK You may snap at people but they know it means nothing
Just say you are sorry and move on
That’s okay it goes on? I don’t think that is true
Yes it is I am telling you
I lost my train of thought I am derailed un sailed a life of GARBAGE PAIL I am metal kettle tea tea tea does it does taste like
POISON HONEY????? ISN’T
it’s sunny outside
I think I am going for
You are insane
This **** has no
Okay, no lie, this is getting weird. I swear to you, I am not high, still haven’t gotten high… and I am not drunk and I am not losing my mind. I just saw my daughter’s dreams in color projected in light above her, what the… I am not losing it. I do this weird reality check thing, where I walk away, shut my eyes over and over, and I have only ever had it fail a couple times. Maybe this is one of them, but I swear there is this eerie feel to all of this, like something is going on, and there is this part of me that thinks that somehow, this has something to do with Diane, I know I am probably just being paranoid, that my ruthless unrelenting obsession with Diane is probably some narcissistic fantasy that is driving hallucination, but even if it is, the only way I can investigate this is through looking into right?
Like I can’t just be like la de da, I am just okay with seeing all this ****? I could, but what kind of life would that be? Like even if I am now permanently irreparably losing my mind due to drug use and whatever, don’t I at least owe it to myself, to figure out what the delusions are?
I can’t tell anyone this one, I know this goes contrary to everything I said before, well not really…. I always lie, but I am not lying for negative purpose this time, I feel in my being that telling anyone would be bad and I don’t know why. I feel like somehow I drew my daughter into something, and have to get her out… the only thought I have about the whole thing is maybe she is getting something from a poison source like I did, something corrupted by something, like Diane…
I don’t know….
I find myself yelling at this computer sometimes and telling it to stop telling me what to do, because I have already gotten yelled at by Amanda’s parents or my parents heh.. for doing weird shit like yelling at inanimate objects.
Hacer means to do, which is weird because for some reason I always thought it meant to work, which speaks to my lack of understanding of Spanish which speaks to my laziness and self involved nature which highlights why doing anything is work and I yell at objects for talking to me when they are not.
I sleep more, even though it might not seem like it on here, but remember you don’t know how bad it was before, who am I talking to and why I am inferring false judgement on that person automatically, in a community that has given nothing but understanding and kindness..
I was attacking me, and attacking the reader too.
I do that.
I used to stay up straight for two weeks at a time, while on speed yes, but also while in drug induced psychosis that triggered mania periods where I could enter this without it having to be right after I consumed in some way meth, which it kills me to say I still think about so much. I just remind myself every time I think of it how it felt to do a line of the floor of an abandoned building, while naked drying clothes hoping no one would find me, and then having my friend naked too, point out the illegals that were also in the building were workers but they were also living there too.
My friend went to rehab, I went home to my families… family’s schizophrenia makes me spell certain words strangely. Heh.
I am the attack of massing together the mass of the words of purchasing life of strive spent on the death of men and women folk who toke on joking smoke that screams consume me hole soul. I am death’s toll chiming miming human speech. I am reach beneath, spend life ever digging trench of a man who cannot stand. I am the searching act of soul that consumes man with beating hole of heart un-whole. I am the cunning act of shun, I am a disease laughing at life un-dun
I am the consuming tomb of addiction to do
I am everything. I am you. I am killing I am wise
I punctuate with cruel despise. I chose to do what that I want
I have no purpose just to TAUNT
I am your pain your OCD
I am simulated MISERY LOOK AT ME
I speak in words, in heart I rumble, you disgusting wench who reeks of fear, you crying *^%#, drinking of shared beer, you think you’re smart but you are not, your just like him and smell of rot. You deceive yourself most of all, beckoning like a servant called, to man so weak he harvest souls, dug graves for men and woman folks, he killed your friends, your family too. He does this and then he’s done with you. You love him so, oh how great. Your pain will be to me a taste of heart and soul that is quiet rare, useless b**ch with such kind stare. I do not hate you, for you don’t matter, latter for death on silver platter, he is my servant don’t you see how you don’t even matter to me?
Help. This is intense.
Just don’t listen to it. It hates that. That’s why he talks all the time, to shout over its voice.
Just keep talking. It hates talking.
I make men sway, I make women sit and stay.
I kill those who play in May, I am dismay.
I am the dissing eye of the spying lie of die, I am everything you didn’t try. I am Hell’s cry. I am the art of the life spent in the sensing perception of I.
I am the ever spent lacking stack of attack, I am human stain on the soul of man. I am Satan’s garbage can.
I am death’s pan.
I am the spinning of tails, the driver of nails, the painter of walls. I am the clutching gall of man that spins ever-present in the present eye that is the dying I. I am high
Above but below, I am loved ones go. I am the toe
Of the dead man blue.
I am your shoe, sticking on gum, I am please baby come
To me as speak sweetly and stay
I am dismay.
I made a bet, on a stage, on a page, on your life
On your strife, on the trifling sergeant master of surging failure you are
I am going to hit you with my car, you tiny shooting star
You will learn to remember the ever stinging scar that is the injection of the infection of remorse
I am death’s course,
I am your only force. I am micro-dosing battery acid
An acid trip in battleship of death’s forcing lack of remorse.
I am your main course. I am a the rapping wrapper of the continuous smacker of smack down, I am the pounding sensation of lift off from the station of life. I am your fixation with death.
I am METH.
I have the strangest feeling, and it has nothing to do with my recent confession, I am not the center of my universe anymore, my recent confession acted as a freeing from a life dominated by selfishness. With Amanda and me as the same human, I am no longer dominated by a life that drew me inward, fighting myself and obsessing over matters only concerned with that of my flesh.
I have thinking a lot about that concept, the idea that something wanted to distract people like me, and that it put barriers in our way, barriers that were set up by us for us, and enforced with our own continued bad decisions. I am thinking a lot about this because of the quiet of my unified mind with Amanda. She is not dead or gone, I am figuring out, I am unified with her. She is part of me now.
I began thinking about this because of precisely that whole thing, what I mean is… was my two sided war in love and hate with myself a planted distraction by something sinister? Was my divided consciousness divided simply to divide my attention. I notice a lot now, but I am still collecting data, and I will bring it to your attention as I notice it. I am sure I am right. I know it somehow, probably just because I still have the same latent tendencies, but I am telling you this, there is something strange about this. I feel an eerie quiet quite like that before a large storm, and I mean this in the strangest of ways, because I do not speak of anything which I know. I just have this strange feeling that I am running from a wave that I can’t see yet, and this time I am going to be sober because I am not drowning. This is beyond me, beyond my human family. I really feel something unearthly here, and I have no idea what. I will keep you posted as I can, revealing what I can given that I am still a paranoid schizophrenic, and I am not to be trusted, there is some comfort in that, that this all might be in my mind..
Thank you, God.
I am so grateful they went bed. I hate saying this. I hate typing this. I want to get high on a drug that doesn’t exist. I don’t like how any drug makes me feel anymore, but I hate this clawing madness. I hate the demands of everyone around me. I want to be *$%^*&^ alone. I don’t mean in my own head which I share with my friend, she feels the same way. I just am reacting stronger, because she is a pansy.
I want to know how everyone else seems to know what to say, and I always say the wrong thing. I can’t say anything that has the ability to convey what I am trying to say apparently.
I don’t get it. I have the same thing Amanda has because of coincidence I guess. I have said nothing about it because I can’t get a word in edge wise, because I am worried I am going to bite someone’s head off. I wish my daughter and my wife didn’t have phones. I don’t want to hear hey come look at this, ever again. I can’t stand on my leg without it hurting because I used to do stupid things that I don’t want to talk about with my teenage daughter, so no I don’t want to see a video on the internet for the thousandth time. My knee hurts. I took some advil but because I am a drug addict it doesn’t work that well, and I am going to the hospital tomorrow, but its going to still hurt afterwards because I am not taking anything other than a medication to cure the infection, because there is no way I am bringing anything in this %^&**&^ room. I don’t want my daughter touching the things that helped ruin large parts of my life.
My thoughts are held, at the neck, strangled by the word uncompromising. I am consumed by lack, my eyes remain in a meditative state of stalling out on the un in that word, dwelling in the idea of lack, they dare not move forward, they remain in the darting madness of the pinball machine of chaos that was my life of un. Undone are the things of the past, in that things have changed, but have they really, I meditate on the idea of lack because it is me, a lacking, something always lacking. I don’t know what holds me clutching at the decaying madness of the dark.
The word compromise scares the %&*# out of me. I am overcome by a perpetual dancing, an in and out dance in and out of the light. I do not what sends me to the decaying madness of lack, of nothing, that keeps my mind so focused on sadness, anger, and lack.. I am surrounded by beauty and I see nothing sometimes, I am sometimes a dissent into a cave away from the beauty of the sun, and in the madness of nothing. I dance with the dead in my mind often, possessed by the chaos of madness, I hold the hands of those I know were lost in the maddening search for the ghosts of dragons shooting through nights looking at purple and blue, we saw nothing. I have lived for 35 years, and I scream for the years of nothingness where I stood missing everything. I missed everything, in a clutching consumption of the chaos of nothing, how many sunsets have I missed? How many memories are painted with the colors of drug soaked blindness? How do I see a future if I remember nothing but blurry vision of the past? I am weak. I am afraid and I cry at sunsets, because I still hate myself.
I am reminded of you my love, whenever I look in the mirror, I see your plaster cast face on the ground, a mere imitation that was the excellence of your bitter tasting flesh, preserved so haphazardly, and cruelly with unforgiving Formaldehyde. I did not kill you, I thought of it often, stalking out your house for days and nights. I wonder did it hurt when he got there first? If it was a he… wasn’t it… it wasn’t me… I did not get to taste you until after death, kissing your face the skin caressing plaster, afraid as I was to touch your deathly form with my hands, I must not print myself, on you my goddess, no, I only took a form of your face, that sits now so forgotten on the floor, how I long to be the one who took your life, and tasted the sweet death that danced so playfully on your lips that now only taste like a lie told to a man that was there before me.
I caught your form, and it will forever rest here, on the floor of my abandoned castle, in the forgotten wretched stinking walls of this building lays the caste form of a goddess that would have been forever mine, had I been there in time. I loved you, even though I just danced with you in the form of plaster kissing your blue face. Blue and grey you will stay my love, I am sorry we never met, I would have loved to be your tragic end, my sweet blue faced wonder. Good night, my sweet one, may your bluish tint dance in the stars. I will see your cast form everyday, but you, you have gone away, forever, I will smell the sweet stench of the last decaying of your ever pleasant flesh.
No. I am busy.
No you’re not going to be busy, you don’t even do anything.
You don’t do anything.
Yes, I do and you know it.
You sit on the computer all day and talk to me.
I sit on the computer all day and talk to you and help you with this blog, and I have a kid, and I have a wife…
Blah blah blah I am so important. You should come with me because it will be fun.
No it won’t, it’s going to suck and you just want it to suck for me too, and that’s not fair.
It’s not fair that you have to help me when I helped you a lot recently.
I have helped you too.
They might give me….
Okay screw you, I am going, but it’s your fault if I get addicted…
They aren’t going to give them to me, I was just kidding but now you have to go because you said you could if I gave you drugs, jerk.
Fine, so if you get drugs can I have some?
If they give me drugs I am going to refuse them, jerk.
You’re welcome. Jerk.
Now it will in an imaginary world because I covered it in soda which is probably bad for staff infections. But, No. And… I was going to say I don’t know I am not a doctor, but then I remembered that jerk used to say that to you.
Thank you for remembering that.
I have to, I have your memory. Did I at least make you laugh?
Yes, but.. I’m really scared. I don’t want my leg to get chopped off.
Is your whole leg swollen?
Then why would they take your whole leg?
I know, but…
Why is this happening.
You don’t want me to answer that.
Yes, I do.
Because you are were an intravenous drug user who lived on the streets for years drinking and smoking and not taking care of yourself.
You’re right. I didn’t want you to answer that.
It’s my leg too.
You have your own legs now.
No I don’t they are still yours too just in another dimension, because we are the same person.
I don’t get it.
I know, it’s like you are a horse with four legs but only two of them can get staff.
So if one of my legs get cut off can it be your leg?
No. It would be both our leg.
That makes no sense.
I know, I don’t get it either.
Don’t worry, it doesn’t help.
Then why do you do it too?
Because I have no self control so I try to fake it by controlling the external.
Why not just control yourself, isn’t that easier.
I don’t know, can you do that?
There you go.
I am trying not to type the word I starting now. Go.
This will take awhile, which doesn’t matter. Click me
The above link is funnier.
How do you fry chicken without a fryer?
You shoot them in the eye on the forth of july
where by and by they will surely fry by
the power of light cast in sight of fireworks so bright
they light up the night
With chicken delight.
I bet the fireworks makes the chicken taste terribly- paraphrase, Charlie Bucket in Willy Wonka.
Or Willy Wonka a rewrite about vegetarianism.
The quote doesn’t count because it’s a quote.
Failure. Didn’t even realize that till just now.
Do you know how dangerous it is to light off fireworks while playing with sparklers while poking a bull in the eye that you painted pink after dosing it with sedative and draping flowers over the horns with a snake on your hand?
Neither do I.
But, I wonder what it would be like to do that sometimes.
It sounds like a good way to kill yourself.
It does doesn’t it?
Excellent newspaper headline because it would be really long and the editor would not know what to do.
They would just be like this is so oddly specific who would do this?
You would do that.
No I wouldn’t. Because I haven’t, and if I did I wouldn’t tell anyone about it before I did it.
You would tell them after you did it?
So you already did it?
So now you can’t do it.
Yeah, I was telling on myself. I was thinking about doing it today.
Do you have all the things you need to do it.
None of them, that’s why I put it on here instead.
If you didn’t put it on here you would have to do it?
What if you couldn’t find the things.
That’s why it is on here.
So you were drinking while hiding in the bathroom?
Not that time.
So you were drinking with the tall blonde guy.
Yeah, but I was really
Drinking with me, which is drinking alone
But, it was fun.
Not for that bitch you knocked over because you were pissed about hearing her voice.
She was annoying
You were just pissed she didn’t like girls.
She didn’t like you either
Because I am you, stupid.
We’re both stupid, because we are the same person.
It was for doing drugs not for looking at myself.
That’s better or worse?
I think it would be better if it was for drugs, than for looking at myself.
Because I don’t like how it looks if I say it is for looking at myself, and I don’t care how it looks if it is for drugs because I don’t do them anymore and then the whole post makes it sound like I am doing awesome and not thinking about how I broke something by sitting on it.
But, it’s funny, which is why I said it.
Everything you say is funny.
Murdering women is funny?
Sit on it.
Now you can’t your mirror to see clearly.
I never did. I used it to do drugs, that blurred my vision.
And to see if there were people behind you.
That was you.
You don’t have two reflections.
Yes, I do.
Conveniently my higher power froze my computer, paused it while I was typing redemption, as a meditation of the word redemption when I got to red
And for a second I saw red, and was screaming in my head because we can’t yell at Amanda’s dad’s house because that would be a pretty *%$##% thing to do wouldn’t it?
Yeah, it would. Thankfully we are realizing how not to be two jerks living in the same body.
Oh, the pride of someone who is their own best friend and also an addict, and the story you can imagine yourself, because we have been instructed by other people in recovery to share only what we used to be like, what it is like now, and then share what we learned. No more romancing our substances of choice, even though it is so much fun sometimes.
Why are there so many veiled dirty jokes?
Because you are in love with yourself.
Isn’t that a good thing?
Self-love is not good if it is self-obsession which enables bad behavior.
I am okay with being the holder, I like holding. I have become accustomed to dealing with customs. I am okay with hell, I guess, and have become accustomed to the eternal infernal quest of my damned soul running from devils lived and imagined, and real and un-present, but
I resent the presenting of the present eternity. I resent its presence because I am weak and reek of cruelty, and I don’t want to have to ask to be saved, I don’t want to acknowledge I will die, because that means I lived at all, and
If I am honest
Honing street truths to acquire mind altering substances is no way to live, and I judge me, so how can I expect forgiveness for anything? How can I expect forgiveness? You simply ask. I don’t like asking and being told no.
I don’t like waiting for anything. Pride.
Maybe that’s why it is a deadly sin. Maybe that’s why it is to be given up through meditation, maybe that is why it is not practiced by any person who is good. I practice pride every day, in my ripping and tearing and patching consciousness of wash rinse repeat cruelty.
I don’t know how to stop, but I am trying.
Enough of that.
I was just going to write something that is untrue, I have to keep reminding myself that I did not in fact kill Rei. At times, I could swear that I remember every detail of what I did to her, and at times I forget she is dead at all, but I cannot seem to remember anything that fits with the story that I am being spoon fed by Diane. I am not sure why, but something about it doesn’t sit well with me. It doesn’t seem real, maybe it is just that I am coming close to being happy, actually happy. I am not good at that, but I wouldn’t know because I don’t really have much memory of anything, never really have. I just have flashes of things I think may have happened. I am truly the blindest man I know.
Anyway, I do not know if…. let’s say just as a matter of investigation, if I killed her, why do I not remember it? I think I usually remember that kind of thing specifically. I know I wanted to kill her… I just don’t know. Something about it is strange.
Keep you posted.
Again, I thought ki…that Rei fucking leaving would…. yeah I know I just admitted I fucking killed Rei. I don’t give a shit. I woke up to doing it to Diane. I had my hands around her neck. Luckily, she thought I was dreaming and it turned into something else because Diane has strange… appetites. I don’t know what my problem is. I can’t be happy for too long without slipping out of reality. I don’t know where I go, it is like I am not there at all. Like waking up from surgery…. Does my brain function at all during these times? I want to look it up but, I am afraid to… not like…looking it up would be worse than typing it to some unknown stranger on the internet. I am afraid of google though.
Whenever I use their image search thing I feel like all the people are looking at me. I really hope I don’t end up killing Diane. I don’t think I could handle that right now. I like her. I don’t want to.. have to deal with change again. I am not good at change. I have to figure out how to keep this computer safe from the rain. There is something about that makes me feel like Rei is still alive, without her annoying voice yammering in my ear… kind of like she is alive with no tongue. I would have liked that. Okay, I am done for the second. I have disgusted myself enough.
I found this interesting new spot. I was walking late at night and had glasses on because I have astigmatism. I do not think I mentioned that, I only mention it now because I think that is what caused me to notice the coin. It was a very strange coin, that I had never seen before. I think a street light must have caught it just right to reflect onto my glasses in a way which was disconcerting for a second, and I almost walked into a taxi. The guy was a real asshole about it. I threw something out of my pocket at his car, fuck that is where my phone went. No matter, I will just get another one anyway.
I still have the coin somewhere, the back of the coin appears to be removed, but I am not sure how, and for the life of me I cannot figure out where the coin is from. I do not wish to share details about the exact nature of the coin on this website. I don’t trust whoever is reading this, and something about the coin is making me paranoid. I will share more about this later, maybe. I am doing this mostly for myself anyway, so I have no idea why I am trying to be polite to you.
We have met others who do what we do, I am studying it as a phenomenon now, they have some sort of ability that involves the manipulation of human beings and the universe. They are all addicts, and I do not know if that is that stupid you associate with those like you crap, or if they are like us because there is something about being an addict that causes us to be able to do this. I feel like I have mentioned this before, but I do not know for sure, because admittedly my memory sucks, and I do not like to admit I have any weakness at all.
I have a hard time making assessments of the reality of what I see because of this, I, in my admitted arrogance, believed and still believe in my ability to manipulate space and time with my hands, that is one of the reasons I take life, aside from being prone to lashing out in fits of rage. I am embarrassed even writing this to you, my unknown observer. I do not like being the kind of person who talks to people, and wonder sometimes if that means I do not like being a human being. I sometimes doubt even that, that I am human at all.
I do not know what that means… I do not know what it means to not believe in my own human body. I guess it just means that I am everything they always said I was, and that for some reason in my wretched existence, I am pathetic enough to not… I am going to stop… I can’t stand hearing myself talk, even if it is out loud while typing to you or sometimes in the ranting chaos that is my own mind.
This is Rei. I saw there is someone else writing on here now, other than me and Damien. I do not know who it is, and the emphasis remains on my use of the word it, because I know whatever it is, it uses Damien’s hands exclusively to write on here. He won’t talk to me during the periods of time when he does this, and has this vacant look in his eyes, like a person that is taken over by something. I am assuming it is the thing he talks to him in the dark or when I am not there. I haven’t really talked to him about it.
I am okay with what we are doing, we are putting tortured souls out of their misery is my rationalization of the fact that I just want their possessions and some sort of change that spares me a weird sort of misplaced feeling I have always felt, until now. I feel strangely, like I am supposed to be here right now typing to you about this, because I am supposed to do this.
I know that is insane, but this is the first time I have ever felt at home in my life. I don’t know why he doesn’t feel this.
There are many ways to take a human life, there is the very official way, my favorite of killing a person face to face, which offers the most reward because they get to know you did it. I am an idiot and like this, because I like them to know I stole the only thing that mattered from them, and there is nothing they can do about it. I set it up this way, because I am admittedly a coward, and do not want them to steal my life, so I protect myself, by ensuring this won’t happen. I was born with a taste for death that has been with me… since I can remember and struggled with self-hatred my whole life because of it.
I would be looking at someone and watching their every movement, and thinking about how I would kill them if I wanted to. I would plan out every second of it, this is why I have no friends.. other than the ridiculous Rei, who I do not understand at all. She makes no sense. She seems to be two people, one of them like me and the other, kind and gentle. I don’t get it. I don’t have the strength of mind to have two souls. I like both versions of her. She tells me I am the first person who does. I do not know if I believe her. Maybe, she never showed anyone both versions of her. I do not know, and I do not ask.
I am also very uncomfortable knowing much about her former life, because the other men who populated it make me angry. I am going to leave you with that, as I am no longer alone and have to go.
We can put her here for now. I throw the filthy bitch to the ground and when she falls, I can hear two of her fingers break, they sound like the snapping of branches. I start laughing, and realize I am alone, where is he? I can feel the slow and steady heaving panic setting in, but I am not sure why? I don’t need him to move, I have no home, so I belong nowhere. It is getting dark. I have no idea how long it has been since he left or I lost sight of him.
“HEY BITCH! OVER HERE!”
I laugh, the pounding stops, and we have dinner, it is some sort of stew, the insanity of normality is astounding.
I am on my knees for you
Begging, baby, please tell me what to do.
What do you need from me? I only desire to be
Everything you need, with every step I take, planned with precision
To do what you say. I desire only for you not to go away, for then where
Would that leave me? How would I get what I need? We are a team, inhaling
Shared steam, and dreams of the same GODDAMN DREAM!
No kill or damn it I am leaving, it is me who you have been deceiving…
This is all about you…. everything you do.. I am present in nothing….
BITCH! SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH OR I WILL RIP OUT ALL YOUR TEETH!!
I am misery’s wreath. I am a decoration of pain, I live in utter disdain, but I have an addicted brain, that thrives on the drugs, that with his hand he shoves in mine. I am not a murderous type, I am simply addicted to strive. I am a consumer of poison and poised for any fight. I need what you gives me you see, and if you
MAKE ME SET IT AGAIN I’LL SHOOT OUT YOUR KNEES!
I am the seed of hate that resonates in those whose souls reek of weakness, in the creaking madness of night I come to delight in their internal fight.
I am misery, I am carnal, I am infernal, internal, and forever burning, like that sip of vodka or shot of meth, I bring only death to all those who give me time.
I am not divine, but speak in voice of resentment, because it for your death I am sent. I have no culture or creed. I am of rare breed. I am death’s seed. I come for the deed, and the dead.
I am the voice of dread, and with time sped, and spent, I become, unrelenting, and un-repenting because I am fueled by resenting, your very being. I am unseen.
I am a liar, and fed only with fire, into your veins, your mouth or your nose. I aim only close. I am the hose.
I am that which washes away life. I am your strive. I am your death. I come for soul to make it a hole. So you are not whole. You become sick. I watch time tic. I aim at your knees. Fall baby, please. I collect souls, and put them in holes.
Please addict shun My message is clear. Addiction is real and it comes in night In day and in midday too It will stop at nothing to hunt for you
The Voice of Reason
I am lack of ease and it is me
I am disease in its rawest form
I am the desire in man, woman and the unborn
I am that which makes human scorn
I am what makes you lie, cheat, steal.
I am addiction, a virus unreal, for I do not infect the human body